chadzilla

vegetarian jumping the wall

"The chef hates vegetarians."

This was actually written on a recent comment card that we received from a group member.  Although pondering what would cause one of our guests to leave such a remark, we had to be honest with ourselves and also ponder its truthfulness.  Do we hate vegetarians?  No, we don't... but let me give the great majority of you a little advice.  Without going off Richard Blais style, I want to offer a little suggestion to most of you that would make yours and our world a much easier place to live in.

There is a Chinese dish (Fukien in origin) called 'Buddha jumping the wall.'  The story behind it is that a group of students in the Qing Dynasty embarked on a journey.  All of their foods (an assortment of eclectic ingredients) were placed into a clay jar.  Upon setting up camp for the evening, one of the scholars began heating up the items together along with some soup broth that was poured over.  The story goes on to say that the aromas from the selection of exotic meats was so enticing, that the scent wafted over the walls of a local Buddhist monastery.  Shortly afterwards, one of the monks (who had dedicated his life to vegetarianism) could no longer contain his hunger for the food and jumped over the monastery wall to beg for a bite of the dish.

Although this is only a story to lend a cute name to a Chinese menu item, there is a bit of truth here about the fickleness of a lot of vegetarians.  It also points out an amusing truth about the omnivorous nature of man and our desire to occasionally take things to the extreme.  In concept, the Chinese accidental creation is no different from, say... the DB burger.  It incorporates a list of exotic expensive ingredients and presents a manifestation of them in the form of a humble hamburger... the American everyman's meal.  It is the modern western version of 'buddha jumping his wall.'  What makes the monk catapult himself from his veggie happy world?  Is it the primal instinct within him responding to the smell of meat?  I believe yes.  We, as humans, are omnivores and there is no biological proof to contradict that.  To not eat meat, or at least salivate over it, is not natural.  But... I promised I wouldn't go off on a tangent, so let's revert to the intended gripe.

It would make things a world easier on your chef (and much more pleasant for yourself) if every vegetarian would take the time to accurately survey just exactly what 'diet' they are on.  If you don't follow what I am saying here, I am referring to the many walls that the vegetarian community creates and jumps over and over everyday.  Are you vegetarian?  Are you sure?  There have been countless times that a customer has walked into a restaurant and stated, "I am a vegetarian."  Seems reasonable enough, doesn't it?  The chef then jumps behind the line and puts together a nice plate for the 'special' guest and sends it out.  Then comes the weird part... the plate comes back, and the waiter says, "they want to know if you have any fish..." or shrimp... or lobster... or maybe even chicken breast.  Huh?!?  This is what I am talking about.  If you are vegetarian, then that's great... as long as you eat only vegetables with an occasional bit of egg or dairy product.  If you do not eat the last 2 categories, then you are vegan... and if you are vegan, then do you eat honey?  It is an animal product, you know... some vegans won't touch it.  Stop jumping over the fish wall, or the lobster wall.  Just let us know.  That's all we ask.  If you eat fish or other animals, then you are not a vegetarian no matter how much you like to say the words.

This rant by no means has anything to do with food allergies, which we take very seriously.  Sure, I do agree with Jeffrey Steingarten that most people who claim to be allergic to certain foods are not.  I agree with his point that Americans have a growing tendency to fear the foods they eat... when you look at what the FDA considers as safe farming practice, it's probably not an ill-founded sentiment.  Aside from that, if you say you have a food allergy, we will fully respect that and cater to your avoidances.  I, personally, take this subject very seriously... nobody dies on my watch!

The overall point here is to know what you are, say what you are, and everybody's happy.  The chef understands the definition of the word you use, and will follow the guidelines dictated by the meaning.  If at all possible (especially at a banquet), let the staff know your restrictions ahead of time.  This will decrease your chances of getting a boring last-minute bowl of veggie toss pasta (the vegetarian's disdain).  The chef does have his food and labor cost to consider, and although he wants to be prepared for the eventuality of an unannounced vegetarian being seated among the guests, he doesn't like to waste time making plates of food that no one will eat.  I'm sure that most of you don't like to see this happen while there are starving children in the world.

