The List

Just a heads up everyone. Vanilla Garlic is going to go to only being updated every Tuesday. Between work, my grad thesis, and all the extra food writing and recipe developing work I have taken on I feel that the posts here have lost some of their soul and character. Rather than bamming out a bunch of decent posts a few times a week I want to provide you with great ones that will give you more to read and, hopefully, more to laugh and reflect on.

Still, every so often there might be a special non-Tuesday post should something truly awesome occur. Sign up on the blog feed, google reader, twitter, or the Vanilla Garlic Facebook fan page to keep updated (all buttons are located at the top right of the page). Thanks, everyone, for your support!

-This is a slow day.-

Within the pastry department the to-do list is our lord and master. (I and the other assistants sometimes allow the chefs to think they are, but we all know what holds the real power here.) Each day the list, often 20+ items long, dictates what has to be prepped, frozen, baked, ordered, or signed for.

On my first day, the list noted that we had to prepare cookies for the cookie plate, develop a new recipe for those Concord grapes that should be rolling in (assuming the order was made), bake up flatbread for dinner service, whip up components for the brulée; OH! and by the way, there’s a last minute, thirty-person special event going on today so we’ll need to bam out some individual cheesecakes for that as well.

Just another day.

The list is formed by any number of things: the occupancy of the adjoining Citizen Hotel, the number of reservations on the book that night, what fruits need to be used up in the fridge, what produce is in season, what desserts on the menu are selling or not selling (the mission fig-añejo is epic, so why aren’t the servers pushing it harder?), and so on.

This list is varied and fickle, often changing without warning and we're constantly adding, removing and bumping things in order to meet the sweet tooth demands of staff and customers. This may sound like a complaint, but it’s not. The list’s shape-shifting tendencies are what keep the days so interesting and varied.

We wouldn’t want pastry to become predictable now, would we?

Vanilla Garlic Gets Experience

-Elaine and I plating dessert for a special event lunch.-

If you've been following the updates on my Facebook or Twitter then you're probably aware of what the above picture is about. I'm taking five weeks away form work to do an internship at Grange Restaurant, one of the premier restaurants in Sacramento. I'll be working in the pastry department under the guidance of pastry chef, Elaine Baker.

-The to-do list on my first day. We almost got it all done. (They did have to take some time to show me around after all.)-

Doing this is something that's been on my to-do list for a long time. For the past few years I've been getting along just fine teaching myself how to do pastry. However, that only goes so far and I've been wanting to get some real training and experience under a talented instructor. I didn't want to go to cooking school as I heard that the experience wasn't quite worth it, and, to be honest, I'm still wrapping up my MA. I'm all burnt out school-wise. Instead, I wanted to learn on the job. Finally, I get the chance.

I'll be blogging about my experience here and writing a few other pieces about it over at Sacramento Magazine's blog. Expect a few recipes from the kitchen to pop up in various places (I'll let you know where once they're up) as I find time to sit down and compose them.

If you happen to be in the area come by for lunch or dinner. If you want to try and catch me to say hello make a reservation for Saturday night as I'll be working the line. Hope to see you there!

-Fromage blanc on tomato jam with honey roasted tomatoes and bacon phyllo. Served alongside is some lemon basil sorbet served on crumbled corn cake. The little black things are some candied olives (seriously tasty things, those) that were used in a dessert the night before.-

Flavors of Peru

-Peruvian food at it's best involves deep frying.-

I know as much about Peruvian food as I do about the Large Haldron Collider, which is to say I know the general premise of it. Peruvian food involves smashing potatoes, the LHC smashes protons. They're similar in that they both demand smashing of things. That limited amount of knowledge on both subjects has served me well enough and there has been little need or desire to pursue either any further.

However, when my co-worker, Estrella, invited me to a Peruvian food festival I decided that this was a golden opportunity to learn about a foreign cuisine I knew little about. Looking through the flyer she gave me it listed all sorts of tasty sounding goodies which my limited Spanish was unable to translate. I saw the words arroz verde (green rice) and masa morro (red corn) but that didn't tell me much.

-Sweet potato doughnuts. Smother these with maple syrup and you're good to go.-

I knew through my thesis research was that Peruvian food's primary food source is potatoes. I'm not saying Russets or Yukons, but any number of varieties and all sizes and colors such as bright green Emerald potatoes, oblong pink and purple potatoes, and tiny, red potatoes the color of a matchhead. Other key ingredients are apples, red corn, rice, and just as famous as the potatoes, Guinea pigs. It's a strange mountain ritual using the familiar and unfamiliar in creative ways to make dishes that are both strange and comforting.

Take, for example, the sweet potato doughnuts. Each culture has a delicious fried dough recipe that they hold dear. Here a sweet potato dough was slowly poured out into boiling dough like a churro or funnel cake. They were served with a bit of maple syrup, a modern, new world ingredient for Peruvian communities in America; one they've happily adopted.

-Peruvian food is awesome.-

Right across from the sweet smell of doughnuts the hot sizzle of vinegar and oil in cast metal pans echoed outside. Here bits of skirt steak were tossed with onions and tomatoes in a blazing hot pan. A few quick turns in a pepper vinaigrette and the mix was laid atop of fries and rice with a small dollop of neon green chili sauce. The flavor was epic, sour and savory it burst with flavor while the chili provided a subtle heat that enhanced with pungency of the flash-cooked vinaigrette.

-Alfajores. A shortbread cookie sandwich filled with dulce de leche.-

Inside, away from the smoke and oil, other dishes bubbled away. Lamb layered with cilantro and culantro. Next to that piles of empanadas sat steaming; you could hear their crispy skins crunching underneath the weight of each other. The next table over had piles of roast Guinea Pig slathered in chili sauce. Potato dumplings in a molten aioli so spicy you were compelled to drink the morro fresca, a drink of boiled red corn and apples that's sweetened and strained, in order to cool your fiery tongue.

