What's normal Anyway?

One of my friends at work today said, I don't think you guys eat anything normal. At first that is an easy statement to accept , but as I think about it it makes me realize why I am cooking in the first place. I actually want the food that I am cooking to become my normal. If I can see the progression of Trying a recipe and progressing to getting good at it and developing my own style then I can own it. Then i have acheived normal.

Bibimbap is like that for me. In a subliminal quest to eat better I need the flavors to be like snapping life out of the jaws of death! people like George Stella and Juan Carlos on the Food Network told us many years ago that if we wanted to change our diet we could actually enjoy food even after you've made drastic changes to improve your health. I think we do eat normally. Eating a box of Kraft Mac and cheese (which I did try a forkful one time) would be the weirdest most NOT normal thing I could eat. So, what is "normal"? It is different for all of us. Whenever there is a potluck type meal at work, I love this because it allows us to see the diversity of our friends through the food they bring. I know there is the occasional person who could care less about food and when they bring in a super size bag of Cool Ranch Doritos, so like there is collateral damage in any worthy investment. Korean food amazes me because it is enjoyed and shared as a celebration of life, it's achievements, friends, family, and praises the differences in everything. Here is to those differences. May they continue to flavor our lives.

Everything I ever needed to know I learned from Maangchi

This summer while camping I took on something I never thought I would, reading the novel, "Julie and Julia". When Donna first mentioned it to me, that the campground office had a book exchange library and this Julie Powell piece was available, I declined. This was because I saw the movie. Later that day, while at the office, I took the book down and began to read the reviews. It sounded abrasively riotous, complicated, rudely sarcastic and witty. In other words, I was beginning to think maybe the movie only shared a title with the book. I decided to try it. I was right, the screenwriters told a completely different story. They " Brady Bunched" Julie's story. The Julie Powell in the book was unstable, often selfish, envious, injured and direction-less. So, I concluded, she was human. I gave real Julie a try. Most know, the author decided to cook her way through Julia Child's "Mastering the Art of French Cooking." 524 recipes in 365 days. It seemed like such a great idea, one othose that makes you want to take on something too. I would never cook through MtAoFC. I thought of my YouTube buddy, Maangchi. Her cookbook had been out for a little over a year now, but I had never actually seen it in person. I have always known the I would buy it, I made the assumption that it would be a cookbook that look like it was written by a YouTube novice. But still, I have cooked more of Maangchi's recipes than anyone elses by far. Maybe there could be a way? It still felt weird. The recipes I have tried have just gotten better all the time and even better, I was learning so much while enjoying them. I knew last month that it was time for me to buy her cookbook and support her for this wonderful gift she was given to so many people and to thank her for the joy she brought to my family and for the large crock of kimchi in my downstairs refrigerator, that now after five months is even better than ever! I feel bad that I thought Maangchi's book would be a "Mc Cookbook". Why should I think that when everything she ever gave us is as real as your best friend walking you through a process. No, she is a very competent teacher, cook and entrepreneur. I received the book and it is beautiful. Well written, arranged and photographed. It is also not only a collection of recipes but the " why and how" this food exists. Detailed explanation of how this food is so much more than food. It's life balance and harmony. It is great because it was built on the understanding of who we are and rather than hammering the square peg into the round hole, this book competently explains how to go with it, and reach bliss in taste, health and celebration of life and moments with food. The food etticate of Koreans is honorably and lovingly founded upon deep respect and in many cases is very contrary to other Asian countries. So now the idea of cooking my way through "Maangchi's Real Korean Cooking" seems like an exceptional goal. Keep in mind, Julie Powell lived in Long Island City, Queens. I live in Weathersfield Vermont. The ability to gather more obscure items can be a challenge. After all, even Yipings Asain Market in West Leb, (which I love) does not carry all of the Korean ingredients I require on a regular basis. I really want this. So now I pause to assess this very intriguing opportunity. I will keep you posted.