We do not hate vegetarians.  A couple of weeks ago, we received a call from a gentleman who requested a 3 course vegan meal for 20 people.  No problem.  Even when he requested to come in the night before for a tasting of the dishes, I consented.  Even when he didn't show up for the tasting, and I had wasted labor and food product preparing for it, I didn't mind... heck, I got one great improvised recipe for smoked fingerling potato salad out of the deal... I'm sure that will go great one day on a nice beef or pork dish, and some true omnivore will greatly appreciate it.

hitting the ground running

There hasn't been much time for anything since our vacation ended, and I'm back in Miami.  Business has been good, and the hotel is gearing up for an incredible busy season (it actually seems that it's already begun.)  I have a few posting projects in mind (as my mind is all over the place now) that I want to keep mentally dedicated to.

First of all, I would like to thank Chef K for leaving me a taste of this Rivesaltes 19 freakin' 45 vin doux.  It was left behind for us by an eccentric client... a man with great taste in wine and food and the pocketbook to back it up.  He is also the head of the local Chaine des Rotisseurs here.  A couple of months ago, we were priveleged to put a great menu together for the group (we staged the plating in the ballroom itself separated from the guests by large sheer drops of cloth extending down from the ceiling... an incredible night).  I poured myself only a few sips, and admired it almost more for its great hue than its incredible flavor.  It was like cold sweet fire on the tongue.  Although I have fallen out of my wine fascination in the last couple of years (I'm more of a beer afficionado these days), it's hard not to appreciate something as complex as this muscat.

Aside from that, we have been throwing some fun things together.  We put on a reception for a group of meeting planners outside near the beach.  Some of the stations were quite interesting.  We had a 'fishbowl' fondue set-up displayed (obviously in fish bowls) entirely over glass.  Large crostinis and spicy bread sticks completed the look.  We also had the opportunity to try out one of our ideas that we plan to do for an upcoming superbowl event here in Miami (I'm sure that New Orleans will be here for that event).  The basic idea is to take our melon confit (this time made with a Powerade syrup), and inject a balsamic-powerade syrup into the melon while also using it as a skewer for fresh mozzarella and thin prosciutto.  A small chiffonade of basil helps to push the flavors.  The idea is to pick the whole thing up with the pipette and eat it while squeezing the complimenting sauce into the mouth.  The concept that we have here for the superbowl is to turn the stacked skewer into a 'first-down' marker (a stretch maybe... but we always like to make some kind of connection with the event instead of just throwing random food at people).

Another fun concept I've been able to recently pull off is bounced off of the 'hot ice cream' that a lot of forward thinking chefs are doing now.  It's created by taking advantage of the properties of methyl cellulose.  Since the MC reacts differently from other gelling agents (gelling at high temperatures, and softening at lower ones) we can create foods that 'melt' as they cool down.  This example is a soy honey glazed duck served with a warm sweet & sour creme brulee.  The soy honey glaze is also brushed onto the plate.  To make the custard, a bit of the base cream is scooped out and dropped into very warm water allowing it to completely firm up.  Once it is brought to temperature, we sprinkle it with sugar and torch it.  The flavor is that of sweet chile and tamarind in a cream base.  This is one of the featured appetizers on our latest Miami Spice menu.  I promise to post the recipe as soon as I tweak it a little (and also get a better picture of it).

saints alive!!!

This post has nothing to do with food or food adventures.  It's just to say that the New Orleans Saints have gone 3 - 0 tonight with their Monday night football win over Atlanta (23 - 3).  There is a lot of talk about charity and that the Saints were allowed this win.  Just get over it.  Saints are on the map.  We have a long road ahead, but it's time to say, 'I believe."  Bless you, boys.  It's a proud day to be a Saints fan.

mallard bass... mismatched proteins??

Chefs use their imaginative taste buds everyday in the creation of menus and dishes.  We learn through experience what flavors are relative, and what other flavors or textures would blend nicely before we ever pick up a pan to physically create it.  This is just part of the job.  There have been certain culinary 'givens' that have stood faithfully by the chef throughout the past 3 decades or so of culinary trends.

