Beans

Stacey has a delicious sounding bean soup recipe. I imagine I’ll skip the whole pureeing nonsense, as the texture of a toothy bean is a sublime thing. If attacked on the grounds of non-puree, i will simply leap behind my Cuban relations.

Around the corner from the tree

Tonight we had dinner with Chris and Poupou in the Little Saigon area at the intersection of 12th and Jackson. We were aiming to eat at the Tamarind Tree but found ourselves in a long line of people who had obviously been waiting for some time. I scouted for nearby eateries and found the family-style Thanh Vi right around the corner. Our experience was not at all like that recounted behind the link.

We ate ourselves silly for about $35. Of especial note were Viv’s amazing thin-cut charcoal-broiled ribs.

Chris also informed me that I appear to have allowed the domain for the International Organization of Cynics, Ne’er-Do-Wells, and Misanthropes lapse inadvertently. Horrors!

Kona

After tearassing around North Seattle before confirming that house #4 is one we want to bid on, Viv and I, starving, skidded to a stop in front of the oft-passed, always curiously eyed Kona Kitchen at 85th. I’d read good things about the place, and as we walked in, I was a bit surprised to hear the somewhat loud, live slack-key music played by a motley assortment and fronted by a striking, fiftyish soprano. The place was filled with obvious family groups, and a clear majority of the men were, in fact, wearing Hawaiian shirts.

Viv and I were a bit overwhelmed by the volume at first (which really wasn’t that loud, we were just tired and hungry) but I ordered fish and chips and a Kalua pig and cabbage. Watching the musicians, it was clear that we’d walked into a gathering of people who all seemed to know one another and the songs being performed. We had a beer and settled in to watch and listen.

As it happened, the night’s performance was led by one Stephen Inglis, and he was assisted by a semi-rotating cast of musicians, three of whom appeared to be guesting. One of these folks wandered over to our table and asked Viv if she was from Hawaii, and we chatted with him for a bit. He, the woman who had been singing when we walked in, and a bassist all appeared to have played together for many years, and although I enjoyed Inglis’ performance, I was intrigued by the relaxed interplay of the older players. Unfortunately, I did not catch the name of the guy who wandered over to chat with us before working his way around the room – he clearly knew the majority of people there.

At any rate, the food was delicious, the music was relaxing, and watching the room was a hoot. I had the presence of mind to record five of the performances on the phone – theoretically in stereo – so bend an ear. I haven’t proofed or remastered these tracks, so expect warts.

Ropa Vieja

Stacey has posted on how we spent our Saturday.

It involved Stacey, Greg, Viv and I cooking (mostly me and Stacey in the kitchen) a big ol’ mess of ropa vieja. It was yummy, we drank a bunch of mojitos and some Spanish riojas I had brought. I was surprised that neither Greg nor Stacey knew of my Dad’s thirty-plus year hobby of winemaking and collecting, and we discussed that a bit, among many many things. I have known Greg and Stacey now just a bit longer than Viv and I have been married, and I really enjoy their friendship and company. This was a happy cooking experience and I hope we have the chance to tackle some other unknown culinary terrain.

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Chirashi Fortune

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A solo dinner at Hana tonight with a nice bowl of chirashi and the New Yorker.

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Fortunes lined the walls upstairs. We had one in our doorbell frame for years but just noticed it was missing the other day.

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There was a column in the New Yorker about a man who is responsible for a significant chunk of the fortunes found in American fortune cookies.

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I have just adjusted my rising time, to my bitter early morning regret. Mornings are for people that underestimate sleep.

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oops – Last night I met Dan after work for a beer and we ended up having dinner – delicious Ethiopian food – with Viv and Vonda. Sleep followed immediately thereafter, at the cost of blogging.

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After some research, I have concluded that the 2-inch-long red pepper I inadvisably consumed in a single bite was probably the much-feared Habanero. It did, indeed, feel as though the lid of my skull was lifting away from my brain.

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