The Oyster

In 1999 a spark happened. Korean Garden in Junction City, Kansas. My National Guard unit, the 744th Transportation Company was running special missions with our trucks. It seems that the military, during Desert Storm had made one of the most shocking decisions of the entire conflict, by which I mean they forced us (surprisingly not at gunpoint) to pressure wash our army trucks and trailers in saltwater. In the years that followed, not surprisingly to anyone breathing air, the trucks were categorically rusting out and were catching fire and electronically shorting out due to widespread corrosion in the electrical systems. 

 

8 years later, the state of NH found a shop in Saginaw, TX to refit the tractors and a maintenance company at Fort Riley Kansas to refit the trailers. 60 trucks and 122 trailers needed transporting. After a long day of driving from northern Texas, we arrived at Fort Riley, Kansas in the afternoon and changed into civilian clothes. We called a taxi to take us into Junction City just a few miles outside of the post. Riley had seen better days. Now, looking like a ghost town as we arrived on the main strip in Junction City, where a depressed plethora of restaurants awaited our scrutiny. The Failed Clinton Administration had closed many once-bustling bases and reduced the local economy the income of a 13-year-old paperboy. The conditions of the restaurants only proved that point. 

 

The taxi that picked us up should have earned us medals for bravery. A near-blind 50 something troll-like woman driving a 1989 Chevrolet Celebrity station wagon that was obviously lacking adequate exhaust and brakes came to bring us into town. There were probably 9 of us jammed into this thing. Even worse was that she drove it like an enduro car clearly oblivious to the fact that the car was a death trap. She dropped us off on the strip and we were thankful none of us died or even messed ourselves. 

 

We set off on a journey that took us into one restaurant after another. They all failed somehow. One might have a menu that did not appeal to the mass of us. Another may have revealed a less than clean kitchen which was seen when a door opened. Another the carpets smelled like mildew and dog and of carpet fresh. We came to a sports bar kind of place that served typical bar food, burgers, fries, wings, etc. It was there we lost 3 of our posse. We continued on and within minutes we came upon a very small and modest building that housed a simple family Korean restaurant called the Korean Garden. Our group contained two contrasting "Wayne's". One of them I would have expected to have stayed at the sports bar. The other Wayne knew Korean food well because when he was on active duty, he was a colonel's driver in South Korea. This colonel LOVED Korean food, so he ate "on the economy". (A phrase used when you are on military duty but you eat your meals at local restaurants instead of in a mess hall or military rations). So other Wayne KNEW Korean food.  With the exception of one of us, no one knew what we should order. Fortunately, there was "other Wayne" to explain it to us. We all ordered.  It was evident in the gleam in other Wayne's eyes when he smiled and said, "man! you guys just ordered a crazy amount of food!", we were in for an experience.

 

The restaurant was simple, clean, and family-owned. No gratuitous decorations. Just simple with white linen table cloths and a nice atmosphere. Today I find it odd, looking back other than the bulgogi and rice and maybe some pork belly, I cannot tell you what I ate. But there is only one way to describe this moment in my life.  Anthony Bourdain described his first oyster as the most formidable firsts of his entire life.  That the one first time is what opened the door to every other firsts in his life. This moment, as he described it was, "there was no turning back. The genie was out of the bottle."

 

The six of us all shared our food around the table, family-style. We all could taste everything and in that a festive mood filled the room.  Little did we know, except for "other Wayne" that we were caught in the historic spirit of the the food which was the humble celebration of life.  A people who were starving, down-trodden and poor had endeavored to persevere and in doing so, were blessed so richly for their efforts.

 

Not a single one of us was disappointed. In fact, we were walking on air. This was evident when my friend, Wayne (the first one mentioned) who is a straight-up meat and potatoes man exclaimed with pride as though he had just took the champion title of Fear Factor,  " Mikie, I ate rice!" 

 

For me, I did not know it, but that day became a subliminal atomic bomb detonated in my DNA. Those moments in life are the most amazing to me because we cannot be sure if at that moment we were changed forever or if we just suddenly began to find out who we are. I did not know it was happening, but like a powerful undercurrent in which nothing can resist, I was drifting in that, there was no escaping it.