Last night, however, I was reminded that the new culinary ground may not obey the laws that have so far guided us.  As molecular gastronomy and further venturing in food science gain popularity, the combinations we create live within the boundaries of an entirely new paradigm. 

We had a group of 15 VIP's coming in for a menu experience.  It was nothing fantastic, just items pulled off of the menu along with some family style appetizers.  The table host had dined and trusted us several times before to help woo his clients, and we always throw out an extra course for them... usually something we are playing around with at the moment.  While trying to show one of our cooks how to use the transglutanimase, I fused some duck skin that was a by-product of banquet prep onto some small pieces of seabass from his mise en place.  This was relatively simple, and an extension of the first notion from Alex and Aki's chicken skin fused to fish.  We had done the same thing before with seabass and chicken skin and the result was great.  This time proved to be different.  After the fish was seared and the skin crisped on each piece,  they were plated up and sent out over some basmati and thai curry sauce.  Only after the plates went out did I pick up a left-over piece to try.  That's when I noticed the smell.  Although I knew for a fact that this fish was fresh from the batch I pulled it from, there was a distinctive and unpleasant smell.  I only first noticed it when I put it up towards my mouth.  Actually, I tasted it also since it had already gone out and didn't notice any trace of off-flavor... just the smell.  In the following minutes, the smell intensified.  It even reached the point where the front house manager had to spray down the back server area and the cook took a bit of ribbing from the other guys about sending out a 'funky' product.

Although I had no worries about 'poisoning' anyone, I was definitely worried about the guests' experience.  I sweated it through the following couple of courses, and constantly asked the restaurant manager what the word was out there.  Although paranoia worked it's anguish on me, the guests ended up being extremely happy with everything.  When I visited the table at the end of the meal, I was even greeted with an embarrassing round of applause.  Some guest complimented on the 'special course' as a highlight of the meal.  How could they not notice?

Aside from all that, my mind was also working in another direction.  What could cause that smell?  Was it some sort of reaction between duck fat and bass?  I debated if it was accented by the cryovac process that we use to hold the proteins while they fuse.  Sometimes vacuum-packed items have a foul smell when opened although the product is still safe.  Just what exactly made that foul odor?

It just reminded me of the above stated fact... as we tread new ground, we may not be able to fully rely on the old rules that have been faithful to us.  I also believe that these occurences need to be explored further and communicated.  It took years to forge the base rules that we have as a foundation to all things culinary.  The world has changed a lot.  The internet and the community of open-minded chefs may be one of the greatest assets we have now.  We need the forums to post and discuss the new things we try.  Failure is just as important as success.  While discovering the rules of the new paradigm, it is equally important that we share them. 

'for the greater good'

family meals at bridge cafe

I've already tried to publish this posting twice and lost the draft due to timed out servers and what-not.  Perhaps it is not meant to be, but it's an acknowledgement I must put forward.

We are back from Taiwan, and after a long trip full of problems and a return to work in the kitchen, I can reflect on my food experiences in retrospect.  There have been some good and not so good times eating in Taiwan.  I have mentioned the street food and a few restaurant experiences that were highlights along the way.  There are many more postings that I could have written from the journey, but internet access and time were not always available.  It's now time to acknowledge the best food that I have had the chance to eat... that is the family meal at the Bridge Cafe in Taichung City (Ming's family's restaurant).

The Bridge Cafe is the bottom two floors in the family's five story house.  The top three floors are reserved for the family bedrooms, bathrooms, storage, and a top story temple open to a balcony.  Two times a day, everyday, a family meal is prepared by Ming's mother and the restaurant cook (the only non-family employee here).  We pull two tables together, line them with old newspaper, walk across the street to get ah gong and ah ma (grandfather and grandmother), and the food comes out.