Potato dishes of every kind were readily available from smashed to mashed, boiled to fried, in desserts to drink and each was new and different.

-A sort of Peruvian stir-fry. Seasoned with vinegar and black pepper. Crazy tasty.-

Desserts were there in plenty, another red corn and apple pudding mixed with cinnamon was the most popular treat, but alfajores, bread and rice puddings, and even small Napoleon like desserts were available.

It was as educational as it was tasty. I, sadly, can't recall the names of most of these dishes. I wasn't writing it down and the Peruvian names to these dishes were for the most part so foreign to me that I won't even try to recreate them for you out of fear that I may simply butcher them so badly that I'll accidentally utter some strange and forgotten Lovecraftian curse. Furthermore it was one of those situation where I was so focused on the flavors and the eating that the details are all lost to me in the ether of deliciousness.

Regardless, I came away from the festival with this: Peruvian food is too unknown and under-appreciated. If you find the opportunity to go to a Peruvian restaurant, do so. You'll find a riveting new cuisine that's just bound to surprise you.

-Red corn and apple pudding. Incredibly rich. The red corn isn't so much a flavor, but rather makes the pudding thick and gives it the deep burgundy color.-

P.S. Vanilla Garlic has a new fan page on Facebook. Be sure to become a fan to show your Vanilla Garlic support and get updates. Thanks! ~Garrett

Walk That Walk

-Mom, dad, and my fancy, $10,000 velvet hood.-

Yes, it's good to walk that walk you walk so well.

After three years of going to school at night, spending my weekends cramming and studying, pouring over research, being mummified in yellow and red tape, tutoring, teaching, and writing thousands of pages in papers. Years of trying to cram it into my work life, blogging life, cooking life, writing career. 40+ hours a week of mind numbing study. I am finally approaching graduation.

Due to the fire I won't have my thesis finished and turned in until late August. Still, the major course work is done and a finished draft -so far a 100+ page document examining the exclusionary rhetoric of the Slow Food movement - is now in the hands of the noble, kind, sagacious, forgiving hands of my thesis advisers. Since all my friends were walking and I had the course work done and yes, I was supposed to have the thesis done originally by now (again, fire), I went and walked.

The degree is so close to being in my hands I can almost grab hold. By the end of summer I'll be able to update my facebook status and resume to read, MA graduate in English Composition from California State University, Sacramento. I'm looking forward to buying a neat little frame for the diploma.

My family came up to celebrate with me, which was wonderful as they live in Southern California and I so rarely get to see them except during Christmas. At first I was a little blase about the whole ordeal. Another walk. I did it before and this was more for my family than anything. However, once the robe was on with my fancy new velvet Master's hood I became a little excited. By the time they called my name and handed me my show-diploma (real ones get mailed) I was beaming, unable to even think straight. Holy crap. I was done. (Mostly.)

The pomp and circumstance was pompous and circumstantial, but beyond fun nonetheless. Afterwards, we all went to OneSpeed pizza, my usual restaurant hangout in Sac where the manager and my friend, Michael, had a bottle of Champagne waiting for us to toast. The whole day was exhausting and wonderful. All I could think was, "Done."

Now I realize that the end really is in sight. I almost have my Master's. What are my plans now once it's all done? To begin, no, I do not have plans to go back for a PhD. anytime soon. I would rather saw my fingers off with a rusty steak knife. At some point I plan to look for work teaching community college, or teaching ESL classes, or even perhaps working at a private school. Though before any of that I think I'll take some time outside of the classroom to do a bit of writing and explore some areas of interest. I want to pursue a few dreams and fancies before I nail myself down anywhere.

It's all very up in the air as, for the first time in years, I suddenly have time on my hands. I'm a little lost as to what to do with it all. Re-establishing my social life and having many dirty martinis and sidecars are at the top of my list. Probably a lot more cooking and blogging too.

Thank God.

Blogiversary: Four Years Later

-Born May 24, 2006.-

Happy Birthday, Vanilla Garlic.

I owe you so much. You have brought me friends, buddies, family, acquaintances, work, income, love, a career, passion, talent, persistence, joy, education, frustration, excitement, surprise, memories, travel, experience, direction, sadness, panic, wonder, burns, cuts, greenery, aches, pains, excitement, cupcakes, sun, wine, goats, roosters, elderberries, farming, kumquats, candy making, rhubarb, long days cooking, long nights writing, reading, connection, networking, confidence, sake, wine, beer, vacations, overnighters, dinners, lunches, breakfasts, brunches, snacks, butchery, cheesemongering, skills, talks with friends at midnight, coworkers, publishers, editors, insight, thought process, critique, tons of garlic, tons of vanilla, charity, volunteering, harassment, students, solicitation, pick-up lines, research, idiots, hunger, drive, intrigue, frosting, chocolate, cookbooks, photography, teaching, plenty of cheese, theft by cat, dates, foraging, jamming, stir-fry, drinks at five in the morning, and hope.

Dear blog, you gave me my life back when it was broken. You are one of my greatest accomplishments. Thank you for the most amazing four years of my life. Here is to many, many more.

-Garrett

Kindness of Strangers (and Friends)

-The first step in rebuilding a kitchen.-

When the character Blanche DuBois said, "I have always depended on the kindness of strangers," I thought she was plum crazy. Or at least the product of another era where people kept their front doors unlocked and welcomed weary travelers over for sandwiches and a tall, perspiring glass of refreshing sweet tea.

For the most part strangers leave me addeled; they cut you off in the road, walk slowly in front of you at the market, spit, swindle, and generally are a wholly unpleasant bunch.