 

 In the fall of 2000, I was recovering from back surgery, I downloaded Korean recipes by night and cooked by day. Despite my culinary infancy which often led to flavor imbalance, I did not even think of giving up. Like Clapton's, "Have You Ever Loved a Woman" I could not leave it alone. Even 16 years later, I am discovering absolute continents of self-understanding. I know this sounds so dramatic. But I am not kidding! I get it now! I was attached to Korean food before I could truly understand what it really means for my life and existence. Like a pregnant mom craves iron-rich food when she is anemic, I have a fire burning in me and did not know why. The prize though is much deeper than I knew. How could food be so deep? The Koreans got it right. It took a wonderful woman with a cooking YouTube channel named Emily Kim (a.k.a. Maangchi) to help me begin to understand. I promise to explain that very soon. It will all make sense soon, because it is starting to make sense to me.

Hammer Girl does it again!

Emily Kim is a phenomenal Korean home cook, who has a knack for teaching. Better known by her web name "Maangchi" ("Hammer" in Korean). She never intended to become the Korean cooking sensation, but with guidance from children, she posted her first YouTube cooking video using her gaming name. This led to another them another. Now 9 years later, Maangchi has 288 videos posted and has more than 1,317,204 YouTube subscribers, more than Martha Stewart, Alton Brown, Ree Drummond and Ina Garten combined. She is widely loved by her fans. Her recipes really work. Tonight I made her Honey butter fried chicken. It was beautiful. . Not only are her recipes easy to understand, create and eat, but her organization is easy and light weight. When I made the chicken, it was so easy to keep every thing in one bowl and then clean as i went.

Culinarily Maangchi is the greatest thing that has happened to me in a long time. I have learned that it doesn't matter how young or old you are. Seize your dream! She is 59 now and doing so well she had to quit her job several years ago to do this full time. Obviously, i am not interested in YouTube being a centerpiece of my life, I only wish to use it as a tool for the big picture.

Monday's through Fridays are days of rest......compared to the weekend!

There are 2 things I like to do on the weekends. I like to create a great meal that inknow I could not find in a restaurant. I also like it if I can accomplish something around the house from my insanely colossal list of things to fix, remodel, refurbish or rehabilitate. Sometimes this involves automotive tasks. Today I put a front end in Donna's Jeep just about a year after putting a front end in Donna's Jeep. Yes,I have been stung by Autozone. Lifetime warranty parts are only a deal if you are not the poor sucker that has to put them in twice! So, control arms, tie rod ends and stabilizer links done again with NOT Autozone parts. I have not only done crazy amounts of car repair over the years, but I have done it under fire. I have crawled under a 79 Plymouth to fix the muffler in Pennsylvania, West Virginia, Kentucky, Tennessee, Arkansas, (took a break from it there and threw it in the back of the car and drove across Arkansas without a muffler). Put it back on in Texarkanna. Just in time for a new charging system issue to crop up. I have lost brakes many times. Twice on cross county trips, both of which I had less than $60 on me. Jacksonville, Florida in 88 and Kilgore, Texas in 89. I was stuck for hours on the Will Rogers Turnpikein Oklahoma for hours in October 1986 and had to figure things out on my own. Triple A existed, but back then, for me, "that's what old people have". Point is, I have paid my dues, I could tell a thousand stories. Getting down on the bold floor under a car (with RA mind you) is not my idea of fun. Yes the dilemma is, this job would have been hundreds in labor, so I am stuck. So here I am, in serious pain, it's 2:19 AM and I cannot sleep. I did not let this stop us from having a great meal though. I have not done Asian Dumplings in a long time. I made sure before I went out to work on the car, I first prepped the evening meal.

