One in Millions but One in a million

'Tis the season to................ It's Christmas everyone! If you haven't noticed the change of weather, the big sale storefront signs, and the decorations everywhere, 'tis the season to be grateful for what you have and show that special someone that they're the reason you work so hard all year round to give them all their heart desires.

To the teller at the bank, they're just another checking account. To plumber or the guy that fixes the air conditoning, they're just another house. To the waiter at the fancy restaurant, they're just another tip. While that might seem like one in millions, that person is one in a million to me. And I consider myself the luckiest person in the world to have spent a year trying to show a very special person they are one in a million to me.

Speaking of one in a million, this reminds me of my junior year of high school, I took A.P. Economics, and my teacher opened a class by saying, " Almost any man can learn to earn money, but one in a million knows how to spend it." Back then, it didn't resonate with me. It really didn't make a difference. I simply remembered it because of how I tried to make sense of it . Back then, I wondered if it meant proper investing, wise monetary choices, buying stocks, etc. These days it makes complete sense and it has nothing to do with buying stocks. It has to do with your heart. That day, my teacher closed the class by saying, "A racehorse that consistently runs just a few seconds faster than another is worth millions of dollars more. Being willing to give that extra effort is what separates the winner from the one in second place."

Almost ten years later, that class lingers in my mind, and I'm glad it has. You see, it doesn't matter if you make one dollar or you make a million dollars. What matters, is if you spend what you can, from your heart. Give it a backbone, give it some deep rooted meaning. For most of us, we get a pay check, we go to the mall, and we buy Christmas gifts. My hope for this holiday season is that we all give our "one-in-a-million" that extra effort. I hope that we don't go for the Big Sale storefront signs and the long lines, don't narrow down the giving to Christmas Day. A flower doesn't cost much, and a wild flower doesn't cost anything, leave a little note on the refrigerator. And if you want to break the bank on them, do it. Buy the diamond. Afterall, they are the reason you work so hard day in and day out.

The places I've visited today, and the decorations I've seen everywhere, have all made me think it's Christmas time! But more so, it reminds me how much I have to thank God, for my "one-in-a-million" And that's why, I will do my best to make this Christmas... "One-in-a million." 'Tis the season to MAKE IT COUNT.

Birds and Thanksgiving

It's Thanksgiving...literally, the day of Thanksgiving and it's been about a month or so that all we hear about is the bird (in regards to the turkey). The bird in the stores, the bird on tv, the bird on front covers of consumer magazines; making us obsess over making the perfect bird, or craving that perfect bird. Bird! Bird! Bird!

In retrospect, that got me thinking about birds in general. There's so much to say about birds; a little bird told me, birds of prey, birds of paradise, giving someone the bird, that's for the birds, the birds and the bees, birds eye view, birds of a feather flock together, early bird catches the worm, and my favorite from the movie - The Notebook - "If you're a bird, I'm a bird."

Speaking of movies, I do a live segment on Los Angeles's KIIS 102.7 fm where we feature a movie, combine it with a life lesson, and allow callers to tell us all about how they relate. It's just a way of getting out a positive message to younger listeners. One of the upcoming movies is the movie Restless by Gus Van Sant. There's this amazing scene about this beautiful songbird who thinks its going to die every sundown and in consequence, wakes up singing this magnificent song because its so grateful to still be alive. Bird lovers across the globe know this bird to sing the most beautiful song of all humming birds or songbirds. Something about this scene really struck a note in me. Gratitude is instilled even in birds, and that's what Thanksgiving is all about. Gratitude, thankfulness for the abundance we have in our lives.

Today, I don't want to be simply thankful for my family, our health, my friends, etc. I'm thankful for the wonderful things that have happened to me, and I'm also thankful for the horrible things that have happened to me, because they have made me the person I am today. I'm grateful for all the doors that have closed because each time, a window with a better opportunity has opened; for uncertainty and trying times, because it has given me fortitude and deliverance of faith; for hard work because it has given me endurance and dedication; for the things that have fallen apart beyond my control, because better ones have come together; for meeting all kinds of people, even bad ones, because that has made me feel lucky to meet the right ones; for every healthy day because it has given me priority and possibility; for the appreciation of art, because it has given me whimsical understanding; for serendipity because it has given me the assurance that there's no such thing as coincidence; for those days when things go wrong, because it has made me ecstatic when they go right.

Its Thursday, literally the day of Thanksgiving, November 25, 2010, and I feel like that songbird every morning when I wake up. Perhaps it's because I'm the luckiest person in the world to be able to say it in my heart, "If you're a bird, I'm a bird."

Thou shall not wear Khaki Pants...ever!

There are some days where you ask yourself, " Does it get any better than this?" and then, if you're lucky, there are days where you just know that it doesn't.

I still don't know how my head hasn't exploded from an overdose of all things astoundingly beautiful. I'm talking about a day where everything just falls together effortlessly, simple, undemanding, and yet the end result is a masterpiece. This day was in fact a masterpiece.

It began midday with a light patio lunch on the 15th floor, overlooking the prestine biscayne bay. We sat sandwiched between a couple of other gorgeous high rises, nestled in a small marble table sipping on some Purple haze, as we discussed menu items and why I was wearing khaki pants.

Yes, we were debating my fashion sense and how I looked like a billboard for GAP, as I sat there in my black tshirt from Banana Republic and my Khaki cotton pants. Clothes never make me feel self-conscious but debating my fashion sense definetely gets a good laugh out of me, I do admit to overstepping the boundaries of boring and common sometimes - hence the GAP comparison. After a few bites of great guacamole, a shortrib tostada, and an incredible sushi roll, substituting my unexciting khaki pants seemed like the only logical thing to do....actually, substituting my entire outfit seemed like the only logical thing to do. Off to the mall we were! We had a couple of hours to kill before dinner reservations at a well sought out restaurant.

Giving the task to someone to dress you while you watch them choose all the different articles, could be a pretty entertaining thing. It's funny to see the things they'd choose for you, things you'd never choose on your own. I think this shopping process shed some light on my fashion sense. I was able to see that I was attracted to exactly the same type of clothes all around...black, grey, dark green...no ruffles, no strange patterns, no wild colors. It's not that I don't like them, it's just that I'm simply more quickly drawn to those other colors rather than something bright or vivid. After a really good time people watching, trying on clothes, and picking just the right outfit for dinner (afterall "khakis were a big no-no) , there was only one thing left to do before our reservaton. Change our clothes in the car! I felt like a couple of outlaws, a scene from a Life Less Ordinary, or something just as sketchy but exhilirating at the same time. We were all set for a fabulous dinner but had no idea what was in store...

