hello

We've all had them, that certain craving ,satisfied only when a perfectly cooked plate of mouth watering nirvana appears.Being a red blooded sworn carnivore, lust reared its ugly head in the form of ,you guessed it , a ribeye. It was one of those moments, where you can taste it, smell it, in your minds eye visualize it. Nothing else will do or satisfy. Cooked over high heat, seasoned, fatty sizzling goodness. This is how the day began.

Hawaii, beyond the tourist hype, good food can be in short supply. Most of the time it is left up to you to create those meals one truly remembers. Those resort eateries ,while the menus sound wonderful at best leave one with an emptiness, a hollowness, missing that certain something. Caused no doubt by meals prepared by, its my job,union scale cooks, who by virtue of seniority have risen to this level like the coagulated scum on a stock. They have no point of reference for flavor or technique besides the hotels teachings. These days everyone wants to be a Chef.

This was the discussion being had on the way to Kona one day. Sansei had opened a new appendage in Waikoloa. After eating there several times, initial impressions of pretty good wore off. Consistancy is much sought after, especially when its good, you keep your fingers crossed that it will only get better. With its menu of pacific fusion and sushi, Sansei had much to offer. Sliding into mediocrity like the drop on coaster didn't take long. Sushi rice to dry, Ahi carpaccio preplated the fish stuck to the dish, soggy Tempura, etc. Someone is asleep at the wheel.

The vog was pretty thick that day. We only wish that if Tony Bourdain ever comes back that he checks out the real Hawaii and skips most of what he did previously. A good , really good PR person is most responsible for the fame enjoyed by most of those guys he had diner with. Why do they think shoveling any kind of crap ,just to see if he'll eat it is so fun? It seems like a retarded ritual around here. New guy comes and makes friends, locals bust out the the most disgusting piles of shit for them to gag on , while everyone laughs. Isn't that good? It's the uterus of a syphilitic mutton adobo style ummmm Dis is local, brah. And if you want to hang with us , enjoy. Around here choices are limited. What is considered good ,really good is just what has survived over the years, kind of like being the tallest midget in your class. Fucking frustrating.

There are of course lots of Thai seemingly on every corner, even a Thai chain. How wierd for a cuisine built on ala minute to find oneself looking down on anonymous steaming pans that brings tears of pain to anyone concerned of what slides down their gullet.There are Chinese restaurants, not to be confused with food from China or even that from the mainland. Totally unique in its culinary perspective, not often does one see fries on the menu save for here. Although years ago a small place , very small, a kiosk in the lobby of a rundown hotel in Hilo there appeared a ray of hope. More accuratly I would say supernova of culinary pleasure, now long gone but the flavors encountered have stayed for twenty years or longer. These were people of no fear. Recent immigres from ROC they command respect for the pureness of flavor presented. Why has this ancient cuisine been reduced to orange chicken, and beef brocolli? Do they think we have no interest in real food? How about pork with black fungus and golden egg? Doesn't that just sound delicious. Nothing on that menu lacked the flavor of authenticity, this was the real deal. But hey it flickered and was gone in a flash. Now surely only if one is lucky enough invited by chance to their house may you enjoy such pleasures. What has happened to the artistry of flavor has it all gone Panda express?

So after letting that hunk-a- chunka meat dry out over night , the grill hot , steaks at the ready did meat hit grill. As has been done for a millennium, flames licking , orgyastically at the fat, sizzling, delicious, wonderful, we merrily devoured Mr. Cow.

It was good , really good.

BEHIND THE GREEN DOOR

I had no idea what I was getting into. What had started as a forced summer job turned a battle of wills to a career pimping flavor and textural experiences for the orgasmic pleasure of others. Cool was never an attribute I possessed as a kid. Oh no buddy not here. Karen, my oldest sister, bestowed upon me a love for Gaelic music and dance, dressing like a total preppy my moms. Hey I really thought I'm cool, whats wrong with you, who cares about your stupid Zepplin T- shirt. We're going to the Barber of Seville at U-Mass, Mozart rocks. Fitting in was problematic. Other kids always seemed different no matter what side of the fence they hailed. Yearning for that spiritual home, a quest was born. For only when my minds eyes were ripped open did I realize the two pillars of civilized society, SEX and FOOD.

Jean Jacques, Hassan, Timmy, Paul, Mark,and the rest at Picots Place,thanks for the indoctrination. We had it covered, a Frenchmen or two, a few Iranians[ this is when we liked Iran], the son of a state police captain, and a bunch of local kids who learned the difference between food and cuisine. Who would serve us a pitcher with our pie, where to go smoke and our favorite --- the quickest way over the boarder to Connecticut. Alcohol, food, women, the tastes, smells,textures, and the hair splitting sharpness of knives,and skin bubbling heat sounded like fun to me. My other friends had fake ID's, we had a bar. They had strict parents, Ha, we had Chef Jean Jacques, and he was French! Into this mix of social misfits I walk. Fearlessly believing my parents friendship with the owner would protect me from these cigarette smoking,pot smoking, alcohol before noon, sociopaths. WRONG. I became an undercover corrupted individual. I liked the parties, I liked the inebriated women, I liked the hush of respect that befalls the barroom when our crew entered, no matter how we smelled.Only when in the midst of the kitchen did I feel safe. No need to remember what concerto this is, taste this its fucking awesome. While for some the catalyst may have been some blotter, Dylan or Thompson it was nothing that mundane for moi.

Food is a turn on. Always has been. From the first Neanderthal bringing an antelope to the communal fire, soon to realize this gets him hairy, semi hippie women or maybe their French. Not at first by any means, but slowly as my skills evolved it dawned on me like the sun over marblehead. I just didn't see how med or law could be this much fun and still get paid. It was, or so I thought, shameless gluttony, both physically and spiritually. I mean come on now guys, most of you have no idea what goes on in restaurants. Never mind Gordon and his horror shows, reality is so much better. A hungry waitress almost always has something to offer in exchange. Inept cooks after exhaustive ball busting, were offered jobs at my friends restaurant as their standards are in line with yours, as Jean Jacques would say. How nice. The moans,slurps,sloshing reverberating from the dining room could easily be mistaken for that of the local XXX theatre. Reward enough for chefs knowing that satisfaction may be had in ways not involving genitalia.Lets get real, how often when that dish comes, do you say to yourself "oh man, I'm gonna enjoy this"or " Oh baby come to papa" as you slip the first bite between your moistened lips. The taste only eclipsed by the wiping of those drops of juice dribbling from the corner of your mouth. Are you ok? the voice of concern as you notice her eyes rolling back as she utters a guttural OHHHH! God I've never heard that sound, gee that was fun can I make her do it again? Eating is primal, where else can you elicit reactions such as that? That's right Sex, only eating when done right is probably not as messy. Then again leaving the table mouth aglow, lips slippery and sticky you know it was done right.