April 5th, 2021

I have spent a few days thinking about where to start explaining where I am coming from in terms for perspective. The “Journey.” I will start the journey with trying to explain the journey as it relates to food first. Raised in a Filipino family with all its rules and traditions, food was always important. Contact with a culture and history that I knew very little of, food became the entry point to all of it. Making the history, the language and the culture make sense. Exposure to food, what to expect, what flavor profiles to hold onto and what to discard. Family get togethers around birthdays and holidays, especially Christmas, revolved round food. Not that this was very different that most families and cultures. I know. Food brought us together. Filipino food staples with a smattering of American dishes. I remember tables at Thanksgiving with Filipino dishes with turkey, mashed potatoes and stuffing. It wasn’t as much as a clash of cultures as it was a meld of them. Probably a lot like me and my family.

It was at these gatherings that the hierarchy of both the food and the family made itself clear. My paternal grandmother ruled over when we ate, what we ate and who prepared what. I guess you can say that, at least in my family, the driving force has always come from the women (probably another topic for another blog post). My grandmother came to the US with a maid, a helper from the Philippines who was more family than anything else. Stories filtered down in broken English of how she took care of my brother and me when we were infants. She cooked and cleaned for my grandmother in the Philippines and did the same for her when she came to the US. She was the head cook in our family. She was our food connection to that world. A world half way around the globe where I was born but didn’t grow up in. Atching Mals cooked everything. Exposed us to a palate between McDonalds and NYC Chinatown, I would make my own. I eat everything. Little goes to waste because nothing was wasted in the Philippines. Eating like we lived in the Philippines. Knowing where my mother making three meals out of a KFC large bucket came from. Learning how to eat the knobby ends of chicken bones, the gristle off of ham bones, how everything is better with rice became second nature to me. Taking that prime rib bone from Steak and Ale to make soup was normal. Knowing that my Dad would order whole steamed fish every time we went out for Chinese food, not how the restaurant prepared it, but like he would cook it at home. The fact that my Mom would asked for lemon with patis (fish sauce) every time we would order lo mein. Because any Asian noodle dish can be made to taste like pancit. For me it was very “Accidental tourist.” Being in a foreign country but feeling like you never left home. People look at me weirdly when I eat things that they wouldn’t normally think to eat — chicken feet, pig ears, etc.. The “how the fuck do you eat that?” look. My palate was set up long ago around my family’s Christmas dinner table as well as having the third meal out of the soup made from bones from a KFC large bucket.

So lechon kawali. At home. Lechon is special for Filipinos. Special occasion food — birthdays, Christmas, fiestas. Lechon kawali is derivative of everything that is a whole, spit fire roasted pig. Many food shows have revolved around Filipino lechon. Specifically from Cebu. People think that it is the best lechon in the world. Lechon kawali is a crispy skin, pork belly version of everything that a whole pig is. It is a multi-step process. Parboiling the belly in herbs including bay leaves and lemon grass, resting the pork overnight and then roasting it in the oven or in this case our air fryer. The mix of crispy skin, rendered fat and soft meat is the definition of comfort food for Filipinos. At least this Filipino. There are a lot of dishes that do that. Often they place me in the Philippines, in a specific place, with certain images and memories, just from the first bite.

November 1, 2022

So the pictures above show the transition from R Kitchen to my home kitchen. From Russ’ cast iron to my cast iron to my homemade poke bowl. Trying to pick up this blog. No. Resuscitate this blog into what it will become — an homage to food and travel around Charleston and the world. An answer to questions as basic as “why we eat?” and “why did we pick that over this?” “Why we do the shit that we do” And what I thought of it — the taste, the experience, the essence. With assorted flyfishing posts I am sure. And with that we are off — To Spain, to Barcelona. One of my favorite places in the world. Maybe April 2021 wasn’t the time to blog. Let’s see if November 2022 is the time to blog. Capture the experiences, the flavors and my world, one post at a time. From the first bite to the last plate licking one. Let’s go.

March 13, 2021

So why now? Why start a blog a year after having an account? Why now after just posting a “reason for blogging” paragraph from almost a year ago? I have written a blog before and really had nothing to say then except random musing and I guess up until now, I had nothing to say. Nothing to contribute. Nothing to exhale about. A million things to just let go. Maybe something inciteful, maybe something cathartic, mind opening. Maybe just to rant. Explore and go beyond the comfort zone that at times arrests us from being what we are and can be. So much to say and so much to share. Pushed by my wife and Facebook friends. Be honest, be critical, be funny, be crazy. Be me. So let me start as a way of introduction and definition of what this blog will be about… Food, wine, fly-fishing, rants and musing… with a paragraph or two about each one of the pictures I have shared. There will be more pictures I promise. Just figuring this blogging thing out. Again. So nine pictures that will act as an introduction….