One of my favorite parts of a dining experience anywhere is the element of surprise. Some places you know exactly what to expect. You know what you're going to get and how you're going to get it. Most places fail to deliver the WOW factor and even though I am always eagerly searching for it, I rarely find it. This time would prove to be one of those rare occassions.

Stepping into this restaurant, you are immediately fascinated by its nautical design - it almost has a Hamptons, northeastern feel to it. Being ten minutes early for our reservation, the hostess politely guided us to the bar and suggested a couple of cocktails before our table would be ready. One strawberry-candy like drink and a mojito. I love watching bartenders make drinks that actually require real fruit and extracting flavors by muddling, squeezing, and stirring - not just pouring and mixing. As the bartending was slicing berries and sqeezing lemons and limes, I was tasting the drink in my head. A couple of sips, and I was a happy camper. The hostess quickly took us to our outdoor table...and there it was....the WOW factor. A corner table at the very edge of the terrace of the hotel overlooking the ocean as the sunset approached. There is something eminently magical about a sunset. Maybe its the way it outlines the tall palm trees, maybe its the way it makes the ocean sparkle, or maybe its the way it signifies the day is ending; ending with hopes that you did it right, with hopes that this day was great. Maybe it the closing of a day, but the beginning of so much more that lay ahead. I tell you...something about those sunsets.

As for the meal, have you ever had a meal where sparks fly? I find it difficult to put into words how amazing this meal was. Luscious, creamy burratta Mozzarella, crusty bread with eggplant capponata, mascarpone butter, and a rustic Italian olive oil. Exuberantly, I awaited the next dishes hoping they'd be better but thinking that wouldn't be possible as this first course held its awesome status. The next dish was delicate and astounding beef tartare with a quail egg and shaved Alba white truffles. The Excutive Chef himself came out to our table to shave the white truffles onto our tartare dish. It was a jaw dropping experience as the aroma from the white truffles perfumed the ocean breeze. It was at that very moment as I sat there while the truffles glided through the air onto the plate ever so graceful, with my glass of wine, in this picturesque setting, and I thought to myself, "I really don't know how my head hasn't exploded from experiencing these outrageous larger than life moments. Sometimes I feel like I'm on ecstasy." Next, was this polenta that was cooked for 8 hours in milk that deserved a standing ovation. I didn't know if I was eating a creamy cheese or a corn product. It was silky, indulgent, and most definetely the kind of food you close your eyes to catch yourself for a moment....Or maybe you need a cigarette after (kidding I don't smoke). Each and every dish that followed was just as wonerful keeping my state of bliss at a steady nirvana. Speaking of bliss, after a couple of handcrafted pasta dishes, we couldn't skip dessert. I never order dessert but how could we skip dessert at a place that exceeded all expectations? A semi frozen pannacotta with a guava soup. Refreshing. Perfect. Soothing. Just what you need after meal made for kings and queens.

As the night concluded with a happy stomach and a good buzz, I realized a couple of brilliant things. Thou shall not wear khaki pants! and the other thing is to be grateful for those days that turn out to be masterpieces...Those days where you ask yourself, "Does it get any better than this? " and then, if you're lucky, there are those days where you just know that it doesn't." Cheers to the masterpieces!

In the words of the Veronica's

So they say that Lyon and Rome have a couple of things in common. One of which is that they are both full of temperamental gourmets eternally engaged with the never-ending search of that imaginary, perfect, unknown, little backstreet bistro where one can dine in the style of Louis the XIV. While I don't consider myself a temperamental gourmet, I have to admit I am fully fascinated by the idea of sharing a bottle of wine, a couple of impeccable dishes, and just sitting there enjoying the company. I've taken my share of mediocre-poorly made dishes with a grain of salt so I find it perfectly natural that I would get uber-excited over a fantastic meal.

Today, it all began by a meandering car ride, to a place I had already been to, and well, I couldn't remember I was there once, much less what I ate when I visited, so that speaks for itself. However, that mistake or blissful indifference lead me to ponder something, I asked myself one of the most common thought-of questions ever---- "What's for lunch?" And after a long list of "been there, done that" places, one restaurant stood out above the rest. This is a place where you can order a few, exquisite dishes, a superb wine, and enjoy an eclectic artsy atmosphere. Don't go for people watching, it seems as though the people that were there forgot their personalities at home, they seemed blase, apathetic almost. Were they just bored of lunch, or bored of life? Okay, so forget people watching; make sure you go with someone who mirrors your passion for food, and you'll be sure to be in a foodie-paradise.

I don't know about you, but one of my favorite foods in the world is a very high quality mozzarella called Burratta. A rich, creamy indulgently smooth cheese, idealy paired with a dense balsamic reduction, throw in some braised red onions, fresh tomatoes, a housemade pesto, and you're in heaven. I paired this with a glass of Lagaria, an Italian reisling, and this combination was a gourmet hyperbole all around. You couldn't help but smile from the first bite, the first sip. The two together was definetely love at first bite. A couple of other dishes consisted of swordfish carpaccio, scallops with preserved lemons, marinated artichokes, and few slices of artisan Italian bread accompanied by a fruity and pungeant olive oil with a light sprinkle of sea salt. Simple, fresh, clean food , a delicious wine, and the company of someone who cracks you up.... really....does it get better than this? I love visting places that grant me the priviledge to say "The best I ever had." In this case, this restaurant allowed me to have the best mozzarella I have ever had anywhere. I guess I can scratch that off my bucket list.

Next time, you're thinking of heading to your local chain restaurant to fill up your belly, take time to think about where you're going. Make it special because dining, is one of the best things that we share as human beings. It should be a wonderful time of sharing, getting to know people, and getting to know yourself. You'll discover new things you like, things you might obsess over for a little while, and things you'll never want to taste again. Take time to actually enjoy sitting in your chair, embrace the atmosphere, and stare at the person across from you, take a mental picture, because in the grand scheme of things - it is a blessing that they are sitting there with you. Pay attention to what they enjoy, their reactions to certain things, and simply take in the dining experience. You'll get to know them a little bit better each time, something I believe my generation lacks of. We often fail to dedicate ourselves to getting to know someone, really. Real conversations, real meals, real time. After all, Bacchus had something right, " In a lot of good food, and good wine, there's a lot of truth."

