Lately, I have been singularly uninspired to write....anything. I haven't done much in the realm of fun cooking. It's same ol', same ol' for me. However, with another show coming up in October, there is the possibility of some interesting posts.
On another note, someone has been discussing the idea of amuse bouche with me. I love the idea; small, bite-sized items that are varied, cutting edge or classic, hot or cold, savory or sweet. There are endless possibilities.
By the way, I'm totally in need of a camera to take photos to post. I'm going on the hunt....
Friday, September 21, 2012
Wednesday, September 12, 2012
Urgent: Share the love
A good friend of mine is working on his Ph.d dissertation. Unfortunately, he has run out of funds. But, all hope is not lost! He has a campaign on Kickstarter.com. You can help him add to our limited knowledge of Tibetan culture.
Nechung: The God of a Tibetan Monastery
Let's all help Chris kick a** on his dissertation! Time is running out!
Nechung: The God of a Tibetan Monastery
Let's all help Chris kick a** on his dissertation! Time is running out!
Monday, September 10, 2012
Tibetan Food is not Gourmet
Before I moved to Lhasa back in 2006, I don't even recall how many people told me time and time again that the food there stinks, that I would be hungry all the time because the food was terrible and Tibetan food was pretty much the worst of the if, next to the Chinese, Muslim and even the meager Western offerings.
I respectfully beg to differ with all of those people. Tibetan food is designed to be the foundation of life, as all food originally and at it's base, truly is. Over time, here in the "civilized" Western world, food has become luxury, trendy. According to the International Food Distributors Association, restaurants and associated businesses were a $600 billion industry in 2011. I can only imagine it has grown. In Tibet, while there are no calculated numbers, as such, I can guarantee it is less than that....much less.
Food in Tibet is not about sophistication, unless you take sophistication and simplicity hand in hand. When you live at an altitude of 12000 ft or greater, with minimal resources at your disposal, minimal processed items, and limited cooking methods, you learn to add variety where you can, and love the staples you have in abundance. It is amazing how much pleasure can be derived from simple things.
Living in Lhasa, I don't recall ever having a particularly bad meal. There were places that were better than others, sure, but overall, I thoroughly enjoyed the food. Variety is the spice of life, they say and variety, there certainly was. Any given day, I chose between a traditional Tibetan restaurant, Indian, Nepali, Chinese, Korean, Muslim, or Western. There were regional Tibetan restaurants, many, many types of momos (dumplings), thukpas (noodle soups), a wide variety of foods on sticks, in little baggies. There was an endless array of delicious things to be found, if one was willing to step outside the Western fast food box.
The difference, though, is that Tibetan food has not changed itself so much from it's purely survival based foundation, that it must be deconstructed, reconstructed, or have its own philosophy. It simply is.
I respectfully beg to differ with all of those people. Tibetan food is designed to be the foundation of life, as all food originally and at it's base, truly is. Over time, here in the "civilized" Western world, food has become luxury, trendy. According to the International Food Distributors Association, restaurants and associated businesses were a $600 billion industry in 2011. I can only imagine it has grown. In Tibet, while there are no calculated numbers, as such, I can guarantee it is less than that....much less.
Food in Tibet is not about sophistication, unless you take sophistication and simplicity hand in hand. When you live at an altitude of 12000 ft or greater, with minimal resources at your disposal, minimal processed items, and limited cooking methods, you learn to add variety where you can, and love the staples you have in abundance. It is amazing how much pleasure can be derived from simple things.
Living in Lhasa, I don't recall ever having a particularly bad meal. There were places that were better than others, sure, but overall, I thoroughly enjoyed the food. Variety is the spice of life, they say and variety, there certainly was. Any given day, I chose between a traditional Tibetan restaurant, Indian, Nepali, Chinese, Korean, Muslim, or Western. There were regional Tibetan restaurants, many, many types of momos (dumplings), thukpas (noodle soups), a wide variety of foods on sticks, in little baggies. There was an endless array of delicious things to be found, if one was willing to step outside the Western fast food box.
The difference, though, is that Tibetan food has not changed itself so much from it's purely survival based foundation, that it must be deconstructed, reconstructed, or have its own philosophy. It simply is.
Friday, September 7, 2012
Today is not about food
Ok, ok, ok. I know I promised I was going to do better about blogging, then promptly didn't post....
It's been a killer few weeks and I've been getting rested up. Today, I took a day off. I'm out of town, seeing some fantastic Tibetan monks. But, you know, it has reminded me of all the things I used to want to do, all the dreams I used to have, that are no longer on my radar.
Many years ago, before I finished high school, all I wanted to do was going to culinary school and be a pastry chef. My goals changed when I started learning about Tibet. It occupied my every waking moment. I planned to be an activist, to single-handedly free Tibet. I entered college with that clear goal in mind, finished my Bachelor's degree in two and a half years so I could join an MA program in Tibetan Studies that had an open spot. At some point after that, I changed. I think, at first, I had burnt myself out working so hard at school. After a summer in China, my perspective changed. Did I still think China was wrong for taking what wasn't theirs? Absolutely. But, I no longer thought of Chinese people as the proverbial "devil". The people charmed me, and I began to realize that hardcore activism would not solve the problem.
So, off I went to grad school, barely 20 years old, and starting to lose confidence in my own convictions. While I wholly agree that Tibet should be independent, I no longer had the emotional drive that started me on the path. How does one transform that now empty spot into something productive? That, I never learned. Instead, I finished grad school, kind of floundering at the end, barely hanging on, and made my way to the Roof of the World.
I spent almost two years living there, in Tibet, the land of my dreams. It was amazing, incredible, taught me more about myself than any other experience I ever had, made me become more social, more confident, more assertive. But, conversely, my focus changed. I decided to get back into cooking, after spending so long experimenting with food there, finagling successful renditions of home-cooking out of strange ingredients and irregular appliances.