Donna and Noah did the honors of wrapping and cooking class he potstickers. I showed up in time to make a potsticker sauce for dipping. So all in all, I got the 2 things done that I wanted to. But I realize that I wonder if I am doing something wrong. Half of the people I know we're at Brewfest today, which I of course would not go to, only because I have not had any alcohol since September 9th 1989. But wouldn't it be nice to find a "Foodfest" or something like that? Then I can enjoy something great like my friends. I would totally love Brewfest if not for this pesky little thing known as addiction. But I can' t help but wonder, does my stuff break more than theirs? I work all weekend 16 times harder than I do during the week. I work pretty hard then too! Don't get me wrong, I am not really complaining and I would not change my life. It's more algebraic to me. I wonder if I am just doing the math wrong. I saw an example of that working on the car today. It took me 4 times longer to-do the right (first) side than the left. Why? Because I was SMARTER by the time I got to the left. I renamed this blog "We All Woke Up" for two reasons. There was a Yoko Ono song on the 1972 Sometime in new York City LP called "We're All Water" that was about racial equality. The song points out there may not be a difference between Chairman Mao and Richard Nixon, if we strip them naked. A great song, but if you can't do Yoko, better not go there. On a bootleg vinyl record I bought at Cheapskate Records in the early 80s, the song "We're all Water" was printed on the label as "We All Woke Up". I mostly beleive the person rweßposible WS probably one of the many notorious Yoko haters that blamed her for wrecking the Beatles. But the statement, we all woke up seemed so beautiful to me. That brings me to the Secord reason. I want to wake up. Mentally. I want to take all of my experience, my memories, my knowledge, connect those dots and guess what? I WANNA ROCK! I just want to do it all a little better. Be more thoughtful and caring. Just like the car, I want my missteps to make better steps. Let's wake the heck up man!

Asian Grocery, Best Buy, B.A.M, and "Going under is cool"

Today was a day we had been wanting to get to, or at least out of the way. Noah needed to have a biopsy on the bone near his right ankle. It has been swollen in a lump since last April. A summer of ultra sounds, x-rays and blood work have led to the need for a biopsy. This is the 4th time in Noah's 10 years we put him out for a procedure. Most of these in the last 3 years.

I have such PTSD about this since a major hospitalization in 2009 in which he was under for 11 days allowing a machine to do his breathing for him and hospitalized for 21 days that time. But Noah informed me today, "going under is so cool." He takes all of this in stride, he is amazing. I am so proud of him.

He has been through so much,I would buy him a leer jet if he asked for one (and I could afford one). His request was B.A.M. (Books a Million). Unfortunately, they moved to a location half it's previous size. They somehow managed to not continue to carry all of the things Noah wants to go there for. Yes, I would buy the store and make them carry what he wants. He earned it.

We went to Liam's requested destination, Best Buy. There is a graphics card that Noah wants. I would love to get it for him, but it is $200, his computer really couldn't handle it either. I would need to buy him a computer too. It's a slippery slope. I hope some day Noah will know how much I admire his bravery and how proud I am of him.

One more stop before we left the upper valley, the Asian grocery. When we got home, he said he would love potstickers. I did not have everything I needed to make them, but I realized if I did have everything, I am really fried tonight. As Noah's father, I have stayed awake to see him through so many nights. I have read "Are You My Mother" a hundred times in 21 days. I am nothing though. Well, nothing but ever thankful to be his Dad.

A bunch of random particles spinning in the void...