Lyon and Rome can play host to those in search of the of the perfect, imaginary, little, unknown backstreet bistro where one can dine in the style of Louis the XIV. As for me, today, I consider myself priviledged and lucky to have found a place where I dined in the style of Louis XIV. Next time you go out to eat, I encourage you to find a place that offers a special exquisite item, check out for yourself if its the best you've ever had, order a glass of Lagaria if its available, take a mental picture of who's across from you, enjoy their company to the fullest, and take in the experience. I garauntee you'll be saying in the words of the Veronica's " I could get used to this."

A rock and a hard place

People (including myself) are often unreasonable, irrational, self-centered; forgive them ANYWAY. If you are kind, people may accuse you of selfish ulterior motives. Be kind ANYWAY. What you spend years creating, others could destroy overnight. Create ANYWAY. If you find happiness, others may be jealous. Be happy ANYWAY. The good you do today may often be forgotten, do good ANYWAY. Give the best you have and it may never be enough. Give your best ANYWAY. In the end, it was between you and God; it was never between you and them ANYWAY.

While I am used to my erradic, fast-paced lifestyle, there has been few weeks in my lifetime as uncomposed, spontaneous, and poignant as this week. I've been put in all types of positions where I've had to use my judgement, my conscience, and my heart. I've even been asked to play Dr. Phil or cupid by a suprise person. It's been a week of fantastic news, bad news, realizations, and what I like to call U-turns. The funny thing is that in all this sentiment, I've never had more interviews, photoshoots, charity conferences, radio segments, and television shoots all in one week while the restuarant has been off-the-charts busy. Don't get me wrong, I am not complaining because I consider myself priviledged to be doing my work, its just been fabulously chaotic.

I am sure you've all heard of the saying " a rock and a hard place." Well, maybe that would be the theme of this week. I believe we are put through tests in life, and its how we react, and overcome them, that makes us the people we are today. I also believe in fate- and that you can't cheat fate so it's up to us to make the right choices along the way, to make it a good journey. We'll arrive to where we are supposed to the easy way or the hard way so we must make the best of it.

Imagine for a second that you have a strong dislike for chocolate (hypothetically), through the years, you and chocolate have nothing in common, in fact, you don't see eye to eye on alot of things. You don't like all that chocolate stands for and what chocolate consumes its time with. You don't even like the few conversations you've had with chocolate. All of sudden, chocolate comes to you for help. What do you do? Do you turn your back on him? Or do you swallow your pride and lend a helping hand? Do you advise him exactly as you would yourself (from the heart) or do you keep it simple and brush it off?

Imagine for a second that a person who made your life miserable in high school, now crosses paths with you professionally, and their job depends solely on your decision to be part of a business organization or not... do you go with "eye for an eye" or do you turn the other cheek, and take on the business opportunity just to salvage their job?

Imagine for a second, there's a lady selling sunflowers on the corner of a busy intersection in the sweltering hot summer heat every single day. You see her day in and day out covered in sweat, holding her sunflowers trying to make an honest living. You reach for your pocket to buy the flowers...you take out a $20. Do you insist on the change that you'll blow on something stupid or do you opt for giving the small gift that might put a meal on her dinner table?

That was just a little bit of the chaos...lol. So in a time where it's easy to brush off someone, turn the other cheek, or seek and eye for an eye, or just use the excuse that we are too busy to help someone. This is what I found to be utimately true and what I live by everyday, even when you are between a rock and a hard place: " People (including myslef) are often unreasonable, irrational, self-centered. Forgive them anyway. If you are kind people may accuse you of selfish ulterior motives. Be kind anyway. What you spend years creating, others could destroy overnight. Create anyway. If you find happiness, other may be jealous. Be happy anyway. The good you do today may often be forgotten. Do good anyway. Give the best you have and it may never be enough. Give your best anyway. In the end, it is between you and God, it is never between you and them anyway.

And if you're curious about the choices I made....I helped out the chocolate as best as I could. I took on the business opportunity, and I didn't ask for the change.

Afterall, to me, it's about making it count....

Shangri- La

Shangri La.... the mystical earthly paradise of the Orient, the Hymalayan utopia, and the fictional permanent happy place in Tibetan scriptures that depicts a beautiful azalea garden. The Garden of Eden, if you will, hidden from and treasured by modern man. But Shangri-La was not oceans nor continents away from me on this exquisite dinner. Shangri-La was situated at Hakkasan at the Fountainbleau for this uber-perfect dinner....or gastronomic journey...whichever.

Few things intrigue me and excite me as much as the fuse between cuisine and culture. It's that spark that allows me to travel to a foreign place via its food and tradition and I don't mean to sound cliche or like all those travel channel guys - But there is truth to this amazing taste trek.

Hakkasan is voted as one of the top 50 restaurants in the world, rated AAA four diamond, and I was there to see if it would live up to the hype? Come on, let's face it, most restaurants nowadays are let downs but this one, would prove this theory wrong...........finally.

This unforgettable meal started with these bold, slightly daring, exotic martinis called the Hakka and Lost Heaven laced with flavors of lychee, passion fruit, nashi pear, guava, coconut milk, tequila, and Russian standard Vodka. They made Cosmos look like babies in their diapers. A few sips of these bad boys and you knew you were in some kind of Shangri La for sure. All I could do was sit there in awe of the decor and ambience trying not to be swept away by its aura.

"Here's the dim sum platter, " the server softly voiced over the contemporary Asian music. On the menu it simply reads "Dim Sum Platter" therefore you do not know what's in store. Is it pork? Is it crab? Or is it vegetables? What it should read is " Ridiculously, Insanely, Amazing Dim Sum" I can say this because I have been priviledged enough to eat at the dim sum capitals in the country, New York City, San Franscisco, and Los Angeles, not to mention my little stint at the Mandarin Oriental where I was surrounded by dim sum on the daily. However, this Dim Sum was in a catergory all its own. The pungeant flavors, the precision in the density of the steamed wrapper, the freshness of the ingredients, were all factors in making this the best dim sum I've ever had.

