not a bad alternative.
Waterfalls and cooking. Those are the two things I want to write about in this post, and I've been trying in vain to come up with a clever way to link them together. You don't necessarily cook while looking at waterfalls, and the water doesn't need food to keep it falling. I thought about switching the two topics for things that matched a little better, but Iguazu comes next in the itinerary, and I've been looking forward to writing about food for weeks. So I just have to settle on having two slightly unrelated topics to try to work in a clunky transition between. So here goes.
For those of you who haven't heard of Iguazu Falls, it's a series of waterfalls right on the border of Argentina, Brazil and Paraguay. It was one of the places that we had hoped to get to, but as our pocketbooks and time remaining got thinner and shorter, respectively, we talked of cutting it out of the trip. It'll always be there, it's right in-between Buenos Aires and Brazil (and all of Steph's family) so it wasn't like the opportunity to see it wouldn't come up again. In fact, we had all but made that decision, when fate took control and sent a rather irresponsible camper to Patagonia to start a forest fire. The next thing you know, trails are closed, backpackers are evacuated, and we're on our way north instead of south. As sad as I was to miss out on Patagonia (and the friends who were going to meet us there), I think in the end it probably worked out for the best. We got to see the waterfalls AND have an extra 9 days in Brazil. Not such a bad alternative.
For those of you who haven't heard of Iguazu Falls, it's a series of waterfalls right on the border of Argentina, Brazil and Paraguay. It was one of the places that we had hoped to get to, but as our pocketbooks and time remaining got thinner and shorter, respectively, we talked of cutting it out of the trip. It'll always be there, it's right in-between Buenos Aires and Brazil (and all of Steph's family) so it wasn't like the opportunity to see it wouldn't come up again. In fact, we had all but made that decision, when fate took control and sent a rather irresponsible camper to Patagonia to start a forest fire. The next thing you know, trails are closed, backpackers are evacuated, and we're on our way north instead of south. As sad as I was to miss out on Patagonia (and the friends who were going to meet us there), I think in the end it probably worked out for the best. We got to see the waterfalls AND have an extra 9 days in Brazil. Not such a bad alternative.
so much water.
As I was saying, Iguazu Falls is an incredible series of waterfalls on the borders of three countries. And when I say incredible, I mean it. Niagara eat your heart out. I don't even know how it's possible for the Iguazu River to sustain the intensity of the falls 24 hours-a-day, seven days-a-week. It was so much water, it seemed like it would have to run out sometime. But no, on and on it goes. At the main falls, the water fell with such intensity that standing 100-meters away the spray was so strong I could probably have taken a shower and shampooed my hair. It was really incredible. Unfortunately, this also meant that the town of Puerto Iguazu, where we decided to stay, was damp all the time. We stayed at an inn, that was really just a room in someone's house, and it was probably one of the worst places we've stayed so far. It was so damp everything was a little moldy and breathing was not easy. This was something that might (emphasis on 'might') have been acceptable before we stayed with Steph's mom in Buenos Aires, but after the luxury it was like a slap in the face. Back to reality.
Due to the state of our accommodations, and how aware we were becoming of the limited amount of time we had left before returning home (as of this writing we return in exactly one month), we cut our time in Iguazu short by one day, jumped on an overnight sleeper bus to Curitiba (more on that in the next post), and felt satisfied that while we had not hiked Patagonia (one of the things I was looking forward to the most), we had at least seen one of the world's most amazing waterfalls and successfully crossed the border into Brazil nine days early.
Due to the state of our accommodations, and how aware we were becoming of the limited amount of time we had left before returning home (as of this writing we return in exactly one month), we cut our time in Iguazu short by one day, jumped on an overnight sleeper bus to Curitiba (more on that in the next post), and felt satisfied that while we had not hiked Patagonia (one of the things I was looking forward to the most), we had at least seen one of the world's most amazing waterfalls and successfully crossed the border into Brazil nine days early.
still finding time to cook a bit.