Stranger danger is an appropriate phrase because so often in life we find it to be true. We warn children of strangers telling them, "They'll take you away!" to inflict the right amount of fear. We walk back to our cars from the bar eyes searching for strangers, and fingers wrapped tightly around car keys or a can of mace ready to go for the eyes.

Yet, since the fire I have been proven utterly and totally wrong. I've been rocked at the total outpouring of sympathy and compassion from strangers and, particularly, from you readers.

I cannot express how much it has meant to read your comments and e-mails. I've learned so much about all of you; heard tales of your own fires, earthquakes, and other disasters. Many of you shared how to best deal with complications such as insurance policies, or how to simply begin putting life back together as it once was.

Your words expressed joy at how such events can be a blessing in disguise. More than a few of you have noted that there is a certain ecstasy in the unbridled, somewhat gregarious, and at times obscene amount of shopping you're encouraged to do afterwards to replace things (I think I dropped a few G's in one day replacing all my crappy old furniture that was destroyed with new, shiny furniture).

I was amazed at how many people, total strangers, offered to send me books, spices, pots and pans to help replace what was lost and it brought me to tears and made me realize just how many truly, amazing, generous people are out there.

The other night I was out at Onespeed, a little place in Sacramento known for good pizza (to be honest, it had the best pizza I've ever eaten in the U.S.). A guy who worked there came up and said hello to me and wanted to express his sympathies for the fire and all that had happened. My mind flew into a panic at who this person could be to know my personal life. I couldn't recall his name or face. I didn't know this guy. I was a bit freaked out. Who is he? How does he know my life!?

Because I put it on a blog. And apparently he's a reader. And then he comped BF and me beer while we waited for our table. I was moved by this small gesture (and a little tipsy as I was on an empty stomach at the time) as it meant so much after a day of painting and plumbing. Duder, you rock my socks.

Of course, it isn't just strangers. Fellow bloggers have been willing to help me rebuild my kitchen.

-Will do!-

When I lost all my cookbooks to water damage a few years ago Kalyn immediately sent me a copy of The Joy of Cooking. After the fire she raided her spice cabinet and sent me a veritable boon of spices. She says she got them as trials or samples; I think she raided a Turkish caravan on the Silk Road and left no survivors. How else does she explain sending me over twenty full jars of spices? Hungarian and smoked paprika. Garam Masala. Curry powder. Rosemary. Even marjoram, a spice I have never used and could use some advice on. Kalyn is the definition of kindess and, possibly, a spice bandit.

The ever poignant Ruhlman, a friend I was lucky enough to spend a lot of time drinking hanging out with in Mexico, sent me an extra scale. One that had seen the tests and trials of his landmark cookbook, Ratio. I have a piece of culinary history in my kitchen now.

And, of course, I have to thank my best bud Elise Bauer. She, whom I called at 2 in the morning, crying as I watched my roof literally go down among flames and the rasping roar of firemen's chainsaws. Who gave me, my cats, and my roommate a place to stay. When we came in reeking of smoke and trailing ash and mud into her door she simply smiled and gave us made beds and a place to shower. Who put us up for a month and gave us free reign of her home. Elise, I don't know how to ever repay you.

Too many others have all pitched in to help, and you know who you are. Thank you.

So in all this I have learned to never underestimate the kindness of strangers - strangers no longer - and the kindness of friends.

A Fresh Start

-Happy to no longer be living in a cold garage. Also, they want to know where dinner is.-

Back from Mexico and now it's crazy time to put the new place together. We just signed the lease and I am waiting for my insurance to get a check to me so I can replace my, well, everything.

Here's a quick snapshot of my kitchen. You'll immediately notice that it's not on fire.

Now the crazy ride of re-acquiring food, utensils, appliances, spices, alcohol, oils, plates, pans, pots, tupperware, and so on begins.

...Oh sweet lord, can I just go back to Mexico?

On the plus, side we now have a garden space. Our first initiate, or my roommate's as my hands are that of the Reaper when it comes to plants, is a humble little blueberry bush who will soon be planted when the weather lets up. Next will come some rosemary, mint, and - most awesomely - a dwarf yuzu tree and a dwarf makrud lime tree.

-Hopefully, these little flowers will become blueberries. Since they aren't under my watch I have hope.-

Wish me luck in rebuilding. Here is to the beginning of an even better home and the start to a hopefully promising decade.

Zihuatanejo Market - A Short Tour

-Fish freshly caught and ready to be sold. They just scream "Eat me!" (Or, most likely, "Holy crap, I'm not in the water anymore!")-

Club Med, Ixtapa is a place of all-inclusive isolated luxury. The outside world simply doesn't exist here where even the most work obsessed can leave their wallet, phone and watch in their room. Released from the grip of news or internet you become perfectly comfortable in being cut off.

Yet once outside the gates and after a thirty minute drive you're overwhelmed by the cacophony of sound, and the color of the buildings and signs is dizzying. You're swept up into the everyday hustle of the crowd, waves of people crashing down and carrying you through the currents of the market alleys. Just a short walk away you're lulled into a blissful stupor of the marina where pelicans lazily waddle past you in hopes of a dropped yellowtail snapper.

-"You have fish for me?"-

Our tour of the markets started at a dozy beachside fish market where fishermen laid out their catches on woven hemp and coconut mats. Stooped over a checkerboard, yellow and white bottle caps cleverly reutilized as pieces, they studied the game with the same quiet analysis they applied to locating schools of fish and hand sewing their broken nets.

The piles of freshly caught fish glistened and each face popped with a look of surprise from their last little fish breaths. Red Snappers with their wide bodies and sharp little teeth grimaced mincingly, while smaller fish that looked like overgrown sardines that our guide called "silversides" were piled high in long rows and were a popular fish for the locals due to their rich, dark meat; a quality in fish that most foreigners find too strange after years of flaky white bass and pink salmon.