Picture #1: Bighorn River, 2010ish

So about 20 years ago I met one of my best friends on earth, Marc. He told me that fly fishing would be my new golf. At about the same time, I got a fly rod from my mother on my 35th birthday . She said something like “Let this be your therapy.” Little did I know where that rod would take me. Little did I know that the “therapy” she described wouldn’t be enough. My fascination with with fly fishing led to addiction as all good thing do. It has become my church when church wasn’t available. It would be a pace and a beat I could follow and get in sync with, when there was no beat or path to follow. I corrects me. It has led me to places and experiences that I would have never thought myself to have. It has led me to Yellowstone National Park, Belize, the Yucatan, and the Bahamas. It has pushed me to my limits, even past them. I has brought me some of my best friends and companions. It has retaught me patience, to think outside the box, and has had me push past my physical and mental comfort zone. It has scared me. It has almost killed me. The picture on the Bighorn casting to rising fish off the bank was taken by Marc. Cold, driving rain, casting dry caddis patterns, midges to heads barely breaking the surface film. Fishing a Bill Taylor quad. A rod I still own. The memory automatically takes me there. Life is about experiences and memories right?

Picture #2 Chef Patrick O’Connell, in his kitchen, Inn at Little Washington 2018

Wow. I got engaged for the second time. In three weeks, I would be married to my wife, Jenn. The trip had been planned for a while. Friends told me that this place was special. Michelin three star in a small town at the base of the Shenandoah National Park. Fantastic meal. I would do the whole night again. Pictured the whole thing in my head and executed it. I am a planner. Making sure everything is right for everybody and therefore, right for me. Tasting menu with wine flight. Every course described by the waitstaff and every wine explained by the sommelier. I would take anyone, who thinks paying a ridiculous amount for food and wine is insane, here. This is one of those insane places. Like the French Laundry. Like Per Se. Well deserved three star. At the end of the service, I asked “Can we see the kitchen?” “Of course,” was the response. Hidden behind doors and hallways, we entered a bright and sterile workspace. We were greeted by Chef himself. “Do you want a picture?” “Of course.” What three star chef works in their own kitchen? Definitely one of the highlights of my foodie journey. The engagement ring is over my left shoulder. A stunner (that’s another story for a future blog post.) A journey that through this blog will continue. Anyone want to go? Just tell me the date and time and I will try to be there.

Picture #3 Lorelei, Islamorado, Florida keys 2020

My wife suggested that I use this picture as my FB profile picture. I think she likes it because it shows me as happy and relaxed as I have ever been. The Keys are one of the places that center me. If it’s a nudge or a slap to normal, that’s ok. In the hectic life we all lead, for me it is one of those places that forces me to slow down. Even to re-evaluate. Even to stop. Hold hands with my wife. Hold hands with the thought that this is ok. “We will figure it out.” A phrase that we don’t take lightly. It has become our mantra. Slow down, start here, start with me and let’s figure it out. I guess what I am saying is this place resets me. With a dive and/or a flyrod chasing after the big silver fish. Always.

Picture #4 Botany Bay, Edisto Island 2020 B&W

Another centering place. The ebb and flow and yet very little big changes. Hmmmm. Thanks to Gina and Andy for taking us here last September. It is a reminder of how the coast of South Carolina would be if left to nature. Can you hear the surf? I can. This beach is only accessible at low tide. So many life lessons from just sitting and observing this beach — how the tides change, how the sun and shadows change and disappear, how nothing big really changes and yet it does. That tree is different. That shell is new, or crushed or weathered. I will definitely write about that. I love black and white BTW.

Picture #5 Water in a bay near Isla de Mujeres –First tarpon on a Fly

Yeah, so traveling to fishing, dive and eat. Whether it’s saltwater or fresh picking up a fly rod has become part of me. I was never an outdoorsy type of person — I am scared of being alone. Compound that fear when I am in the woods or open ocean or remote trout stream, and I am almost scared to move. I don’t like sleeping in the wild, but I do it. I don’t like being in open water but I do it too. This first tarpon was a big deal. Tarpon fishing on the fly was always one of my fly fishing highlights. You have to do everything right. Small technical things make a difference. How far you lead the fish, how fast or slow you strip the line, the set and the landing — all of it. I guess I have always love the little things. Technical things. Subtle actions and inaction make all the difference between success and failure. Hopefully things always shift toward success but failure is ok as well. We learn from more from failure than we do from success. “Normisms” one of my medical students called them. This blog will be full of them. I will highlight them when I notice. Fishing has never been a solo thing except to clear my mind. It is a communal thing. It’s about the gathering. Sharing the knowledge and the time. Give me your time, undivided and undistracted time. Better than money. That’s what I hope to give to my friends and family. A life goal — for them as well as myself.

I don’t even own that rod anymore. I pared down to what rods and reels and bags are important. That fit my casting stroke and hand well. Second nature things. Things that I know I love to use and wont’ fail under the most pressing situations. I might fail but my equipment rarely does. Invest in these things. Long term things. Like friendships. Invest in these people.