There are always at least six dishes not including rice and a soup dish.  I have dug into some really cool things like dumplings, fatty pork, clams and clam soup, drunken chicken (that almost made me drunken), tofu skin, corn soup, fried cod fish, sea bream jowls, stir-fried greens, squid prepared various ways, chinese sausage with garlic, tofu mixed with everything, san pei chicken, pig blood cake, daikon radish soup, mung bean noodles, and much more... I cannot remember everything although this is the third time I try to compile the list.  If not for the language barrier between the family and myself, I would have loved to learn some of these techniques.  I keep telling Ming that an English language cookbook of Taiwanese cuisine is overdue on the market (and non-existent because I've searched the internet as well as many bookstores in Taiwan).  She thinks it's because Taiwanese cuisine borrows a lot from other cultures like Chinese regional and Japanese as well as Taiwan aboriginal.  This may be true, but the same can be said of American cuisine.  Taiwan food has evolved into its own and has its own attitude and style.  The street food itself (of which I did find a book on completely in Chinese) warrants a cookbook.  Perhaps I can make it my duty to publish various postings focused on typical Taiwanese dishes.

Another interesting part of Taiwanese culture is the barbeque.  It's true that almost every culture has its version of barbeque, but the Taiwanese ritual stands more of a communal venture than a culinary one.  No one owns a large size pit as we strive for in America.  There are only cheap small pits placed around the seating area fueled by wood charcoal.  More time and effort is put into the preparation of the items to be grilled than the actual grilling itself... this seems to be secondary.  There are also no side dishes like our potato salads and corn bread.  Everything is impaled on skewers and goes onto the grill.  During our venture, we had split squid, sliced pork, small sweet chinese sausages, corn, coba (or water bamboo), large beautiful mushrooms, clams wrapped in foil to keep the juices, and combination skewers of pineapple and other meats.  All food gets brushed at the end with a typical Taiwanese barbeque sauce.  This is not, however, the Taiwanese sauce such as Bull's Head brand that is used in stir-fried items.  It's a bit different and less oily.  The flavors are different.  Although it is store-bought, I do not know what to call it.  Everyone participates in the grilling.  There is no 'barbeque master' as we establish in America... someone to man the grill and don the apron with nostalgia as they rattle off about smoking techniques and the differences between rubs and mops.  It is in this sense that I say Taiwanese barbeque is not a culinary venture.  I watched, with restraint, as pieces of pork and squid were flipped and turned every 2 seconds (literally), and some cooked to the point of being jerky.  I do not know Mandarin for "stop flipping that damn meat!"  The sauce helps here.  The whole barbeque is, though, quite a communal undertaking and its virtue lies within accepting this fact.  While watching, I was reminded of the Asian food spirit of hot pots or Japanese table grills where the whole family cooks and eats at the same time.  There is something primally satisfying in this.  It's as fulfilling as the family meal itself.  Humans have gathered around and cooked and ate around the ceremonial flame since we evolved to the point of transcending the animal kingdom through our civility and began to cook our food over heat.  This is the subliminal elevation of the barbeque.

Although the barbeque is now primarily reserved for the younger half of the family, it was still in the whole family spirit.  It was culture.  I watched as the older generation sat inside drinking coffee and tea while the younger sect cut up outside and felt their independence around their own flame.  I realized that although I was on the other side of the world, things were not that different from where I grew up.  It's strange how we can relate to something so deeply that on the surface seems so alien.

katsuo & mambo

This past week in Taiwan, we spent a few days in Hualien on the eastern coast.  The place was extremely relaxing, and despite the rains that have fallen everyday since we've been here, we managed to do and see quite a bit... and all on the back of a scooter.

One of our first chosen spots to see was the Chihsing Tan Katsuo museum.  The old building here was originally a katsuo factory set up by the Japanese.  Although I'd eaten bonito flakes as a topping and as a component of dashi, I'd never really given much thought to the process involved in making it.  My original presumption was that it was merely a dried and maybe salted fish.  The actual procedure in producing it, however, involves butchering the fish, poaching it in plain water, smoking it once at a moderate temperature, then letting it smoke again at a much lower temperature for a much longer period of time.  This is the way that katsuo was produced in the factory.  Locally caught fish like mackerel, bonito, and mambo (or sunfish) among many others are used.  Unfortunately all of the information inside was in Chinese and no pictures were allowed... though we were allowed to shave our own katsuo for a small fee of $100NT.  The whole process of making katsuo is amazing and natural since it contains no added ingredients except the blanching water and smoke vapors.  The building was 3 or 4 stories high with floors of metal bars to allow smoke to penetrate through the different levels.  The wood beams and walls were blackened from years of smoke, although the smell was quite nice and would make a great drinking bar or cigar lounge.