As this epic trip is winding down, I've been starting to take stock of the places I've been, the things I've seen and experienced, and if it was all worth it/I accomplished anything besides seeing some really amazing places. The biggest reason I decided to take this leap and travel the world this year was not to see things like Iguazu or Petra or Patagonia, though each of those places would be worth traveling the world to visit independently. It biggest reason was to experience the food. Having worked in restaurants since I was 15 (some better than others, I do count my years at Taco Bell and Olive Garden in there, since I certainly learned a lot about mass production), I have come to better understand how cooks learn. Going to culinary school is one thing, and I would never discount what I learned there, because it provided me with an amazing knowledge base from which to build on, but it's not where I really learned to cook. Cooks first learn to cook from other cooks, then second by experiencing new things and deconstructing how they were made. For the most part, up until this point in my career my learning has been entirely the former. Everyone in a professional kitchen has something to teach you, even the guy who clearly should have chosen another profession. Which means I've spent 16 years collecting as many techniques, recipes and cooking theories as I could, in an attempt to become the best cook possible. Because I love what I do. I love the process, I love the exactness and inexactness, and I love the satisfaction that comes from mastering a new skill - each new skill adding a new level of understanding to the process.
I still remember all of those pinxos in the Basque country.
The problem was, finally being at the point in my career where I felt comfortable enough in my understanding of that process, it was time to run a kitchen. But when that opportunity unexpectedly presented itself, I realized that I wouldn't feel fully confident in that role until I had a larger base of the second kind of knowledge on which to draw from. So I needed to get out, go to Morocco and Prague and Brazil, experience some new kinds of foods, flavor combinations and techniques and bring those back to help make any kitchen I run a slightly stronger and more interesting place to eat (and cook). So this, in a nutshell, is why I came on this trip. To be better at what I do.
I know that when we first designed this blog, Steph and I both set aside a section of the site under the title 'wandering education,' and it was my intent to write about the things I was learning about food. I have to say, it's hard enough to find time to write one blog post, let alone an entirely separate post just about food, so I'm sorry for anyone that was interested that I had to abandon that page so quickly. But rest assured, I have been keeping notes in a journal along the way, and with Steph's help, I've been keeping track of some of my favorites along the way. It's been fun. Often during the course of a meal I'll say something like, "do you think this is something that could work at Heirloom (the restaurant I used to work at in San Francisco)? What if we changed this around, added a little of that, made this component into a salad instead, and then made a little sauce out of this? Yeah, that would work, and it would be really good. I wonder what Matt would think about pairing with it?" Like I said, it's been fun, exciting and educational. Isn't that what all students hope their classes will be?
I know that when we first designed this blog, Steph and I both set aside a section of the site under the title 'wandering education,' and it was my intent to write about the things I was learning about food. I have to say, it's hard enough to find time to write one blog post, let alone an entirely separate post just about food, so I'm sorry for anyone that was interested that I had to abandon that page so quickly. But rest assured, I have been keeping notes in a journal along the way, and with Steph's help, I've been keeping track of some of my favorites along the way. It's been fun. Often during the course of a meal I'll say something like, "do you think this is something that could work at Heirloom (the restaurant I used to work at in San Francisco)? What if we changed this around, added a little of that, made this component into a salad instead, and then made a little sauce out of this? Yeah, that would work, and it would be really good. I wonder what Matt would think about pairing with it?" Like I said, it's been fun, exciting and educational. Isn't that what all students hope their classes will be?
best meal ever in Morocco.
Some places that we've been were a little more educational than others, much like that guy in the kitchen that you're certain isn't going to last more than a few months before he heads off to get a job at a record store. But I've taken as much information as I could, and I wanted to write a tiny bit on some of the highlights along the way (when have I ever been accused of writing a 'tiny' bit).
Morocco was one of the more disappointing places that we visited, and maybe because I had such high hopes for the food. I expected highly spiced couscous with braised lamb and harissa paste. I was looking forward to seeing the tagines (a traditional Moroccan clay pot), and tasting the difference that these pots can make (having never actually used one). Aside from one meal which was pretty amazing, the rest of the food we had in Morocco was generally bland. Though, the one meal we had (which I've already written about), will be one that I will try to adapt to Californian tastes at home. Chicken, onions, potatoes, oranges, peas and spices all cooked together in a tagine, and served alongside couscous and chicken broth. It doesn't sound all that exciting, but it was so perfectly done it was fantastic.