-The fish docks of Zihuatanejo, where the sand sparkles from the glassy shimmer of fish scales.-

We soon moved through to the market, a maze of corridors lined with strange and familiar produce, long strings of firey red and bright green chorizo of all kinds, and flanks of meat that were set out to dry. Everywhere the smell of freshly cut offal, nose burning chilies, the salty smell of fish, and sulfury onions strong enough to make you weep assaulted the senses.

Diane became the de facto culinary leader in our little group. She would buy up any inviting meat or bread then before you could react shove it into your hand with the command to, "Try this!" She'd then photograph your smiling reaction as you sudenly discovered food you had never before encountered, capturing you and that perfect taco de lengua con chili verde forever.

-Mincing block at a taco stand. Be sure to watch your fingers.-

We trailed through the covered, crowded aisles tasting and smelling, each of us electrified and overstimulated. At one stall a savory pork and potato stew bubbled in a clay pot. The woman stiring it would then take a small loaf of crusty bread and rip it open then spoon in the stew, pinching the bread shut. The result was a hot, filling sandwich that trickled down your arm and dripped onto your feet. A somewhat contained mess that encouraged you to lick and slurp every warm morsel and crumb off every part of you.

Next was a hot sample of chorizo negro, black chorizo, dark from the use of chipotle chilies smoked until the color of charcoal, a flavor so rich and powerful from the smoke you coughed incessantly. When you breathed back in your lungs and nose filled with pungent smoke and heat, waking your entire body up.

-Tiny berries that are easier to eat than they are to pronounce.-

Fresh arrauanites, berries that looked like green blueberries but tasted like guava and apples dotted the stalls as a snack and palette cleanser. Star fruit that had the taste of Granny Smiths charmed your curiosity. Freshly brewed hot chocolate stirred brusquely with cinnamon was readily available. Each food called you like some sweet and savory siren encouraging you to crash onto the rocks and enjoy them forever.

Finding someone to hack open a fresh coconut was easy. After they poured the milk out in a cup, the inside was deftly sliced away and bagged with rhythmic movements so clean and hypnotic one might normally associate such precision to that of a violinist. Next to them sat bags of sliced green mango sprinkled with sea salt and chili flakes which highlighted the teeth clenching, delightfully sour taste of the fruit.

-Do not get between a group of food bloggers descending upon a plate of mole. We're like piranhas devouring a cow.-

"Everyone come here! Try this!" becokoned Diane once more as she shoved us all into a small booth where soon plates of steaming hot chicken covered in pitch brown mole were served up. The mole was dark and fragrant with chocolate, the rugged punch of cumin and garlic belied a teasing heat that made the chicken somehow glow when you ate it. It was the definition of a perfect food - one you happily drown in and that you realize will set the bar for all similar food the for the rest of your life. The flavor left you radiant in a way no new religion, massage, or hours of sex and yoga could ever do.

-Sweet, delicious, red hot, lip numbing death in a bowl.-

To the side was a bowl of chopped dried chilies, tossed with garlic and oil their fiery color attracted the eyes like a roaring campfire with all the same heat. The taste was intense and my lips and tongue tingled and burned. I was molten and drugged, covered with sweat and in a delirium where pain and pleasure blended into one. I began to dip fresh tortillas into the less spicy mole and then used it to slather up Mexican rice and black beans to help alleviate moments of the joyfully searing oil.

-Beef tacos with onions, cilantro, and lime. Served, of course, with beer.-

Within an hour we were full to bursting, all of us sweating more from the stomach searing spices than the wilting humidity. Still, we were all eager to make last minute purchases of more coconut and green mango to help sooth the pin-prickly sparks of spice that lingered.

-This woman had this fish that was roughly the size of a 10 year old, and easily double the weight, broken down in about 15 minutes.-

The food of the market had unwound us all. We gazed listlessly through the city, walking the rest of the city in a haze marked by bright trinkets and textiles, worsened by many educational tequila tastings and heady musks of Cuban cigars.

As much as I tried to take notes of everything in the most assiduous manner possible I couldn't. Zihuatenejo doesn't do high strung or attentive. It's a town that encourages you to unfurl and engage. You have to simply repose, relax, and let the food unwind you.

-Fresh coconut milk and flesh being prepared. Perfect for fighting off the heat of the food and the weather.-

Attempting Normalcy

To begin I figured I would try to take you through what the old apartment looks like and guide anyone curious through what happened with the fire and how.

-This is the bathroom which, as you can see, was totally engulfed. In here you can see the bathrooms of the other units in the four-plex. Note the lack of walls or ceiling. When I opened the bathroom door the night of the fire this was all aflame.-

-This is looking through the non-wall to the other apartment. As you can see, you and the person in the neighboring unit can now take tandem baths. No more lonely nights for you!-

-The landing upstairs. As you can see there is no ceiling. Just tarp. Very leaky tarp. The ceiling is scrapped in the patio outside. You can't see it here, but the floor is covered in debris and ash. These stairs were already a super steep death trap now they're wet and crowded too.-

-My kitchen. It's totally flooded due to the copper water pipes melting. The cabinets on the far wall look okay but inside everything is melted or exploded. That hole leads to the other apartment where the fire started in their kitchen due to a stove (due to it being faulty or old or just due to someone cooking inappropriately, I have no idea.)-

-Looking through that hole in the previous picture you can see the starting point of the fire. The stove is gone, taken away for investigation I guess. The fire started here, traveled up the vent into the attic, and then spread back down into all the walls.-

So as of now I am currently still residing with Elise. Still meeting with adjusters. Still waiting to hear back from apartments (stupid holiday weekend delay). So on and so on.

Right now I'm doing my best to keep my mind preoccupied. It's actually not that hard because when you encounter something in your life that's all encompassing like a death or natural disaster I think your mind tends to avoid mental and emotional conflict. Contrary to what your therapist might say avoidance and transference are comforting tools.