Eventually, I returned to the States, full of a new vigor, eager to get into cooking in a way I never had before. And I did. One year in an intensive culinary school, and I was out in the world, cooking for a living. And, while I find profound pleasure in cooking for others, there are times I feel regretful about not completing those idealistic goals of my younger years, for giving up on my own potential in that arena, for allowing my own feelings of inadequacy to inform my actions in life. Perhaps that is a little dramatic, but the fact remains that at some point, I lost both my confidence and my focus. I do love my career in food but I wonder what would be different if I had kept that extreme passion and drive that started me on the path in the beginning. I don't even know what my true dreams are now. I don't have an objective out there, pushing me, coaxing me to evolve, to change, to grow. There's no carrot on the end of the stick anymore. And I don't know where to find one.
In a way, I'm sad I came out here today. The physical distance from one part of my life is nice, but I've exchanged it for emotional closeness to that other part, that dusty part covered in cobwebs, that I put away long ago, hoping it would disappear.
Now, the question becomes, what do I make of myself?
It's been a killer few weeks and I've been getting rested up. Today, I took a day off. I'm out of town, seeing some fantastic Tibetan monks. But, you know, it has reminded me of all the things I used to want to do, all the dreams I used to have, that are no longer on my radar.
Many years ago, before I finished high school, all I wanted to do was going to culinary school and be a pastry chef. My goals changed when I started learning about Tibet. It occupied my every waking moment. I planned to be an activist, to single-handedly free Tibet. I entered college with that clear goal in mind, finished my Bachelor's degree in two and a half years so I could join an MA program in Tibetan Studies that had an open spot. At some point after that, I changed. I think, at first, I had burnt myself out working so hard at school. After a summer in China, my perspective changed. Did I still think China was wrong for taking what wasn't theirs? Absolutely. But, I no longer thought of Chinese people as the proverbial "devil". The people charmed me, and I began to realize that hardcore activism would not solve the problem.
So, off I went to grad school, barely 20 years old, and starting to lose confidence in my own convictions. While I wholly agree that Tibet should be independent, I no longer had the emotional drive that started me on the path. How does one transform that now empty spot into something productive? That, I never learned. Instead, I finished grad school, kind of floundering at the end, barely hanging on, and made my way to the Roof of the World.
I spent almost two years living there, in Tibet, the land of my dreams. It was amazing, incredible, taught me more about myself than any other experience I ever had, made me become more social, more confident, more assertive. But, conversely, my focus changed. I decided to get back into cooking, after spending so long experimenting with food there, finagling successful renditions of home-cooking out of strange ingredients and irregular appliances.
Eventually, I returned to the States, full of a new vigor, eager to get into cooking in a way I never had before. And I did. One year in an intensive culinary school, and I was out in the world, cooking for a living. And, while I find profound pleasure in cooking for others, there are times I feel regretful about not completing those idealistic goals of my younger years, for giving up on my own potential in that arena, for allowing my own feelings of inadequacy to inform my actions in life. Perhaps that is a little dramatic, but the fact remains that at some point, I lost both my confidence and my focus. I do love my career in food but I wonder what would be different if I had kept that extreme passion and drive that started me on the path in the beginning. I don't even know what my true dreams are now. I don't have an objective out there, pushing me, coaxing me to evolve, to change, to grow. There's no carrot on the end of the stick anymore. And I don't know where to find one.
In a way, I'm sad I came out here today. The physical distance from one part of my life is nice, but I've exchanged it for emotional closeness to that other part, that dusty part covered in cobwebs, that I put away long ago, hoping it would disappear.
Now, the question becomes, what do I make of myself?
Monday, September 3, 2012
Anticipation
This week is going to be exciting. Every couple of years, a group of Tibetan monks comes to town and builds a sand mandala, hosts workshops and helps to education people about Tibet and Tibetan Buddhism. Well, they are here! I am looking forward to their visit and their cultural showcase on Friday night. I have my chuba (Tibetan dress) going in to the dry cleaner to get all pressed and ready, and I'm digging out my recipe for Kapsey, traditional butter cookies, and preparing some butter tea.
Stay tuned for more updates about this small adventure.
Stay tuned for more updates about this small adventure.
Saturday, September 1, 2012
Another Closing Night
Tonight was the final dinner performance of our summer show at work. It's been a long run, 8 shows total, several hundred people through the restaurant, experiencing a different side to our city. I've been around since the inception of our evening business. For a location that is primarily a State and city business center, it has been a struggle to bring people in at other times. Too often people would rather go to the other side of town, populated by chain restaurant, impersonal mega stores and traffic that would choke even the widest street.
I want to say how great it is to work with awesome people and have the opportunity to make delicious food. Despite the fact I love delicious food, love making it for others, there is a trade-off. I no longer enjoy cooking for myself, except on the odd occasion. In fact, by the end of a show, I no longer really even enjoy making the food for the customers. The only positive thing I experience is that dinner service runs so smoothly that it might as well be slicked with butter. But, I do not miss the 17-hour days, the early Saturday starts or the late nights.
I'm glad it's over....until the next time.
I want to say how great it is to work with awesome people and have the opportunity to make delicious food. Despite the fact I love delicious food, love making it for others, there is a trade-off. I no longer enjoy cooking for myself, except on the odd occasion. In fact, by the end of a show, I no longer really even enjoy making the food for the customers. The only positive thing I experience is that dinner service runs so smoothly that it might as well be slicked with butter. But, I do not miss the 17-hour days, the early Saturday starts or the late nights.
I'm glad it's over....until the next time.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)