Archive for November, 2006

Thanksgiving Rib Roast

I don’t understand why Americans are so brainwashed into eating turkey on Thanksgiving. Turkey and Thanksgiving are synonymous. Yet, we neither desire nor respect the beast enough to consider preparing turkey on any other day of the year. I suppose there isn’t any other creature of comparable size and worthlessness that can economically sustain the gluttonous feeding habits of an extended family gathering. I’ve always hated turkey. Beginning with their appearance (a sickly, mutant white color which looks nothing similar to the natural brown of wild turkey) to their stupidity (apparently the birds will drown in the rain), turkeys are disgusting creatures in my mind. I would just as soon chew on a cockroach as chew on a turkey.

Most of my friends and family are aware of my aversion and have oddly accommodated my idiosyncrasy. During my childhood, my mother always baked a little chicken for me when she used to actually bother preparing a turkey-based feast. Nowadays, my family routinely sticks to galbi or sashimi. My junior year of college, my friend Jong and his then roommate had me over for Thanksgiving and I brought a rotisserie chicken with me. His roommate, an odd duck himself, was quite affronted. In Philadelphia, my friend Jason invited me to his home for Thanksgiving and I was surprised to find that his mother had made galbi-jim for me while everyone else enjoyed turkey. I have even prepared Thanksgiving turkeys in the past for my friends. Know thy enemy, some say.

2006-11-23 @18-25-24.jpgThis year, my parents are in the midsts of renovating the house and weren’t interested in preparing a meal. Furthermore, my girlfriend said that she never ever celebrated Thanksgiving having grown up in Asia. So, I took it upon myself to prepare a Thanksgiving dinner. However, staying true to my aversion for turkey, I prepared a rib roast. What a marvelous idea. I picked up a 7 lb prime rib roast from Pavilions for about 40 bucks, slathered a garlic/horseradish/olive oil mixture all over it and let it marinate for a long while before roasting it to a beautiful medium rare. Recipes for side dishes were derived from Lawry’s online and included cream of spinach, cream of corn, a rosemary/garlic yam and potato mash, and salad.

Suffice it to say, a new tradition is born. I’m not a starving idiot of a Puritan who needed help from the natives to survive through a year of hardship, so I’ll pass on the turkey and gourd-based desserts. I’d rather feast on a juicy slice of prime rib than pack an avian monstrosity full of stuffing and slather it with gravy in the hopes that it’ll magically transform from a fourth rate bit of poultry into something actually worth eating. Here is to the rib roast, a worthy and proper centerpiece for discriminating family gatherings.

More pictures from Thanksgiving dinner can be found here.






My God

I believe in God. But, my God is probably different from your idea of a god. My God isn’t a manifestation of a book or a prophecy. My God comes from a few truths that I accept. Philosphers, pundits, and zealots will question the definition of truth, yours and miine, and everything else; they will question the question and offer other alternatives, subterfuge and logical slights of hand. This is their purpose. I, on the other hand, accept that which is simple, undeniable, and rational, not that which has been convoluted by our imperfect species recollections and interpretations of history and legend.

My God is all knowing and all powerful.
My God created everything exactly as intended.

That’s it. That’s all I know. But, that’s enough to live my life, because I am living the life I was intended to live and making the choices that I was intended to make. Everything is the way it is because everything is intended to be this way. And, what has been, what is, and what will be, down to the tiniest detail of each subatomic particle and beyond, are already established. Why? Because anything less would make my God less than all knowing and all powerful. And, this cannot be because my God eats your sichzophrenic, multiple personality, insane, and illogical gods for breakfast. Before your trinity, your prophets, your pantheons, your suns and moons, your light and darkness, your black and white, there was my God, the true alpha and omega.

LA Omogari (Rating: 2/5)

901 S. Western Ave. #104
Los Angeles, CA 90006

As our culinary adventures in Koreatown continue, so do our disappointments. Today’s random restaurant was Omogari on Western, across from BCD Tofu House. The food was quite bad.

We ordered the bibim neng-myun and galbi combo and a galbi-tang. The flavor of the neng-myun was off and the galbi was not galbi (intercostal muscles) but some other cut of meat which had obviously sat too long in the frig or been salvaged from some other dish. Tough and chewy, the meat was more unappetizing than the neng-myun. Similarly priced, the neng-myun/galbi combo at Chung Ki Wa is far superior.