I do not feel that I have really blogged. If you want to be respected as a blogger YOU MUST EARN IT! So I have failed. I need some gravitational core to cause all of the bits of me to pull together into a cohesive ball of blog wielding excellence. So what is it that I do? I play guitar, I can write music and lyrics ( at least last time I checked I could). I can cook, make soap, perform nearly every mechanical task on an automobile, carpentry, propane work, painting,flooring, propane installation and service work, drive big trucks, write books, sing, glaze windows, sheet rock, fell trees, camp, fish, hike perform many tasks in the technology field. What does one write about, when these are the things you can do? I just want it all to make sense. Tormented by this knowing a little about a lot makes me feel aimless at times. I have this magnificent long term memory. I always say that I can remember anything that does not make me money. Do I like working on cars? Absolutely not! I do that to save the load of money it would cost otherwise. I have held colossal pieces of junk together with p!umbers strap, sheet rock screws and my bare hands. I do have stories, and just maybe I can capture the age. Mine and the age of the world at the time and MAKE you feel it like a summer downpour. My abilities and my memories float like on a Sunbeam together, not knowing their proper place. Can I liberate them and allow the stories to be heard and the ability to be shared? Days Of Future Passed, the Moody Blues album was released in 1967 two months after my 2nd birthday. My parents loved it (the 8 track) and played it allot. Every note and word is etched into the fabric of who I am, like tying a rope around a tree limb that absorbs the rope as it grows. Nights in White Satin,the more famous of the composition, ends with a poetic and futile rant about the manipulation of our perceptions when it comes to night. The poem at the end of NiWS, actually called Late Lament reads, "Breathe deep the gathering gloom, Watch lights fade from every room. Bedsitter people look back and lament, Another day's useless energy spent. Impassioned lovers wrestle as one, Lonely man cries for love and has none. New mother picks up and suckles her son, Senior citizens wish they were young. Cold hearted orb that rules the night, Removes the colours from our sight. Red is grey and yellow white. But we decide which is right. And which is an illusion?" Friday night was the harvest moon. My family and I just pulled into Winhall Brook in South Londonderry Vermont. After setting up, Noah and I took a walk in the (forgive me) serious moonlight. Winhall is in a severe valley. The moon light lit everything to be seen, but, spectacularly in black and white, Just like the poem says. Never have I seen it so vividly. I kept pointing it out to Noah, and although I think he gets it at ten, I am sure that during some harvest moon many years from now, he will suddenly feel close to me, even if I am gone for a long time when he really sees it again. Of all that I am I can only promise this, that the way my brain works will confuse you sometimes and you will wonder how one thing can possibly relate to the other in my head. Sometimes I will be nice and explain the connection. Other times I will not. Again, a kindness, the reality being just too boring. They may be random particles, but they somehow compose me. I may have the smallest of hopes tonight of a chance to be blog-worthy. I promise though not to get too over confident, there is a very long way to go.

Well, yes, I have fallen for a few cooking "devices".

I have become better about it over the past few years. But there was a time where I really loved watching infomercials about interesting cooking gadgets. I think Alton Brown help me to get over it. The first one I ever bought was the Runco dehydrator and let's face it the dehydrator is a very useful device. I bought mine back in 1993. It was crude by today's standards but did the job. Because it the old dehydrator did not make any noise cuz there was no fan and then I had cats and they would knock it over and eat the beef jerky that I was making. I created a wooden plywood deck with eye hooks on it and which I would criss-cross bungee strap the dehydrator down so they couldn't knock it over. My next irresistible cooking gimmick was the brown and crisp bags of the late 1990s. The infomercials would show chef Tony and some ditzy brunette woman cooking gourmet meals in the little pouches that are paper on the outside and had soil residue on the inside. Tony would nuke up this amazingly delicious meal and the girl let's call her Barbara would go all gaga over it. T-bone steak, asparagus, pork chops, broccoli, mashed potatoes, whatever it was chef Tony would cook it and Barbara would act so surprised you would think she was eating canned raviolis all of her life prior to this day. What about the plastic tube pasta cooker built of a space age polymer that was virtually indestructible. Just place the pasta in the tube filled with hot water put on the live in in just a few short minutes drain the water out using the strainer of it and dump the pasta into a bowl or plate. Perfect pasta every time. I used it once but because I bought it I feel obligated to keep it in my cupboard for many years to come. And yes of course the NuWave Oven that I just could not resist it tortured me the things you can do with the new wave oven was amazing periods I think the most intriguing thing about the new wave oven was evidently you could cook food in much less time but even more amazing what you could cook food that was coming directly out of the freezer. It definitely had to be some sort of miracle device in order to do that. I will say that cooking food directly out of the freezer is crazy and you shouldn't do it because I cook the chicken for the better part of what seemed like two and a half weeks and I had to keep putting it back on to make sure that it was actually cooked. The new wave oven is not all bad it does serve a useful purpose sometimes such as when you want some roasted chicken that is not frozen. I would not say though that it is worth to say that it occupies. In reality the only great cooking gadgets are the tried and true ones that have been around forever the cast iron and stainless steel chopsticks but that's a whole other blog.