I've been cooking to keep myself busy. Elise and I made jam the other day, and while it wasn't wholly successful it seemed to bring me back to a place of life before the fire which is welcome. This and copious amount of video games and sleep consume this drawn out weekend in which I can't get anything done due to everything being closed.

Almost everything that is. I did take the cats to the vet. I wanted them checked out for smoke inhalation and they needed their shots. Right now they live in a cold garage which I'm depressed about as I wish I could treat them better. Had the cats not woken me up the night of the fire I might not be writing this. My vet in in Davis, a good half hour away from where I'm staying but it's a veterinarian I trust.

-This bread is the embodiment of all that is right with the world. Also, notice the lack of the bread being burned down due to a faulty oven in the unit next door. Always a plus.-

Afterwards, I quickly swung by the Farmer's Market for a few things for dinner. Comfort foods. The Davis Village Bakery makes a delightful garlic and Parmesan bread that is, quite frankly, one of my favorite foods on earth. Pungent, sweet, and attached to many fond memories it is a food that I happily stuff myself with until sick.

-Purple Haze carrots. While earthy and sweet, I'm a bit bummed that they don't give you a buzz as I could use it. Stupid lying pothead scientists.-

Another plus of this particular market is the appearance of interesting produce. Being so close to UC Davis, a major agricultural and biotech university, all kinds of new produce are being developed. The seeds and given to local farmers and then the shoppers get to purchase and eat them. I picked up a new variety of carrot called Purple Haze (only in Davis, well, maybe Chico or Berkeley) and am told it tastes like a cross between a carrot and a beet.

I wish I could type something a little more engaging or clever. Right now I'm sort of tapped out of reality. I'm in Borders again, using their Wi-Fi to check my email and other such things. I'm just trying to attain some semblance of normalcy.

Smells Like S'mores

When a four-plex built in 1960 burns down it smells like s'mores. Sort of.

As I watched the roof of my apartment burn down with my neighbors it was one of the random thought that sparked in my head. The smell of burning asbestos (which, until now, I didn't know I had) and other, 50 year old, outdated building materials smelled familiar. It was hard to see the flames, my eyes were raw and sore, partly from tears but mostly from smoke. Yet as I watched the fire devour the roof it just uttered out the thought, "It smells like s'mores."

I was told later from one of the firemen that some of the old materials actually had some of the same sugars in their chemical compounds that marshmallows do (there's a pleasant thought). So when a marshmallow catches fire over the smoke of a wood campfire that scorching, charcoal, sweet smell is quite similar to the odor of natural destruction and chaos ravaging your life.

-----

There were actually two fires that night. The first one was around 9 p.m. I was working on my thesis and BF was getting killed again playing Uncharted 2 on the new Playstation 3. Suddenly smoke poured in through the vent above the stove and the room immediately filled with a choking grey haze. People outside began yelling, pounding on doors, and screaming one word: fire.

As we gathered up the most important things - and it is surprisingly easy to figure out what those are when you have minutes to get the fuck out of a burning building; cats, computer, valuable document box - I could feel the smoke in my lungs. It burned and tasted like the chemicals used to sanitize a hospital, you could tell from the way it swirled and grabbed at your eyes and tear ducts that it was toxic.

After the fire department put everything out they deemed it was safe to go in. We had no power or gas, and the kitchen had flooded due to the copper pipes in the wall melting, but we were safe and, honestly, I felt more comfortable keeping my things from potential opportunistic vandals and thieves who might prey on an unihabited building safe by staying there.

BF and I picked up some water and flashlights, came back, and went to bed.

At 2 a.m. I woke up to the cats meowing and the now familiar toxic smell.

"Oh my God, is the fire going again?" There was a fog in the bedroom and I walked to the bathroom where there had been a tiny bit of fire damage from before. Between the lack of sleep, my general haze from waking up and the physical haze I was walking through I forgot all the fire preparedness lessons I learned in grade school. I didn't crawl on my hands and I didn't check the doorknob to the bathroom.

Describing fire as an animal may be cliche', but it's accurate. When I opened the bathroom door smoke belched out, washed over me and the entire upstairs, and then fell down the stairs into the living room like a lugubrious poltergeist bent on destruction.

The entire bathroom was on fire. The flames licked around the medicine cabinet before it fell from its place on the wall, the fire now exposing the rest of its hellish body made of twisted, curling flares. The heat blasted me backwards a bit, a miniture backdraft slamming me into the wall. My head crashed into the mirror behind me cracking it and leaving a small bruise. The fire roared. My god, it's a sound you can't forget. A dark and frightful voice bellowing as it devoured, ate, and consumed. A beast fueled by wood, brick, and schadenfreude. It would have the walls, it would have the bathroom, and given the chance it would have me.

"The fire's back! Get the stuff again and RUN!!!" I slammed the door behind me in an attempt to trap it the fire and smoke and, hopefully, slow it down. As BF and I attempted to dress in the dark and smoke we called the cats. We shoved them into a single carrier, grabbed the important things and ran out.

We looked up and saw the entire roof was on fire. My neighbors were all escaping themselves and onlookers gazed in horror as the firefighters came once again to put out the reflash that had taken over the building.

-----

It's two days later. My roommate is back from San Diego and he and I are living with Elise at the moment who has kindly put us up.

The apartment is a charred out husk now. All ash, smoke, and debris. Due to the toxicity of the building materials we have been advised to only go in for a few minutes at a time as the air is unsafe to breathe.