Corn-fed Chicken and Jellyfish....WTF??? Yes, Jellyfish and guess what? It was delicious! I'll admit, I was bit apprehensive at first, being a jellyfish virgin and all, but with a little open mindness and strong curiosity, this attested the notion of "don't knock it, till you try it." The texture and flavor is similar to seaweed so imagine having a seaweed salad or something similar. Next, I enjoyed a fried softshell crab with Chili and Curry leaf which turned out to be perfectly fried crispy, not greasy, and full of flavor. Now remember, inbetween bites and dishes were the sips of the Hakka and Lost Heaven elevating the experience more and more. I felt like I was about to ....???? Kidding, but I do confess that I had to brace myself for the star of the evening - Ostrich! Yes, I'm talking about the huge bird with the long neck that's super awkward and kinda funny even just to look at. Boy, is ostrich delicious. It tasted just like beef tenderloin. Following the orgasmic overload of deliciousness, was a crispy duck roll. Truthfully, I am not a fan of Chinese five-spice because I don't "usually" enjoy cinnamon and other strong spices in my food, but I use the term "usually" because this time, Hakkasan made me enjoy Chinese five spice. The duck was moist and crispy; and oxymoron by nature and the wrapper was delicate and crunchy.

Now that brings us to the grande finale, and my head feels like it's about to explode from epicurean euphoria (something I am proudly addicted to), a white chocolate mousse with a passion fruit sorbet. If you read that sentence over again, atleast the part of white chocolate mousse with passion fruit sorbet, it sounds so modest and noble. NOT! This dessert deserved a standing ovation. The rich velvetty white chocolate mousse, with a delectable brown sugar crust complemented the sweet and sour passion fruit sorbet. The passion fruit sorbet was so vibrant and fresh, it felt like a firework in my mouth. Actually, it was like 4th of July in there. I was very close to getting out of my chair and giving it a round of applause before I realized that would have been categorized as wierd by other diners. Honestly, at that point, I didn't care what was wierd or not. I had just experienced what few ever get to even dream of experiencing. The food, the ambience, or the smile across from me...I don't know which one it was that had me high but the fact remains, I was high. As my quest through Asia came to an end, I realized few meals are as wonderful as this...I had experienced my very own version of the paradise of the Orient, the Hymalayan utopia, the permanent happy place in Tibetan scriptures. With every bite, every sip, and every look, Shangri La was at Hakkasan on this day, and now as I look back on it, it was a Lost Heaven....or just heaven...whichever.

I hope that's me

There's a few times where special things happen that most of would like to say at some point, " I hope that's me." At 6 years old, we see a superhero or princess on tv or in a storybook, and we say " I hope that's me" with an innocent aspiration that one day, we will fly above the earth or wave a wond and wear a crown. At 13, we see our first crush with someone else during lunchtime, and we think, " I hope that's me." From 15-17 years old, we watch movies like Fast and the Furious or Can't Hardly Wait, and say " I hope that's me" in anticipation of that car, or that guy; the new mustang, being popular, and wearing the right clothes has your head spining. As highschool comes to a close, you begin to think about your future, what you'll be, what will make your parents proud, and what will give you the life you've always dreamed about. Even though you'll think about those things, its not until voting for your prom king and queen that'll have you wishing, " I hope that's me." Before you know it, you're like Asher Roth and you love college, and road trips to Daytona and endless games of beer pong have you saying, " I hope that's me."

Then one day, all of a sudden you're stuck in an early morning class getting over last night's festivities, and the beaming sunlight through the classroom window reminds you of the days when you were little, and you splashed around having fun in an inflatable pool full of dad's hot air, and it made you think how much he loved you to fill up that pool with his breath, and that made you think " I hope that's me" one day.

At 23, you're graduated and it's the first day of your first job as what you studied to be, and you look at your boss and you plan in a few years, " I hope that's me." Now you're 25 and head over heals with enough sense about life, and they get a cold, someone's got to run and get them nyquil and soup, you say to yourself, " I hope that's me. " Now, every Valentine's Day comes around, and someone's got to get all dressed up for an unforgettable night and your heart says, " I hope that's me." Now, you go to your first wedding as an adult, and you look at the happy couple starring into eachother's eyes as they say I do, and all the moments flash in your mind, how you met, the magic that lays between the both of you, and as he lifts her vail the world stops for a second, your soul says, " I hope that's me."

A few years ago, when I went to my first Chef's Congress in New York City, I was merely 21 years old, I remember seeing all the star chefs representing their restaurants. They were proud, shining of their craft, it was something that made them stand out from the masses. I remember walking and tasting all of their dishes, and wondering, how much work and effort did they undergo to get there? I remember standing there as an outsider, as a fan, as a student, and thinking that my admiration at that point was a testament to their passion, and I stood inspired for the rest of my life. They were successful at the riskiest business in the country, and I thought that day at 21 years old, " I hope that's me."

I am so grateful for all I have seen and done in my life up to now, and excited for what's to come, but that only leaves one thing to hope for. When I am old and gray, sitting on a front porch on a swinging bench, remeniscing of all the crazy wonderful stories my life allowed me to experience, laughing to tears at some of them, holding a Pellegrino water bottle in one hand, and looking at the person who allowed me to share the most beautiful lifetime possible, the person who gave me a reason to be better, the person who gave a definition to the things we hope for. As we swing, as we'll remember everything, I'm thinking now, " I hope that's you."

Sublime Wavelength

I'll never forget the first time I didn't eat with you. Yes, I said I "didn't" eat. I think it was nachos....

Have you ever stopped to think about the sublime moments in life, the ones that seem too good to be true, 10 feet off the ground, or you have to pinch yourself to make sure you're not dreaming? Being a chef, of course some of these moments revolve around food in some form. Nonetheless, to me, food cannot be completely spectacular without someone great to share it with. Something I like to call a sublime wavelength. There is something remarkable about the euphoric suspense of experiencing a new restaurant, a new dish, something foreign or strange, an exalted wine, or something noble and close to home that everyone is raving about. You know that feeling...you know what I am talking about.

I love all kinds of foods; I'm into all types of Asian cuisine, I consider myself a hotdog conisseur, and well, if it's Mexican, it's got me all over it. Like a little kid at Christmas, I anticipate a great meal, like a child anticipates Santa Clause. While this might spell out nerd for many people, for me, its quite brilliant to spend a couple of hours with someone and get one-on-one time. It's usually around a table, sharing something good, that great conversations rise. Some famous philosopher once said that you'll get to know a person's best qualities sitting around a dinner table - and well, I agree. Around a dinner table, you'll see if someone is daring, you'll see if they are conscientious, if they are well mannered, if they have a sense of humor, if they're cultured, and if you're sharing a bottle of wine, you'll see their views on anything from politics to love and everything in between.

