Mi2Sweets – 2009

01/02: Reality check

You know that old axiom, “truth is stranger than fiction?” Well, perhaps. But “truth” isn’t always as entertaining or as palatable. I mean, does anyone really want to know how much that crazy fondant-laden wedding cake on Ace of Cakes actually costs? It just looks cool. Who wants to suffer sticker shock? That would be a serious downer. In the world of reality television, oftentimes it takes a little creative intervention (aka editing) to jack up the entertainment value, especially when it comes to “foodie” shows like Top Chef, Food Network Challenges, Hell’s Kitchen, etc.

For most people I guess it’s the thrill of the challenge/competition and the foibles of the participants that compels them to watch. For me, not so much. It would be easy to say that, as a food professional, I’ve seen it all before–the temper tantrums, the creative meltdowns, the colossal equipment failures, etc.–and it’s nothing new. But that’s really not it–though there is nothing like trying to fit an entire collapsed walk-in full of food into another one at already full capacity during a 100 degree heat wave (now that’s drama). Like everyone else, my heart still thunders and stomach lurches when I see a beautiful wedding cake collapse or slide off its stand, especially when I personally know how long it takes to create one of those masterpieces. It just pains me more to watch “culinary professionals” (or in the case of Hell’s Kitchen, wannabes) slugging it out in what looks more like a smack-talking foodie version of WWF than the original Iron Chef, which for all its theatrical flourishes, was still a competition focused skill and creativity. Sure the participants were definitely out to prove themselves, to earn some bragging rights–I am or I beat the Iron Chef–but they obviously wouldn’t have made it that far if they weren’t supremely gifted and loved their profession.

Given the cult of personality built up around this disturbing trend of the “next food network star” it’s not all that surprising to see more and more culinary professionals and novices step into the ring. In a bad economy, it can’t hurt to do a little self promotion, right? So what if there is a good chance you’re going to come off looking like a complete ass in the process. Even those individuals who “come off badly” still manage to enjoy a certain level fame, months, sometimes years after the fact–oh the joys of marathon weekends of cooking shows. Reality television shows by their very nature (and I use the term “reality” loosely) churn out “personalities”(and I use that term loosely too) faster than McDonald cranks out McNuggets. Heidi Montag –need I say more? I’m not suggesting that everyone who participates in these “reality” food shows is willing to trade their self-respect for their 15 mins. of fame–and potential fortune. Some people are genuinely passionate about their craft and it shows through in their food. Though I think that it would be naive for anyone to assume that some part of themselves is not going to be compromised in the “editing” process. An entire drama can be built around a five second seemingly innocent sound bite. Hell, just look at the teaser ads!

To be sure, we’ve definitely moved way beyond the often hilariously simple production values of Julia Child and “The French Chef”–and that’s a shame. As many Julia devotees would agree, what made her so much fun to watch was not only her big personality–she made mouth-breathing endearing–but her lust for food, boundless energy and fascination with the art of cooking. No pithy sound bites were ever necessary to convey theatricality of Julia. So she dropped an omelet–but she made damn sure it was a tasty omelet. Wonder why Tom Colichio is always complaining about the chefs not tasting their food before presenting it or not able to master the “basics” like shucking a clam?

In the process of reviewing applications for culinary scholarships, a colleague of mine bemoaned the fact that a disproportionate number of applicants stated their ultimate professional goal was to be the next t.v. star chef and have their own show. Needless to say, those applications ended up in the trash can. I can see poor Julia rolling in her grave.

I’m well aware of the fact that, from a financial standpoint, the entertainment value of presenting only a “bite” of truth outweighs all other considerations. I’m just not convinced that these reality food shows do anything more than promote the networks themselves–because from where I’m sitting, it’s not doing all that much to elevate our profession or preserve its integrity.

Posted January 2nd, 2009 | Leave a Comment

01/02: Taking it the streets

There is a small but passionate revolution taking place in the streets of San Francisco of late. An enterprising scrappy band of renegade food cart vendors, fed up with the city’s archaic, and many would say (including myself) blatantly anti-small business policies, have taken it upon themselves to leap frog over the red tape and set up “shop” wherever they can–“tweeting” to an evergrowing crowd of followers like a bunch of culinary pied pipers. It reminds me of a scene from the movie “Nick and Nora” where the characters spend the whole night traipsing through NYC following cryptic text messages that eventually lead them to the impromptu concert by their favorite band held at a mystery rooftop. My friend Dawn has been hot on the trail of the “basket pie” guy for weeks now, obsessively browsing Twitter in hopes of finally nabbing one of the prized pies he apparently sells off the back of his bike.