I just met with the claims adjuster to talk about the damage. (I had renter's insurance, I highly suggest it if you rent and don't have it). All soft goods, i.e. furniture, clothes, mattresses, are totaled. Electronics are totaled. Bathroom is totaled. All food not in the fridge is totaled - either contaminated by smoke, asbestos, or they were boiled or burnt in their own canisters when the fire tore through the kitchen. Pots and plates survived. Due to my insurance everything of mine will be covered. Roommate did not have insurance, so for him not so much. Cookbooks and regular books and school books all survived and will be cleaned through some sort of ozone technology, so yay. Artwork survived as well.

I spent yesterday apartment hunting and just turned in an application. I have to, however, have the cats checked out at the vet as it has been a while since they had their shots or a check up and apartments seem anal about that now.

I'm in Borders using their free wifi and drinking a mocha - right now I survive on caffeine and sugar - and am writing all this out because if I don't I'm pretty sure I'm going to scream and punch a wall out of incoherent rage until my knuckles bleed.

"It could have been a lot worse." It could have. I actually broke down laughing when I walked in the apartment today because, holy crap, it's funny just how totally screwed you can become so quickly. However, I'm tired of hearing "It could have been worse." That's true, but the whole thing still fucking sucks. It fucking sucks a lot.

However, it could have been worse. Thing will get replaced. The cats will see a vet. I have a great support network of family, friends, and bloggers. I will be in Mexico next week with a lot of my blogging buds (I really need the vacation more than ever). No one was hurt, though my lungs hurt a bit and I still smell like smoke after two showers.

It will all work out. It always does.

And sweet, tap dancing, mother-fucking Christ, I never, ever want to eat, see, or smell a s'more ever again.

Menu for Hope 6 - The Most Vanilla Bid Item There Is

Yes, it's time again for Menu for Hope, the biggest and most important food blogger event that's held every year and spearheaded by the truly delightful, and even quite noble, Pim Techamuanvivit. This campaign raises money, almost a quarter of a million dollars over the last few years, to support the good work of the UN World Food Programme (WFP). WFP is the world’s largest food aid agency, working with over 1,000 other organizations in over 75 countries. In addition to providing food, the World Food Program helps hungry people to become self-reliant so that they escape hunger for good.

This year, we are supporting a new initiative at the WFP called Purchase for Progress (P4P). P4P enables smallholder and low-income farmers to supply food to WFP’s global operation. P4P helps farmers improves farming practices and puts more cash directly into their pockets in return for their crops. This will also help buoy local economies by creating jobs and incomes locally. We food bloggers understand the importance of buying locally and supporting our local farms, P4P helps do the same for farmers in low income countries around the world. More on P4P can be found at http://www.wfp.org/purchase-progress.

What food bloggers do is offer up a dazzling and delectable array of food-related bid items for the Menu for Hope raffle. People (this means you) buy raffle tickets to win them. They can range from signed cookbooks to meals at the most prestigious and famous resturants, to rare food and cooking equipment. For every $10 donated, you earn one virtual raffle ticket to bid on a bid item of your choice. A pretty sweet deal considering the worth of the items you're bidding for. At the end of the two-week campaign, the raffle tickets are drawn and the results announced on Chez Pim.

The campaign takes place from December 14 through Christmas. A perfect amount of time for you to drool over the various bid items we're offering and make your bids (maybe a Christmas gift for yourself?).

Now, We know our readers trust us, but we also want to be completely transparent in our fundraising. So, we use a very good online fundraising company called FirstGiving, who has worked with us since the first Menu for Hope years ago. FirstGiving collects and processes the payments and, at the end of the campaign, transfers the donations in one lump sum to the WFP. The bloggers don't touch the money and WFP benefits from the money raised getting one huge lump sum that they can distribute amongst farmers in need.

By now you're probably wondering what sort of bid item Vanilla Garlic is hosting. If you're a regular reader then you know by now that when I describe something as "vanilla" I don't mean it to be boring. Vanilla is no Plain Jane playing some game alone in the corner. No, here "Vanilla" refers to the fantastic, flavorful, and intriguing. If I describe something as vanilla, it deserves all of your attention because, damn it, it's vanilla!

Thus, I present what I consider to be one, if not the, most vanilla bid item during this year's Menu for Hope. I dropped a line over to my buddies at Beanilla, one of the top vanilla bean companies in the world, and they were all over the idea of donating something for Menu for Hope. Together we've put together a vanilla package of the likes you've never seen.


A basket containing:
1 x 25 - Madagascar Vanilla Beans
1 x 25 - Tahitian Vanilla Beans
1 x 25 - Bourbon Vanilla Beans
1 x 25 - Mexican Vanilla Beans
1 x 25 - Organic Indonesian Vanilla Beans
1 x 25 - Indian Vanilla Beans
1 x 25 - Tongan Vanilla Beans
1 x Bourbon-Madagascar 3-Fold Vanilla Paste, 1 oz.
1 x Tahtian 3-Fold Vanilla Paste, 1 oz.
1 x Tahitian Vanilla Fleur de Sel, 2 oz.
1 x Tahitian Vanilla Organic Cane Sugar, 6 oz.
1 x Organic Indonesian Ground Vanilla, 1/2 oz.
1 x 2-Fold Madagascar Vanilla Extract, 4 oz.

Oh yes, that's 175 vanilla beans of 7 different varieties. Some super intense vanilla pastes which are, in my opinion, wonderful in baking where you need vanilla to really kick any other flavor's butt. Vanilla Fleur de Sel is a sea salt scraped from rocks off the coast of Brittany, France and combined with premium ground vanilla beans. Sprinkle this onto some brownies or rub into meats for an intriguing new savory vanilla taste. Vanilla sugar makes for perfect cookies imbuing them with intense aromatic vanilla tastes. You can use ground vanilla for spice rubs, teas, or any other creative culinary concoction that needs that sweet orchid scent.

Enough vanilla to last you a lifetime. Can I get a "Hell, yes,"?