Going to an exotic or interesting place can mean traveling without leaving your seat. I know I am not the only one that imagines themselves in Japan, while they're in a great Japanese place or in Italy when they're eating a rustic Italian dish. All jokes aside, sharing a great dining experience with someone special can be phenomenal and unforgettable. I remember one time we sat outdoors in this small but highly reccommended posh-posh restaurant, the sun was beaming off the blue sky making it warm on a winter day, we ordered Japanese oysters and a lobster po'boy. No oysters have ever been that good, but I still don't know if it was the setting, the company, or the oysters? But I sure feel lucky to ask myself that question. Another time, we were oceanfront in a cantina, eating the best chicken wings on earth, I'm at a loss for words here. And I can't forget the time, we picked up stone crabs and champange to eat at the very edge of Key Biscayne. See what I mean about a sublime wavelength? Grab someone who's on the same wavelength as you, go out there and enjoy the great restaurants your city has to offer, taste things you've never tasted before, don't be afraid to get to know your server just a little (you might learn something - atleast about the menu - if not, they'll entertain you somewhat.)

But most importantly, next time you're out somewhere, it could be at a burger joint or a 5-star place, don't forget to pay attention to who's sitting right across from you. Pay attention to their stories, their reactions to the foods, what they pick off the menu, if they smile at the server, because there is something magical about sharing a meal, trust me. In a fast paced world where our minds are on everything but what actually matters, there's one thing we can keep slow and special, Baucchus and Robert Mondavi both couldn't be wrong about the finest things in life.

A million bites later, a thousand stories ago, and hundreds of restaurants under our belts, I still remember the first time I "didn't" eat with you. I think it was nachos....and it was the beggining of foodie oddessy....a sublime wavelength.

"Whatever you're on, I would like some too?...please share!"

Fortunate, lucky, priviledged...all of the above. It was a day out of a movie, a novel, a song, whichever. It seemed like a good choice to start the day by basking around in a zero-edge rooftop pool in between sunbeams and clouds with a cold beer; something that should be somewhat illegal for a Monday.....followed by an enchanting nap in the sand- oceanside with the sounds of the waves, birds, far away conversations, and the salty air embrassing your skin. And here come the cinematic effects: we were only awakened by flawless, unspoiled ocean rain moving in.

Mondays don't mean the typical "back in the grind" begining of the work week, I hate life, shoot me I'm going to work, Monday. While most of the country's population dreads mondays, to me they mean rendezvous, tryst, bliss therefore, this dinner would not fall short of any of these. Let me tell you about this dinner...

It could have been the zen mood from the perfect beachside siesta, the anticipation of a four star meal, or the decor of the gothic cathedral meets modern luxury. I don't know what it was, but we were on such a natural high that the server came up to our table and closely whispered, " whatever you're on, I would like some too. Please share. " . As we made our way around a bottle of Champagne, three appetizers, one soup, two special entrees, dessert, and 20 year old Port, I couldn't help myself, the smiles and giggles were abundant and superflous. It was obvious to our server that we were having a wonderful time, so much that it was contagious to him as well. Steak Tartare, Lamb Spare Ribs, White bean Dim Sum, Lobster Bisque, Soft shell Crab, Indonesian Prawns, Basil Mashed Potatoes, Ginger-candied Carrots, pickled Green Onions, Marbled Chocolate and Grand Marnier Soufle, all of this entwined with conversations of flavors, greek philosophers, and one of my all time favorite activities ---- people watching. As we looked around, no one in the dining room seemed as happy as we were to be there. You could easily say the party was definetely at our table. Some of the customers even looked dreary and upset to be dining at a beautiful four star restuarant. Some, I guess need a makeover- a life makeover that is. As for me, I was sipping that last bit of Port extremely slow because I didn't want the magnificent dinner to end.

Fortunate, lucky, priviledged? Yes. Blessed, thankful, grateful? Even more. I felt so blessed because for that moment, for that span of time, during that dinner, we were feeling so happy/so good that it poured right out of us and became infectious to others. Almost envied. That's why we were asked, "whatever you're on, I would like some too." The way I see it, life is to be lived that way, enjoyed that way, and shared with someone that way...so that others might ask you what it is that you're on?

Greenstreet, Serendipity, and Airplanes

I do not know if it was the steamy sunshine of the morning, the red velvet antique couches, the sparkling mimosas, or the idea of it being a holiday and everyone's carefree attitude that attributed to all the serendipity in the air. Maybe its one of these or its all of these that made breakfast, brilliant at Greenstreet Cafe this morning. Incredible, starving, insatiable, magical adorned the place and reflected how I felt upon entering.

A twenty minute wait meant going to the whimsical bar decorated with tiny white clay men doing some type of ballet or gymnastic excerise (pretty interesting if you ask me) to order mimosas. They were simple and perfect consisting of the "just rite" juice to champagne ratio. As I looked around, while the drinks were being made, I couldn't help but think that this is an ideal place for those who have lost touch with their sense of wonder. Was I in a scene from Alice in Wonderland? except this scene had omlettes and pancakes in it?.....

Now, fifteen minutes to kill meant sitting on the antique red velvet couches with mimosas in hand, an experience all its own, but this one would be different because instead of people watching, it seemed as if we were yorkie watching. Yes, you read correctly...yorkie watching. Almost everyone had a miniature yorkie by their side. Someone even had three. When the fifteen minutes were up, we were escorted to our petite, wrought iron table, outdoors, reminiscent of those somewhere crossed between central park and Paris. There, we sat surrounded by bustling servers, vacant conversations, and great food.

Hmmmmm, what to order? Honestly, I couldn't even pay attention to the menu because all my other senses were so occupied. The final verdict - a goat cheese and tomato omlette accompanied with a bagel and the best cream cheese I've ever had. The food took quite a bit but that didn't matter, it could have taken all day if it were up to me, that moment spelled out "happy to be here" in every form, and in every language. There are many moments in life that go unnoticed, ignored, or taken for granted but this one was just one of those that couldn't go in that direction. Breakfast was taken to completely new level, unexpectedly. After devouring the delicious omlette and bagel, we were off to whatever the rest of the day would bring us.

All of a sudden, B.O.B's new song "Airplanes" comes on the radio during the ride home..." Can we pretend that airplanes in the night sky are like shooting stars, I could really use a wish right now, a wish right now, a wish right now. " As the song went on and on, I asked myself, " Could I use a wish right now?" the answer that rushed to my head as I looked to my right, "no."

I do not know if it was the steamy sunshine of the morning, the red velvet antique couches, the sparkling mimosas, or the idea of it being a holiday and everyone's carefree attitude that attributed to all the serendipity in the air. Maybe it was one of these or maybe it was all of these that made breakfast, Brilliant.

Wafel, not Waffle!