This says alot about not only the foodie culture in SF, but the sorry state of our local bureaucracy that has precipitated such subtrefruge. The natives know good a thing when they see (and taste) it. We will go out of our way to get it–especially when there’s a great buzz. However, if you are on the producing/selling end of the equation, good luck trying to set up a “legitimate” business–one that actually makes enough money to pay the bills. Take one look at the laundry list of required fees and city permits and you’ll understand why there is no real “street food” culture in SF, not like there is in other major cities like NYC, and why street food entrepreneurs, like the “Creme Brulee Cart” guy, have to scurry about town under a cloak of anonymity.

Okay, I do understand the concept of health codes, especially as they relate to food preparation. I did get my certification in Food Safety. However, I think there should be a way for city the support street food vendors without making them pay through the nose for the privilege of doing it legally. And really, most people are well aware of the difference between buying food from a “brick and mortar” establishment and a food cart. Yeah, you are, to some extent, eating at your own risk, but then that’s also the fun part about it.

I’ve been thinking about my favorite foodie experiences and inevitably they have been in places where there is a vibrant, thriving street food culture, whether it be a food cart/stand or an outdoor market. My top five:

1) Hong Kong – The variety is astounding–everything from squid or chicken gizzards on skewers to egg custard tarts. On one trip I went on the hunt for the perfect egg custard tart and found it at the tiny stand off some side street for 25 cents.

2) London – Burrough Market is still one of my all-time favorite outdoor markets. Hate to say it, but our Ferry Plaza Market isn’t even in the same league. Again the variety of products both raw and prepared is stellar. I still dream about the freshly griddled pork tenderloin and apple sandwich.

3) Paris – It really doesn’t matter where in Paris–though St. Germaine is my favorite part of town–but there’s nothing like a hot, tender, crispy-edged, freshly made crepe slathered in Nutella from a street vendor.

4) Madrid – My Spanish sucks, but that didn’t matter. I just pointed and ate, especially the churros, fried in a gigantic vat of oil at a stand in the middle of the park, served with the thickest hot chocolate I’ve ever had.

5) Seattle – Pike’s Place Market was only the beginning. The crappy weather didn’t dampen my enthusiasm for street food.

There are alot of passionate cooks out there just waiting to be discovered (and I don’t mean arrested or fined). The city government needs to wake up and smell the potential–and embrace what they have to offer. Then, maybe SF can truly be called a foodie town.

Posted January 2nd, 2009 | 1 comment

01/01: The Hostess

Her cooking was at times inconsistent–the stew a little bland, the Chinese baked tapioca with red bean paste on the burnt side. But that really didn’t matter. My Aunt Christina knew how to entertain. She was a hostess with style, putting out her best silver and china to make even our hodge podge family potluck dinners look elegant, the first one to display the obligatory black olives, ranch dressing, carrot and celery sticks in a flight of fancy crudite bowls. My aunt’s been battling terminal cancer for a while now and the thought of her never hosting another family gathering has made me appreciate her incomparable skills even more.

We are, like alot of large Chinese families, a loud boisterous bunch spread out across the Bay Area and beyond. It takes more than a few phone calls, emails, cajoling and arm-twisting to coordinate a party these days. Not so when I was young. We used to get together every few weeks for dinner, sometimes a dim sum lunch. Of course back then both of my grandparents were alive and they were the ones who anchored us to certain family traditions, like a dozen rounds of mah jong before dinner or making steamed dumplings, which was always a group effort for a family our size. My mom and her siblings would take turns hosting, but it was my Aunt Christina always managed to make it look so effortless and polished, as opposed to the comfortable chaos that characterized our house.

Hands down, mom was, in her prime, a better cook. However, Aunt Christina knew how to make it look good. Beverages and ice were always set out along with assorted glassware and crystal bowls of potato chips and other snacks. At our house, we just expected everyone to get their own glass from the cupboard and help themselves to what was in the frig. or bust into the bags of chips and crackers.

As time went on, with my grandfrather gone and my grandmother getting frailer by the year, family parties were few and far between, taking place mainly on Chinese New Year, Thanksgiving and Christmas. I became the designated chef on Thanksgiving and Christmas–apparently my having a culinary degree negated everybody else’s ability to cook a turkey or rack of lamb. My aunt was thrilled to offer up her home for the festivities, especially when she could pull out all her good china, silver platters and serving utensils. Just like it was when I little, the party was a stylish affair.

More than anything, my aunt knew the value of making people feel comfortable and taken care of. Her desire to maintain a semblance of family tradition–she still set up the mah jong table–was the glue that keep us together. I’m deeply saddened at the inevitable lost of this loving family anchor.

Posted January 1st, 2009 | Leave a Comment

Sweet Blog Archive: January, 2009

01/02: Reality check

01/02: Taking it the streets

01/01: The Hostess