Morocco was one of the more disappointing places that we visited, and maybe because I had such high hopes for the food. I expected highly spiced couscous with braised lamb and harissa paste. I was looking forward to seeing the tagines (a traditional Moroccan clay pot), and tasting the difference that these pots can make (having never actually used one). Aside from one meal which was pretty amazing, the rest of the food we had in Morocco was generally bland. Though, the one meal we had (which I've already written about), will be one that I will try to adapt to Californian tastes at home. Chicken, onions, potatoes, oranges, peas and spices all cooked together in a tagine, and served alongside couscous and chicken broth. It doesn't sound all that exciting, but it was so perfectly done it was fantastic.
yum...smoked ham and condiments.
Somewhere that I hadn't expected to fall in love with the food but did was Prague. Prague is all about the charcuterie - roasted pork, smoked ham, sausages, dried and cured meats, homemade cheeses and surprisingly, pickled sausages and cheeses. I had never even heard of pickled cheese before. Surprising as it was, it paired perfectly with the light Czech-style pilsner that the city is known for. I have long admired the restaurants that create their own charcuterie (not terribly common in San Francisco, extremely common in Prague), and thought it could be great to try making some house-smoked meats, and hand-pulled cheeses (maybe even pickled) with fresh condiments like pickled mustard seeds and fresh grated horseradish.
so many choices and you can't go wrong with any of them.
A country that I did expect to have amazing food and it lived up to all expectations was Israel. I have always loved Israeli food - hummus, eggplant, tabouli salad, falafel and shawarma - and it was even better in the homeland. Everything in Israel is served with pickles and a salad, either a cucumber-tomato salad or a very lemony tabouli salad (basically bulgar and parsley), which makes the act of eating all of the small plates extra enjoyable. All of the flavors are distinct, separate and mix perfectly well together. It made me think, what if you made a salad out of perfectly fried falafel, fresh heirloom tomatoes, summer cucumbers, parsley and lemon, served it alongside a bed of smooth lemony hummus, added some grilled eggplant or chicken, then topped it with fried chickpeas? Wouldn't that be almost everything I loved about Israeli food on one plate? Maybe a drizzle of tahini and a sprinkle of chili pepper? My mouth waters just thinking about it.
this is rough work, but at least I'm learning.
South America has a food culture that I was/am most excited to explore. In Argentina there are empanadas and chimichurri, in Brazil there are pasteis, fruits I've never seen before and a strong African influence that I'm hoping to see more of as we work our way north. Empanadas and pasteis got me thinking about how much the world likes stuffed pockets. It seems like you can take almost anything and wrap it in a crispy dough, and people will be happy. In Argentina the pockets are baked, in Brazil they are deep-fried, elsewhere in the world they are boiled, pan-seared, served cold, hot or somewhere in-between, but the idea is always the same. The problem with serving something like that in a nice restaurant is that pockets are a bit…well…plebean. They're street food. Can those be translated to an upscale restaurant, or are they best left for the street venders? I'm interested in giving it a shot. Afterall, the French have done pretty well with wrapping things in a crust, calling it 'en croute,' and selling it to high society. Why not in California?
I've obviously skipped a lot. There were small things - the impossibly crisp fish and chips in Australia, the grilled ground meat served with fresh sheep's cheese and onions in Bosnia, braised lamb and potatoes cooked underground in New Zealand and everything else in-between. But this is what this trip has been about for me so far. Broadening my horizons, thinking of ways to twist those new ideas into usable prototypes for the type of restaurant I love in California, and planning ways to become better at my job. So far so good. One month left and I'm still learning. Next up? Northern Brazil and Mexico. My mouth is watering already.
-EC
I've obviously skipped a lot. There were small things - the impossibly crisp fish and chips in Australia, the grilled ground meat served with fresh sheep's cheese and onions in Bosnia, braised lamb and potatoes cooked underground in New Zealand and everything else in-between. But this is what this trip has been about for me so far. Broadening my horizons, thinking of ways to twist those new ideas into usable prototypes for the type of restaurant I love in California, and planning ways to become better at my job. So far so good. One month left and I'm still learning. Next up? Northern Brazil and Mexico. My mouth is watering already.
-EC
RSS Feed