One of the more interesting fish used here is the sunfish, or mambo fish, as the locals call it.  It is a very large round disk shaped fish with identically large dorsal and pectoral fins and a funny short lyre shaped tail.  On our last day in Hualien, we ate lunch at a restaurant devoted entirely to this fish.  There were 10 courses in all on our menu and each one from appetizer to dessert utilized the sunfish in some fashion.  In fact, we almost missed our train back to Taichung because of the length of the meal... although it was literally thrown at us plate after plate (the Taiwanese apparently do not have a sense of course succession in a meal and believe that you should receive all of your plates within minutes of each other).  So, come with me now.  Imagine an Iron Chef battle where the secret ingredient is... Sunfish!  A la cuisine!  Challenger chef, what dishes have you brought before us to be judged...

We start out with a sashimi variety, then move on to the sunfish konyaku seen here on the left.  It utilizes the fish's gelatin to mimick Japanese konyaku noodles.  Proceding courses include sunfish jowls, sunfish fin (similar to shark fin), sunfish intestine stewed with vegetables, then clam soup with sunfish connective tissue and bone marrow.  Afterwards we have champion rice cooked with sunfish cartilage, swallow's nest with sunfish cartilage, fruit juice with sunfish cartilage jelly, and finally, ice cream cake wrapped in sunfish cartilage (seen here on the right).  Now, on that very day on the east coast of Taiwan, I had a realization.  There really is only so much fish cartilage that the average person can and should eat in a day, and at that point I was well past the point.  It was a question that I have never given a whole lot of thought to before.  In a sequence of thoughts that day, I was struck with another interesting question... where was the actual sunfish meat?  The fish itself is huge.  Surely, there must be an incredible amount of fish fillet that one of these things yields.  Couldn't we have at least one course of fried fillet of sunfish or even sunfish and chips or tempura sunfish?  Why didn't we get the good stuff?  I made me wonder if in fact the Japanese's demand for sunfish flesh for making katsuo back in the day used the meat itself up and left the locals here with piles of sunfish scraps to consume.  If this theory were true, then maybe all of this 'cuisine' was a sort of soul food developed by Taiwanese here just as using pig scraps were used by African Americans as a survival technique.  Weren't the sunfish intestines that I ate actually the Taiwanese's answer to sunfish chitlins.  Whatever the answer to this question, it can't hide the sad fact that most of the sunfish manifestations that we ate that day truly were horrible.  If it is soul food, then it should have flavor and attitude.  It should make a culinary statement.  Instead, it was just a bunch of bland fish cartilage.

Chalk it all up to an experience never again to be repeated by this eater.

taiwan photo album

My insomnia and jet lag have allowed me to organize some photos while still on vacation in Taiwan.  I have been fortunate to have internet access periodically to post some of these.  While my wife is sleeping, I have set-up a Taiwan photo album here.  It can also be accessed under the photo album listing on the right column of the Chadzila Blog.  These will be updated and added onto when the opportunity presents itself.  Please check it out.  It is in chronological order.  Although my postings have been all food related, the photo album tracks the journey as well.

tradition and adaptation

While hanging out with Chun-Chieh in Taipei, he was extremely hospitable and took us to eat traditional Taiwanese beef noodles.  It's true that every country in the Far East makes noodles of some kind or another, so this is the Taiwanese version.  The beef is cubed from a tender cut and served with vermicelli style noodles (or similar to ramen but white) and a richer broth than the Vietnamese and Japanese dishes.  I ordered mine with beef tendon also.  The place we went to was called and it is one of the most popular places to eat noodles in Taipei.  There was a 20 to 30 minute wait outside to have a seat, and then you must share your table with other guests.  The shop owner was a confused old man who couldn't remember who was in line first or who ordered what, but it was extremely well worth it.  You also must eat quickly because they clear your bowls and show you the door before you can even finish... no problem though, because these noodles were incredible.  We also had some side dishes here of long bean, boiled peanuts, sweet pickled radish, and brown tofu.  The most delicious thing here though, is the thousand year egg with tofu.  This is another example of perfect balance.  The egg had the most rounded flavor like crab fat or monkfish liver or foie gras... you get the picture.  It is hard to fathom that flavor like this can be extruded from a simple duck egg.  I will try to find a recipe for this.  Unlike other thousand year eggs I had eaten before, the white part of this one looked like transluscent amber jelly, and the yolk had an inner consistency of under-cooked lobster roe.  It was all in perfect harmony with the delicate soft homemade tofu.