You know you want your vanilla fix. If you're here, you're a bean junky like me. So do yourself a favor and bid. You'll have a shot at the ultimate vanilla package, plus many other awesome items hosted by the many other phenomenal food blogs. But, more importantly, you'll be encouraging local procurement and help low-income farmers produce food for the people who need it most. This is your chance to help feed others, improve local economies that need it most, encourage agricultural productivity in striving regions, and help solve the root causes of hunger in the world. Take a moment this holiday season and give back to those in the food world who need a little extra help.

The bid item code for the Vanilla Garlic vanilla package donated by Beanilla is UW13. There are no shipping restrictions, so you can bid no matter where you are.

To Donate and Enter the Menu for Hope Raffle

Here's what you need to do:

1. Choose a bid item or bid items of your choice from our Menu for Hope main bid item list.

2. Go to the donation site at Firstgiving and make a donation.

3. Please specify which bid item you'd like in the 'Personal Message' section in the donation form when confirming your donation. You must write-in how many tickets per bid item, and please use the bid item code.
Each $10 you donate will give you one raffle ticket toward a bid item of your choice. For example, a donation of $50 can be 2 tickets for EU01 and 3 tickets for EU02 - 2xEU01, 3xEU02.

4. If your company matches your charity donation, please check the box and fill in the information so we could claim the corporate match.

5. Please check the box to allow us to see your email address so that we can contact you in case you win. Your email address will not be shared with anyone.

You can see a complete list of hosts for the many different bid items and other bits of info about Menu for Hope at Chez Pim. Check back on Chez Pim and here on Monday, January 18 for the results of the raffle.

Happy holidays everyone!

The New Vanilla Garlic

Didn't recognize the place did ya'? Yeah, the blog has a brand-spanking new look. I think it fits me pretty well.

The old blog was like an old house, wonderful because it had so many memories and emotions attached to it. However, over time, you begin to notice little things. The paint is peeling, the floor creaks, the door jams, and dammit if that light doesn't always seem to go out. In this case broken links, light text on a dark background, and non-user friendly layout were hurting the blog. It had gone in its previous incarnation as far as it could.

It was time to renovate. Touch things up. Redecorate. Some new paint. New furnishings. Fancy side bars. Clear FAQ pages. This was sweeping under the rugs and getting out the useless buttons dirtying things up. It was hanging window treatments to advertise my twitter and myspace. This was Extreme Home Makeover - Blog Edition.

Still, it's a big change. Change is supposed to be a good thing, but I must admit I don't handle it well. This was a stressful process. One I have been putting off for sometime, as I've been hiding under the covers so it couldn't get me.

I have two people to thank for all their help in this. The first is Ellie Moore of Rainy Day Templates who worked with me, listened to me, gently helped me make good conclusions and sound decisions, and made this whole process extremely fun (and affordable). Ellie, you are amazing.

The second I have to thank Elise who did an amazing job taking and editing the banner picture. The old one was cobbled out of my poor Photoshop skills and pictures I lifted from the web when I first started blogging.

Anyways, I'll be still fixing a few things here and there over the next few days so if you see things missing or out of whack, please bear with me.

Thank you much!

XOXO

-Garrett

Sake Tasting

There's something to be said for the satisfying sound of a hard shot glass slamming onto a table at your favorite sushi bar. The odd tasting but soup like brew that makes up the sake shooter is a slightly disturbing - yet satisfying - concoction.

If you've never had one a sake shooter is composed of hot sake, a quail egg, a slice or two of green onion, a raw oyster, and diced chili peppers. It kinda tastes like soup with that sears your throat with the burn of cheap booze and capsicum. This has been the totality of my sake knowledge up until now.

"Cheap sake is always served warm," Ed Lehrman told me and the others over the phone during our conference call. "It's to cover up the undesirable flavors that develop." It made sense I suppose, I guess it's why most people at the sushi joints order good sake chilled.

"Also, sake in Japan is rarely drank with sushi. Usually with grilled seafood or other meats. More often than not beer is served with sushi."

Ahh, point goes to you Ed.

I was learning a lot over this little tasting session. My homegirl in Florida, Jaden, had been acting as a liazon with Vine Connections (whom Ed is one of the founding partners of) to organize a sake tasting with various other food writers. I was honored to be included with a distinguished group such as Andrea Nguyen, Amy Sherman, Matthew Amster-Burton, Lorna Yee, and Kim O'Donnel. When I first logged into the online conference room I was slightly intimidated as I'm a devout acolyte to their writing and strive to obtain even a slight modicum of their talent. To be in included in an event with them blew my socks off and clear into the washer.

After a few technical difficulties and a quick run upstairs to put my hair up and put a shirt on (no one told me my webcam would automatically be turned on) we were led through a sake tutorial (you can see Jaden's here) along with a a few question and answer sessions. Afterwards we were led through the various types of sake sipping, sniffing and analyzing through chat messages our takes on each proffering a nose of cheese or a taste of banana peel in an attempt to pin down the profile of each sake.

The sakes were each amazing, one in particular called Divine Droplets was particularly impressive. The brewer Takasago Ginga Shizuku builds an igloo every years as a place to press the sake during its final steps in processing in order to keep the sake pure and free of contaminants. It had a distinct nose of slightly stinky cheese, but a flavor that was crisp with notes of apple and pear followed by a pleasantly fermenty funk.

The tasting was assisted by the bottles themselves, the Vine Connections peeps ensure that their label is clear and describes the flavor, grade, type of rice, and so on. All participants were in agreement that wine, tequila, and all liquors should emulate this label model. Clear, simple, and useful.
Just as one might discover with wine or chocolate, sake develops personality based on it's processing mode, the type of rice used, the terroir. The whole tasting was culturally enlightening and gave you an appreciation for the sake brewers who had been dedicated to their task for years and years (one brewing company had been around fro over 800). All this knowledge and the understanding that you were drinking sake that had been carefully crafted using such precise methods bestowed a pleasure that was thought provoking. ...And tipsy. Drinking a bunch of sake at 10 am on a weekday will do that to a guy.