The galbi-tang, on the other hand, was interesting. The ingredients reminded me more of samgeh-tang than galbi-tang and the meat was plentiful. However, I wouldn’t call it anywhere close to the best galbi-tang that I have ever eaten.

A rating of 3 would indicate that I might consider returning. A rating of 1, like for Dos Burritos, would indicate that I found myself in mortal peril. The rating of 2 is quite appropriate.






Nakzi Village (Rating: 2/5)

3rd and Hobart
Los Angeles, CA

nakzi.jpgI should have realized that Nakzi was an anglo-cized form of 낙지, which is a sort of small cephalopod. Tired of the usual restaurants, we decided to try out something new. Simply put, the main dinner course is very similar to what you would find at a 닭 갈비 (chicken galbi) restaurant. Cabbage, onions, soybean sprouts, red pepper paste, red pepper flakes mixed with nakji rather than chicken and cooked in a large metal skillet. After consuming the first part of the meal, the remaining sauce and vegetable discards are combined with rice for a second course.

Screenshots-turned-posters from Korean news/television shows which have reported on the restaurant and its cuisine adorn the walls. I think its much to do about nothing really. $14 per person with a two person mininum order for what amounts to kimchi (the cabbage essentially becomes kimchi) and nakji is a waste of money. The taste is bluntly spicy and the nakji never takes on any other flavor than the mild hint of ocean or tank water from which it came. For novelty, this is an interesting restaurant to try as not many eateries center their offerings around nakji. However, in the future, I doubt I’ll opt for more rubbery, flavorless cephalopod-based food.

The Ill-Mannered

Tonight I attended a distant relative’s wedding on behalf of my parents. The reception was at a Hilton hotel ballroom which had been decorated quite elegantly. Seating was assigned and I found myself at a table with my cousin, aunt, girlfriend, and five strangers. The man sitting next to me was the well dressed, middle-aged companion of a slightly obese woman in black rimmed glasses. They were accompanied by three elderly individuals. What became obvious was that these guests were not related to the bride or groom in any fashion.

I was immediately struck by something I overheard the man say to his wife. “I don’t care what anyone thinks, the waiter should leave a champagne bottle here.” It was out of context and nothing particularly stimulating, but I found his attitude annoying. Soon, I also found his boorish demeanor at the table distasteful. He attacked the community food immediately and without regard for the other members of the table and did not offer to pass anything placed singularly and directly in front of him. In his anxiousness for wine, he grabbed my wine glass and beckoned for a fill, leaving the ignorant waiter to fill my white wine glass instead of my red. After his use of the salt and pepper or sugar and cream, he failed to pass them along, carelessly arresting their progress around the table. Other little discourtesies came to pass.

Meanwhile, at an adjacent table full of church goers, a table of older couples continued their lively personal conversations throughout the toasts and announcements. I turned my head towards them and shared my disapproval with my grim countenance. One of the women went so far as to have a loud and distracting conversation on her mobile phone throughout the best man’s toast. I continued to stare incredulously at society’s detritus, the hypocrites and self-entitled, the truest of Philistines. There is surely a circle of Hell reserved for your kind, one in which your cries for mercy will be left unheard, overwhelmed by a thousand cell phone conversations.

Perhaps I sound ridiculous, lamenting particular individuals’ lack of courtesy, but I can’t help but feel a little incensed at these people’s behavior. This was my relative’s wedding but, as far as I was concerned, I could have been my own wedding with these guests as my guests and my guests’ guests. I turned to my girlfriend and said audibly, “dressed up, anyone can pretend to be a gentlemen, but you can spot the fakes by their table manners.” In that moment, I thanked my mother for having instructed me so well and Ms. Spadafora for that quick lesson on dining etiquette before Senior Night during my high school days.

Fancy cars, clothes, and jewelry can present the facade of class. But, the deceit is wholly undermined by less tangible things like good manners and etiquette — far better reflections of gentility than gold watches and BMWs. Sadly, most of the people I saw were poor thespians from the same miserable troupe, playing at decorum and woefully oblivious to their evident shortcomings.