These days, I find myself craving a Belgium Wafel. The real kind if you know what I mean, fairly odd-shaped, crispy top, and perfectly decadent. The American waffle can be sort of limp, dense, and too sweet; the Beligium wafel prances around between airy, crisp, and it finds the precise balance between sweet and salty, making the maple syrup (its partner in crime, it's Bonnie) stand out impeccably.

There's something nostalgically pleasing about a warm, buttery Belgium wafel drizzled with pure maple syrup, and homemade whipped cream, and maybe, just maybe some fresh ripened strawberries.

For the sake of novelty, Belgium wafels translate into sitting in a picturesque outdoor cafe in Brussels, in wrought-iron chairs, a glass of good Champagne, the somewhat cool/somwhat caressingly, warm Belgium breeze, and those fabulous wafels. But for those not on that side of the globe and Brussels might seem like a far shot, tomorrow is Sunday.... some celebrate daylight on Sundays with a big breakfast --- Belgium Wafels sound like a great idea to me! Ok, if I could only find my waffle iron.....I might just be Crate and Barrels first customer tomorrow morning. LOL.

What we talk about ...when we talk about food

There's one question besides the predictable, "what do you eat?" that I get in every single social circle or interview - that is, "What do you talk about, when you talk about food?" Pondering this question, I had the chance to sit with four well-suited people at a Bertolli Dinner about a month ago; all of which were about 15 years my senior; all of which you could say were worldly jaded veterans of many high end restaurant meals and were no strangers to comped vintage bottles.

Without mentioning any names, I sat with the author of the bestselling book of the account of being Mario Batali's "kitchen bitch" (all you foodies out there know what book I'm talking about), one of the editors of Maxim Magazine, one of the judges from Top Chef, and one of the CEO's of Bertolli Olive Oil. As we sat in this dimlit restaurant ordering, criticizing, and enjoying almost everything on the menu, it seemed for a brief moment that the world was divided in two - those who were "food crazy" and those who were not. Afterall, I get excited about the orgasmic combination of balsamic braised onions and goat cheese. Some don't understand the enthusiasm but for me, enthusiasm for what you truly enjoy is great.

While the conversation ping-ponged between food politics, environmentalism, domestic cookery, and downrite cookbook nerdery, all I could think about was "cravability" . What is the fundamental reason why we enjoy eating, why we plan out celebratory meals, and why we can't stop thinking about that special bite? The answer is cravability. We enjoy the food we crave, the most. Despite the culinary scene's new developments in molecular gastronomy, I'm a firm believer in that we eat what we crave, what we like, what we enjoy. It's not in our nature to enjoy a steak in the form of nitrogen, bacon in the form of gelatin, or strawberries in the form of powder. While I admire these culinary scientists, Grant Achatz alike.. I bat for the team of Julia Child, Cindy Pawlcyn, and Emeril Lagasse - The craftsmen that make you lick your fingers, role your eyes back, and never let you forget how great it is to taste something like that.

I distinctly remember, Rick Moonen's sustainable seafood movement came up at the table, and I had to interrupt. Were we really talking about sustainable seafood for 20 minutes straight? Bored out of my mind, I blurted out, "So, what's the best salmon you've ever had? Tell me the details.." I got the guts to break the ficticious intellectual ice, and ask what was really on everyone's mind. We have five foodies together, now tell me, "The best you've ever had."

It might seem like an easy task to conjure up what five foodies would talk about in a roundtable discussion about food, but its not. One thing is for certain, if you're ever caught in a roundtable discussion about food with me, I won't participate in food politics, but I will ask you "what's the best you've ever had..." and I will share with you as well, what's the best I've ever had.

So.....what do I talk about when I talk about food?

The kind of food that makes you lick your fingers, role your eyes back, and make you never forget you tasted something like that.

Best/Worst First or First Best/Worst

From the beginning there has always been three questions of ultimate intrigue. The best? The worst? Your first? This could be in regards to a movie, a lover, a meal...or any memory at that. And anyone who wants to get to know you, will somehow ask you these three questions at any given point.

However, what happens when your best/worst/first transpire at the same time? Sparks...fireworks...and a whim of breathlessness as when these three collide, its a result of stolen moments, acts of defiance, and perhaps a recipe for the most unperfect perfection. Unperfect perfection??? you might ask. Try downing four refreshing watermelon - strawberry vodka drinks that invigorate your tastebuds as they serve as thirst quenchers in the 100 degree sun, poolside. So crisp and delicious and yet, weapons of mass destruction. The drink was called "Summer Affair. " That it was...illicit, forbidden, intoxicating, and mouthwatering. All joking aside, the scene could not be any better-neither could the company. The sun was bright and beautiful bouncing off the pool chairs and clear blue water, the noise of the tourists having fun, and the heat making you crave the "summer affair" in every possible way. Was it the music or was it the heat? But there was something so unexplainably good about that icy-cold fresh burst of watermelon dabbed with a touch of strawberry. The freshness lingered in your mouth. As time progressively passed, the sun changed points, I found myself saying "ok" to another one. It was simply too easy to say yes to something that good. It was as if the words were escaping me. It seemed natural and effortless to sip it inbetween bits of good conversation. The scene was flawless, the sun was striking, and the "Summer Affair" turned out to be my best/worst first - never having drank more than one drink poolside in my entire life. Nonetheless, that Best/worst first was worth it all because it reminded me for a second, that sometimes the best comes unexpected, and it might leave a consequence or two (splitting headache or upset stomach lol), but that just might be the marks of remembrance of something great. Perfect doesn't exist, but unperfect perfection...that was my "Summer Affair."

My Gastronomic Magnum Opus

Before I fell in love with Paris's romance with food, wine, and laying on bright green lawns in the middle of a sunny day, I have to say I was predisposed by thier stereotypes - cigarettes, fake dimples, accordians, and berets. And there are many more to say the least. Thankfully, with the exception of the cigarettes, they were mostly incorrect.

One stereotype however, was so spot on, that it was hilarious! I cannot count the times I have seen Parisians in films racing around the city with groceries on one arm and a bitten baguette on the other. The French love their bread...and they should! Without eliminating the Italians, the French have some of the finest breads in the world. Fine boulangeries are to France what Starbucks are to America. They are everywhere!