Now, having a tiny frame and a little roommate it was mandatory that I call over friends over to try them as well. After giving them the history of sake and watching Jaden's video on the sake making process we all went around and tried each of the sakes. We laughed and took notes, enjoying the sake and it's ability to bring us all together to enjoy one another's company. I was happy that I given the opportunity to learn about sake and then pass that knowledge on to the people I care about so much.

I'm looking forward to creating some desserts with sake and doing some dessert pairings in the future. Be sure to stay tuned to see what boils up. Another special shout out to Ed, Sarah, Jaden and all the peeps at Vine Connections for their kindness, articulate presentations, and generosity.

Kanpai!

Rooster Killing and the Big Fat Greek Party

Honestly, guys, really, I'm too drained to type. I really am. I'm physically and mentally exhausted. Today's post is simple. Links and images and a few bits of story telling. 

A few weeks ago I spent time with Hank, Elise, and Biggie killing roosters and learning how to break them down. I would write more, but honestly, Hank already did a phenomenal job doing it so I am sending you there. Elise and Biggie also took some amazing photos. (Please ignore my foofy hair in that one pic - I am in need of a haircut, it was windy, and I was trying to help catch a rooster with spurs from hell in the most ghettoesque pen you ever did see.)

More recently we all returned to Hank and Holly's for the Annual Big Fat Greek Party. A yearly gala where Hank prepares an insane amount of salads, pickles, cookies, and more meat than you can shake a stick at. 

I arrived early with a giant plate of baklava in tow (which I might ad was very well received to the point that people were refusing the store bough crap someone brought, this gave me joy) to help Hank do some set up. 
"Hold the legs here for a second will you?" I was asked. On the kitchen table sat a skinned and gutted goat, and next to it was Hank attempting to saw the greater part of the next off of it with a hacksaw (all the better for it to fit on the pit, mind you). I put the baklava and held the goat's legs. After the neck was off I sort of straddled the carcass so Hank could whack at the ribs as the connected to the spine with a clever in order for us to crack open the ribcage and, essentially, butterfly it. It's a monumental task requiring a lot of strength and an explanation as to why butchers' are so freaking huge.
Afterwards, Hank went to seasoning it with chili pepper, salt, pepper, garlic, and celery seed (the secret to seasoning wild game). While he generously gave me pointers and hints should I ever find myself with a spare goat carcass or with a spare leg of lamb to smoke I went about broiling some asparagus and chopping some mint. Work went well until a teeny tiny brush fire started. Thankfully it was out as quick as it had started.*

Soon we were joined by various friends, Elise of Simply Recipes, Biggie of Lunch in a Box with son and husband, Ashley, and my professor Helen (the one I've been doing meal research for), along with many others. Some hunters, some students, some cooks. A nice motley group. Biggie was kind enough to give me a nifty bento for work, a shibby mode of portion control and the thing is built to withstand the apocalypse so it should be able to endure my accident prone life.
The night was full of great food, good drinking, stories, jokes, and discussions on everything from the right kind of duck decoy to Denning's "The Cultural Front" in which I was shocked at how much I was able to actually recall and discuss without problem; I guess the education thing is working.

A fabulous time had by all. Thanks Hank and Holly!
*Aside from the fire issue a small water one occurred as well. Apparently, the water is fickle in their house so you shouldn't use the sink when someone is in the shower. Sorry, Holly.

My Thanksgiving Menu & Thanks

Vanilla Cinnamon Cranberry Sauce
Mashed Potatoes with Garlic
Caramelized Brussel Sprouts
Baked Ham with Brown Sugar Spice Glaze
Cranberry Sorbet
Cinnamon Blondies

Something simple, easy, perfect for four.

So now comes the part where we all say why we're thankful that the turkey died for our sins*. Me? I'm thankful that my life is complacent. It's not perfect, but I have a good job(s), great friends, a good education, wonderful family. I am surrounded by people who care about me. I have two cats who piss me off to no end, but I wouldn't give up for the world. I have a roof over my head. A car that gets me from place to place. I eat well, and am able to cook for pleasure.

There is always room to bitch and complain about everything in life, but in the long run, I'm more than blessed for the life that I have. So, I guess I am thankful that everything is status quo.

Happy Thanksgiving.*if I had any fundamentalist readers, I just lost them for that one

Toasted Seeds and Other Things

Ah yes, the seeds, here they are. Six cups of them to be precise. I used Elise's recipe, which always works like a charm. They were, to be succinct, delicious.

I also got in some new vanilla beans that were grown in India. The beans are huge and very oily, with a very muted, woodsy quality. A good vanilla that would stand up well to spices with a more heady comportment in a dish, where the presence of cloves, rosemary, cinnamon, or thyme (and other such flavors with a dominating flavor) may threaten to eclipse other vanilla varieties. I updated the Vanilla Varieties page as well, if you wanna check it out.

I have taken to putting some in small vials with brandy or rum to create some cleverly flavored extracts for Christmas gifts. I look forward to tasting the results.On another completely unrelated note my friend Paige, who works over as Vosges as one of their marketers, and I were chatting. We set up a special little dealie-o for all you Vanilla Garlic readers. If you want to try some of their wares you can get 10% from now till the end of November by using this code during the point of purchase online at their website. The code is: 2810WB1. I'm not getting anything for this, just something for you guys if you're interested.

Hope that you all find your November starting well, the next few days are going to be crazy. Time change and elections! For those living in CA, please vote No on 8. Don't deny me the right to wedding gift registry in the future. ;)