At the end of the day in Taipei, we ate the Japanese fast food chain version of the American burger... I'm talking about MosBurger.  I don't know why, but it's something I really wanted to do.  I am not a fast food fan, but just to say that I had this thing was important for some reason.  My burger was on a rice bun and packed with yakitori pork.  It's all about half the size of your fist.  Not bad, but a lot of my burger ended up on the floor due to my American ignorance.  You cannot just pick this thing up and eat it... you must keep it in the foam paper packaging and slowly peel it back as you take bites.  Mos excellent!

a difference of philosophies

It’s interesting that the two articles of reading material I brought on my travels here to Taiwan are The Omnivore’s Dilemma by Michael Pollan and a compilation of food additive descriptions emailed to me by a sales representative of the Dow Chemical Company.  The first, which I was able to take a nice bite into on the painfully long flight, raises questions about our connection with the earth through the foods we eat, our status in the grand food chain, and how our modern choices may possibly affect this status in the near and far-off future.  The second, well… is the epitome of man’s desire and ability to remove himself from nature to nourish his body.

These polar extremes in food theory recurred again yesterday and this morning.  I had finally met up with my old friend, Chun-Chieh, whom I had originally made the acquaintance of in New Orleans years ago when he interned in the hotel kitchen where I was a sous chef.  Now, he has informed me that he now works for a Taiwan based company called Ever Pure that manufactures and wholesales every food additive in the molecular gastronomist’s arsenal.  After painfully trying to acquire some of these in Miami through countless internet searches and phone calls to industrial food manufacturer sales reps, I had finally found a personal source for the ingredients I want to play with… and with the information to tell me how to use them.  Incredible!  While he took Ming and I around the outlying areas of Taipei, we talked about how we could mutually benefit from our current career paths.  I explained the molecular food movement to him, and told him of the Spanish, European, and American chefs who were utilizing the very products he sold to create the fine dining cuisine of a new generation.

The second side of the coin was evidenced when Ming and I accompanied her mother this morning to an outdoor food market in Taichung.  We arrived on scooters along with her 4 year old niece and I experienced the crowded yet fluid chaos that is a Taiwanese food market.  There were hundreds of scooters parked everywhere and booths set-up selling every ingredient that I could imagine and an endless number of ingredients that I had never imagined.  I saw whole raw chickens so huge and fresh in different varieties (notice the black chicken) that I felt incredibly saddened from the factory farmed hormone-injected poultry I was raised on.  There was squid of all sizes, sea cucumber in 3 varieties, clams, octopus, different shrimp species, fish jowls, countless variations on the humble soy bean, herbal jellies, vegetables, fruits, roots, leaves, stems, nuts, fiddle-head fern, beans, seeds, kimchee, boiled peanuts, pork shumai, pig ears, pig blood cake, and a stand where two women took a glutinous dough of wheat flour, water, and oil and spread them out on sizzling hot griddles to make springroll wrappers with incredible skill. There was constant motion.  This is when I realized why the simple fried chicken I had in Taipei was so good… it’s not the technique so much as it was the ingredients.  The society here exists to promote wholesomeness in food.  There are no big grocery stores, no super Walmarts or Targets.  The question that Michael Pollan raises about what to have for dinner or where does my dinner really come from seems to elicit a much simpler answer.