If you think about it, a warm crusty baguette is the perfect accompaniment to any meal at any time of the day. It goes with butter and confiture or jam for breakfast, jambon fromage sandwich for lunch, and on a cheeseboard or on the side of a glass of wine for dinner. But it wasn't till I collided with this masterpiece, that I was completely taken away...and taken away forever-at that. Imagine a grilled slice of baguette about 1/2 thick cut on a bias, lightly buttered and salted. As soon as the edges start to brown, it comes off the grill. Immediately, French Goat Cheese is spread onto the sizzling hot grilled bread, and here it comes.......topped with Balsamic braised Onions. Slightly sweet, tangy, and savory all at the same time. Then, the lusciousness of the goat cheese makes every single bite, oppulent and almost too much for your mouth to handle. Two seconds after you swallow your first bite, it is a MUST to pair this gastronomic magnum opus, with a good red wine - my favorite right now is O'Brien Seduction. This powerhouse couple is a match made in heaven. Trust me when I say you haven't lived 'till you've tasted this. Even if you aren't into red wine, this will make you become infatuated with the nectar of the gods.

Ever since I tried this mouth-watering work of art, I have found myself eating it 5 or 6 times a week, for meals, and inbetween meals. I day dream about it. But one thing is for certain, when I am fortunate enough to enjoy it, sitting down sipping on that glorious glass, I am transported to a plaid blanket picnic setup on that bright green lawn in the middle of a sunny day in Paris and I get it....I get why the Parisians race around the city with groceries on one arm and a bitten baguette on the other.

The Drink that made America Smile

Everyone likes a freshly made, chilled lemonade so cold it makes the glass sweat like crazy on a hot afternoon. But where and how did this timeless, iconic drink originate? Few drinks carry such history and represent American culture at its best. If you think about it, Lemonade represents many things. Some more obvious like steamy summers, car washes, lemonade stands, fairs, and childhood. Some more obscure like the memory of a welcoming home party for a vietnam soldier, the winning of a highschool baseball game, or perhaps a Memorial Day bbq on the lawn and mom coming out through the doors with a tray full of solo cups. Whatever the case may be, we can't deny that lemonade has been aiding our thirst through the decades but has also served up quite a bit of nostalgia.

As far as history goes, lemons were discovered in Egypt and according to scriptures the first documented lemonade was there. Then, as the lemon migrated, there were different types of lemonade all over the world. In western Europe, there is "clear" lemonade (limonade) which is lemon applied to unsweetened water. In America, we have "cloudy" lemonade which is lemon applied to sweetened water (water, sugar, lemon). In France and Italy, there is "fizzy" lemonade which is lemon applied to sweetened carbonated water - my personal favorite.

Lemonade didn't serve just as a thirst quencher, during the Great Depression it helped get meals on the table for families. It was during that time that the first lemonade stand came about. Children set out in their neighborhoods with plywood and cardboard to sell lemonade for 10 cents a cup during the summer. In Europe, children would saddle a tank of lemonade to their backs and sell cups to their commadres on the streets.

Whether you look at lemonade as a sweet and sour thirst quencher or the drink that made children businessmen during the summers, one thing we all agree on is that lemonade is synonymous with main street, the good old days, the honest man, a southern drawl, two-star towns, beauty queens, and worn sports champions. It was the drink that was with us in prosperity and in poverty. When America was at it knees, and when its was at its brightest.

And now, you can find lemonade in many forms - powdered, pink, frozen, or freshly squeezed and the base for many cocktail drinks. In whichever form you consume it, lemonade will always be the drink that made America smile.

A Border Paradox

I've been to a lot of places. I've seen alot of things. But no place has so utterly confounded me, intimidated, horrified, amazed, sickened, depressed, inspired, exhausted, and shown me - with every passing minute - how wrong I was about everything I might have thought only an hour previous. This is a place so close to our country and yet so fleeing from our image. This is a country where you could literally watch civil drug wars on the street so brutal, so surrealistically violent as to defy imagining, where drugged gunmen dressed in wedding gowns and wigs hacked their way into pawn shops and taquerias right infront of me. It's a place where you must fight to live everyday and almost nothing is left of the functioning but a deeply corrupt and unjust society where poverty and violence reign. A place where vengeance roams the streets and justice is a luxury few can afford. Where graffiti, ruins of once called buildings, and tall palm trees is the only landscape you see as you cross the border into Tijuana, Mexico. And it was there, in Tijuana, Mexico that I had the best frozen yogurt in my entire life.

It is commonly agreed upon that Tijuana is not iconic for food. That is why it was of such surprise to me to find this amazing yogurt in a place where you'd be lucky to find old out dated blue bunny ice cream. At the end of a narrowing street, heading towards the lighthouse, and onto the pacific ocean, lays a large restaurant on the edge of a mountain cliff amidst beautiful flowers, plants, cactus, trees, and shrubs called EL Yogurt Place. However, El Yogurt Place is not just a yogurt shop. It's 125 seat Health Food Restuarant serving up some delicious vegan cuisine. I would have been satisfied with a cooling cup of strawberry frozen yogurt in the 115 degree heat but what I got was a shock of luscious creaminess that coated my tongue until it slowly dissapated. The flavor of natural strawberries was bursting through the creaminess almost tickling my mouth causing a pucker. This had triple the flavor of any ice cream or yogurt I had in the states. It must have had an insane amount of real strawberries. It was so rich, I could almost chew it slightly. Adding character to the yogurt, although it definetely didn't need any, was a thin drizzle of organic honey. As the honey freezes on the top of the yogurt, it leaves this interestingly fun texture contrasting the creaminess of the yogurt. Maybe it was making it that much better? I don't know. But I do know that it was hands down the best yogurt I've ever had in my life. That's a lot to say about a place where you sort of go into holding your breath, grateful for a Coke, and the last thing you'd expect is taste something so spectacular, you'd never forget. For some, the streets of Tijuana mean graffiti, guns, and drugs. For me, it will forever mean the Best Frozen Yogurt I have ever had. I think in a lifetime, there are a few unforgettable spoonfuls, if you're lucky........many. This was undoubtedly one of them.

Best of the Best

Last week I was lucky enough to have an intimate experience with Food Network's South Beach Food and Wine Festival. I was on-stage, backstage, and everything in between. Surprisingly, one of my favorite events was Wine Spectator's BEST of the BEST held at the Fountainbleau . Throughtout a four day spread, there are fabulous events jammed packed with food-euphoria; Burger Bash, Bubble Q, Luna en Fuego, Patron Party, and too many wine tasting's to count. Furthermore, throw in a few soirees and tribute dinners to bump up what already seems to be the last form of legal, sinful adult fun. In many ways, Best of the Best is to the food world what Art Basel is to the art world. For a mere $1,000 per head, you get to taste the best of the country all in one shot (as per Wine Spectator) as you make your way around the luxurious Fountainbleau pools, and to the beach.