Picture #6 Breakfast tacos February 2021

Just to make sure that this blog doesn’t become a fancy pants food blog I needed to include this picture. Breakfast tacos made for me by a Mexican woman when the buffet line at the restaurant became intolerably long — for normal breakfast food –bacon, eggs, pancakes. Influenced by Covid. So I went to get my/our breakfast tacos. Made straight from the masa ball to the fire driven griddle to my plate. Pork al pastor that was melt in your mouth good. A food memory. A taste memory. Tomatillo salsa. So yeah, I will be writing about big deal food and not really about expensive food. At time life changing food. Re-evaluate what you expect from a wine or seafood dish or soup. My life has been filled with a lot of those. Always with friends or family. Sometimes out in the world. Sometimes in my own kitchen. A lot of times in my own kitchen. Cooking because it represents love. Sharing my love with people who I love. My love for food. My love. My essence. My soul. Something I got from my Dad — the true chef in the family. My Dad’s whole steamed fish, Uncle Dan’s fried chicken. There will be a lot from my own kitchen.

Picture #7 Blue Passport

So much in one picture. Opened up the world to me.” We will always travel “– I promised Jenn this a long time ago. I live my life in a Filipino body, but I am also an American. Some of my life philosophies are Filipino because I was raised in a Filipino family, but I was educated here and have lived here my whole life. Or at least the life that I remember. So much of both worlds that I know but also a lot I don’t know. Always changing. Always being defined and redefining. Always learning. Always expecting more. Always giving more. Wanting more. All feelings definitely American. The blue passport after I became a citizen. It was acquired so I could do mission work in the Philippines. Work I loved. I worked side by side with my mom. One of my role models. The first. The citizenship and the blue passport allowed me to do some many things that my friends who were born here already could do — vote, travel without a visa to most of the world, feel safe. So much in that little blue book.

Picture #8 Little carrot chew toy

So I am a Dad to four cats. Two kittens and two adults. This carrot came from my 4×4 garden’s spring clean up and replant. I left it out on the kitchen counter and it soon became a cat toy. Yeah, so we have a garden and four cats. Right — “Our House” CSNY. You’ll hear about them too. I mean the cats. Inky, Stinky, Isla and Largo. And about things out of my garden that transform themselves into food. The food that most amazes me now is shit I can’t even try to make at home (one of the reasons why we go out, right?) and things that taste unfiltered and the way they are suppose to. Like a carrot tasting like a carrot and not like beef. There’s a whole genre of food like that. That’s not me. That’s not what I blog about. Like processed food that is supposed to taste like meat. Nope. Only meat tastes like meat. And carrots should taste like carrots. Especially like carrots that came right out of the ground hours or minutes before being served. Or where the staff or chef went out at crack of dawn o’clock to the farm or farmer’s market to get what was fresh today. Not fresh yesterday. “Holy fuck” food. Life transforming food.

Picture #9 The last fucking Ricotta Gnocchi

Don’t be that person. Except if you are my wife. That person who asks “do you want that?” “are you going to eat that?” Well hell yes. Because it is the best damn gnocchi on the planet. It has been on the menu forever. I will order it every single time. May be even twice. I double dog dare you to eat it. I will cut you. Unless you are my wife. Part of the reason we moved to South Carolina. The food. One of the best food cities in the country. Crazy good. I will talk about the restaurants here and elsewhere. I will talk about the BBQ place in a garden center. I will talk about restaurants that are 3 star Michelin and ones that should be and ones that shouldn’t. I will talk about things to order and things to pass on. Things to share and things to keep to yourself. Wines to drink as house wine, as special occasion wine, as friends come over wine, and foes come over wine. Wine to give away and wines to hold on to. I will write about that three dollar bottle of wine in the Athens market that came from the family’s vineyard. So yeah I will write about food. A lot of it from my own kitchen. Food that’s “don’t order it here because I/Norm can do it better at home” food. There’s a lot of great food coming out of my kitchen. A lot of great wine coming out of the wine fridge. I will blog about all of it.

Anyway, that’s an introduction about what this blog is about. I am excited about it. I will write about old experiences and new ones in the next posting. Lots to cover but that’s all for now.

So where are we? Where am I? Having a blog before this and enjoying it very much, Jenn and I thought it would be a good idea to start blogging again. Not only for my heart but also my head. We travel lot. We have had and will have a lot of experiences. I am a huge foodie — almost to the extreme. I flyfish –again, almost to the extreme. I am a heart attack survivor. I still have a lot of life to experience and lived a lot of life that I want to share. I have opinions about almost everything. I am a continuous thinker. I love reading. I love writing. Really. I think getting all the experiences and thoughts down will help me not only stay grounded and real, but also to share what comes next and what comes now. Now… where should I start?