How DID I learn to cook? Part 1

How did I learn to cook? This is a question that I am frequently asked. Some even ask if I went to culinary school. First of all, I AM TOTALLY flattered about that question! If only my Father could have heard that one. I too am very disbelieving of how the kid who "hated everything except hot dogs and the skin off Kentucky Fried Chicken" (Joe Jackson's words) could have ended up knowing how to make all of this incredible food, let alone EAT IT! Anyone who knows me, knows that I am a person inspired by associative reference. You say something to me, it reminds me of something I know, heard, done or a place I have been, and then I tell you about that. Let me say up front that you are very kind for indulging me as sometimes my thought process stretches that connection far enough that I need to explain how I associate these subjects. Food is no exception. It means something to me and is part of my history. Not at first though. Growing up, I ate an average assortment of food served be a standard parent of the 60's and 70's. Or at least I refused to eat it. There were little glimpses of food inspiration. Simple things. My grandmother making the finest crab apple jelly ever, her icebox sliced cucumbers, her old fashioned knowledge of how things were made was amazing. Sadly, during the 1970's, there were so many people from that generation around that I did not realize the greatness I was witnessing. Little did I know, that within a decade, we would all notice that the generation that lived though the great depression and the second world war would begin disappearing so quickly and that in 20 years, even the next generation would have many meet with an untimely end and with them even the echos of the home grown resourcefulness of those earlier generations would be facing extinction. I thought I was doing great when at 20, when I lived in Port Aransas, Texas, I figured out how to make an Upside-down Spice Dome Cake. Well I did not have a cake pan so I cooked it in a stainless bowl. I thought I was a hero when I mastered a Durkee cooking bag for spare ribs. One late spring Saturday night, my Dad and I were sipping beers, throwing darts, went to the Family Center IGA. There they had a cast iron frying pan and shrink wrapped in it were a pound of bacon, dozen eggs and pound of butter, all for a good deal. It had a strange effect on me. I wanted this collage of cooking completeness. More so, I NEEDED the cast iron pan! It had stirred a primal need to make fire, smack some cast iron down on it, and just fry something! So we brought this back to his house and talked about the cast iron and how to treat them with the respect they deserved. We made the bacon and eggs. It is funny that I think about that now. There was an undercurrent there. At times there is a peice of ice floating in the water and others....we'll this was the tip of the Berg. My Dad was an amazing cook. I loved his creativity though. In the summer of 86, my Grandfather bought him a microwave. At the time, microwave's in Port Aransas were like phones; you knew some people that had one, but it was like 1 out of every 10 people you knew. Myy father stayed up till like 2 AM trying to cook many things in a microwave that back then just did happen. This would be me today, I had a similar experience when I was trapped by an infomercial to buy a Nu-wave Oven back on 07. Another 10 years would pass. Oh I would grill food like other pathetic American men who think they cook. But I had no instinct,no feel or taste. When my father died in 96, I found an index card of a recipe he cut off the back of a french fried onion can. It was called Turkey Stuffing Bake. He made it for us inSeptember of 1984 when we had just moved to Ave J in Port Aransas. My Diet consisted mostly of Whataburger at the time. I was amazed that I loved this dish because (as I quote my past self here) "it has peas in it." 12 years later, it was an intimate connection with Joe Jackson in the past. My Dad continued to surface in my maturity. With it, a gravitational pull towards what you can do with food.

I need to blend food, music, memory and creativity somehow....and I think I may have figured it out.