The paradox of these two worlds existing together in perfect harmony is mind-blowing.  There is a balance here of most things.  It can be seen not only in food, but in everything.  Taiwan also is currently the home to the tallest building in the world, Taipei 101 tower.  Although an eyesore to many here, it is designed to pay homage to the ancient pagoda style of architecture while also portraying a sleek modern look.  It is on this island of simpleness that we also see some of the world’s greatest technological products being created.  It is a focus on the micro instead of the macro.

Where did we go wrong on our end of the food chain?  It’s a sacrifice either way from either side.  I just can’t help but feel that I am really on the opposite end of the world, or the other side of the coin.  To some people, these questions may seem trite, but to a chef, it seems that the purpose of my career in the United States is to take items removed from nature and dress them up for public consumption.  Somewhere between food from the earth and Dow chemical company lies the tight-rope that I want to walk.  Now I know why Ferran Adria feels such passion for Iberico ham.

taipei second day

Our second day in the capitol city was another trek in all directions.  We started out in Starbucks again (it was conveniently located at the bottom of the building that our hotel is in... along with some stores, a night club, and a gentlemen's club which alotted for a strange group of characters wandering in and out all day).  At least it was comforting to see westerners drinking coffee every morning.  Today was special because the choice music for the Starbucks stereo was a compilation of New Orleans artists.

We decided to do something next that everyone who comes to Taiwan should do... go shopping for electronics.  It's common to see tiny booth malls of every modern computer and electronic component on the market.  Taiwan is a huge global producer of computer parts.  It's an interesting contrast to the old world background in which it is set.  Today, I bought the memory card reader... hard to choose among the incredible variety of these available (around US$8) and I also purchased an MP3 player.  We are cursed by the marketing success of ipod in the US.  Here, I had my choice of players that could do any combination of things.  I settled on a 1GB Apacer that is smaller than the 512MB ipod shuffle, and can do much more including a slot for a 2GB expansion memory MMS card in case I need to have more memory... all for US$60.

Ok, enough of that... I'm supposed to be here for the food like Alton Brown.

Pei-Jean met up with us for lunch, and we went to a restaurant called Mitsui.  It is part of the Japanese tradition in Taiwan and as incredible as it was, is not even considered the best Japanese restaurant here.  For around $30 USD each, we had the seven course meal showcasing the different traditional cooking techniques in Japanese cuisine.  Now, I've never had the great experience of eating at Nobu or Morimoto in the US so I really treasure the food we had on this day.  It was incredible.  To see the courses in order, view my Mitsui photo album here.

We then took the MRT to the National Palace museum to witness Chinese art through history.  Taiwan has some very nice national treasures thanks to Chiang Kai Shek and his party for taking them here when China succumbed to communism.  Again, this blog is about food so here's the tie-in... with all of the 650,000 pieces of art detailing the most magnificent pieces of China's dynasties, the most famous piece of all is a cabbage carved out of jade.  This is the largest collection of Chinese art in the world and the most famous piece is a cabbage!  What a great culture.  Actually, the mastery of the cabbage is due to the artist's genius in using a large piece of jade and incorporating the white and green parts to the anatomy of a Chinese cabbage.  The vegetable is a symbol of purity and innocence and features 2 grasshoppers on it for fertility.  Another great work housed in the same case as the cabbage is a piece of fatty pork carved from jasper which also uses the natural colorations of the rock to portray the striation of a pork slab.  Unfortunately, no pictures were allowed and I could not find any internet reference to the pork.  It is still an interesting note that cabbage and pork are showcased among the most prized pieces of Chinese art.

We ended the day later on at the Snake Alley night market.  Although this could have been a cool posting about eating snake, it's not going to be.  You see, this place is what it is... a tourist rip-off spot.  Being from New Orleans, I know street scammers when I see them and I can recognize a cheese act.  These snake handlers do not allow photos, and they just stand there milking the crowd to make a buck.  Pure cheese.  So, cheee is food... isn't it, so it has a place here.

There is one interesting food note that I can make here besides the lunch at Mitsui.  Pei-Jean took us out to eat at a 'western-style' restaurant for dinner.  Eating western food in Taiwan is a strange culinary thing.  It is another culture's interpretation of your food.  So, here it is... a salad with corn flakes and raisins... talk about some creative gastronomy.