Among the treats were the World's top Champagnes - Henriot, Dom Perignon, Riunart, Moet & Chandon; Wineries included Antinori, Caymus, Joseph Phelps, Jarvis, Mumm, and Nickel and Nickel just to name a few of the heavy hitters. To complement the libations were the works of some of the most notable chefs in the world. So if you've ever wondered what made chefs like David Burke, Lidia Bastianich, and Douglas Keane legendary? This was the chance to find out.

As I entered the glamorous hotel adorned in photographs of food and wine, I realized I was entering a place of promised gastronomic excellence and that's exactly what was delivered. I had a chance to embrace the extraordinares of my career.

The first dish I tasted was a foie gras bon bon with a quince champagne gelee on a cracked pepper shortbread, followed by Satsuma glazed pork belly, and lobster with burratta. My tastebuds were on a rollercoaster ride from planet Delicitron (lol delicious). Not to mention Charlie Trotter's famous 72-hour braised oxtail that honestly, made you want to lick your fingers, even if people were looking. This was culinary insanity and delirium at its peak! And I was enjoying myself to the fullest. A couple of tastings of Joseph Phelps, Jarvis, and Moet and Chandon's imppeccable Cuvee - I was a happy camper and my inner fat kid was out of control.

Being able to taste "fabulous" and "wonderful" on small tasting dishes, and sip on some of the finest liquids on the earth, was an experience of a lifetime. One that I will never forget and will set to inspire me for a long time to come.

So what happens after you taste the BEST of the BEST? ...... Get your apron on, rock-n-roll, and and create something BETTER! I gotta feeling it's going to be a delicious year.

Wine-Trotting Confessional part1

There is definetely something to say about a trip to Wine Country California. There is how the trip really happened... and then, there is how I remember it. You know Bacchus - the original inspirer of ritual madness and ecstasy- the god of wine- is around when there is an over-indulgement of pleasure and lose recollection of events to go along with it. The Greek god believed solely in great wine + great food = Ecstasy. Aside from sex, food and wine were of the highest of human indulgences and he sure knew what he was talking about. So this is my expedition through wine country with Bacchus as my tour guide. In these words lay the enchantment, splendor, and passion that is entwined in the vines of the Valley.

After a six hour flight from Miami to San Francisco, I was about ready to pop out of my seat! Having listened to the same song on my ipod over 30times (wouldn't you like to know what that song was?) and reading US weekly front to back, had me at the verge of insanity. I was eager to get this project started afterall, I was there to film a couple of segments on the topic of "Why I decided to open a wine-country themed restaurant in Miami?" We retrieved our bags, realized how cold it was through the airport sliding doors, and went for the rental car. A short drive from SFO to the Hyatt Regency at the Embarcadero, would have us hungry enough to film our first segment entitled, "What DIM SUM has Maximum Flavor in the largest China Town in the country?" It was fun and wierd. And did I say WIERD? I tasted things I had never tasted or ever imagined of tasting and then there were the things I've longed to taste for a while now, like the BBQ Pork Buns. Now, I know what you're thinking when I say, "BBQ pork buns" - you're thinking middle America, smokey, and sweet. How about this for a change: It's a handmade fat-free dough that's steamed with super tender pork butt folded into the center. The pork butt is slow cooked in hoisin (chinese BBQ sauce) garlic, and ginger. FANTABULOUS! The texture, the flavor...oh...the way the steam hits your nose when you take your first bite. In my book, everyone should have at least one BBQ Pork Bun in their lifetime.

It wasn't even 3pm yet, and I had flown across the country and knocked out our first segment. Thank God for time zone changes and the three hour favor. It was now time for some sight-seeing. The job has its perks I must say. In my opinion, there is no better way to see a city and really get to know it, than using the best transportation there is - your feet. We walked ten miles from the Embarcadero to Fisherman's Wharf and back and perhaps it was one of the most beautiful walks I have ever taken. I had one of the greatest cities in the country to my left and the majestic San Francisco Bay to my right. Alcatraz, the Golden Gate, and the Bay Bridge all decorating the deep blue waters. I was taking steps along the second busiest area of traffic in the United States - the first being Grand Central Terminal in New York City. The Embarcadero was the waterfront roadway to many historical events and not to mention, site to many Ernest Hemingway novels. There you had it...the Navy Ships and Submarines, the famous Ferry Building, the Aquatic Park, Cupid's Span, Market Street, the oldest Carousel, the Valliancourt Fountain, and most definetely, the world reknown cable cars. In that walk, I understood why Tony Bennett "Left his heart in San Francisco."

The more I walked the hungrier I got and I wasn't in the mood for a regular restuarant...How about a dungeness crab stand where you pick your live crab and they steam it right in front of you? Perfect! Fresh lemon, butter, and a Pellegrino Limonata to accompany it. I think I have been slipped the dream card. A stroll down the pier to the Delta Queen (an old historic steamboat docked at Pier 1 1/2) was just right as the dark night fell onto the bay. As we made our way back to our hotel, I asked myself , "Could this city really have more charm?"

To be continued...

Part 2 - 5:00am Drive to Napa Valley

Star-kissed Skies and Sparks

There's an awesome scene in Lawrence of Arabia where Peter Toole looks out into the vast, empty dessert and says, "I love the dessert..." I've always admired that particular breed of Arabists, Englishmen, spies, cartographers, scholars, and mischief-makers who fell in love with the 360 degree vistas of sand and sky they found in the middle east. I saw the same love up close in the face of a young man I met this evening at Barnes and Noble. I was scouring through the travel section and came across: The Egyptian Pyramids. I guess he saw I had a keen interest in Egypt and very shyly asked if I wanted to visit Egypt? YES!

We quickly entered into a vivid conversation about his life in Egypt, roaring around in a 4x4 Jeep, sleeping under the stars, and answerable to no one. The only thing in sight would be a fire crackling, throwing off sparks at a distance. His belly, full of delicious roasted lamb and surrounded as far as the eye could see by nothing but the dark rises of an ocean of sand. Those were the nights.

He told me that Egyptians are surprisingly friendly towards Americans and you actually hear a "hello" , "thank you", and "welcome" here and there. Speaking of surprises, the cab drivers are truly wonderful in an unbelievably crowded and unruly city where there are no traffic lights. There apparently seems to be a language of car horns, honks, coded beeps, and taps containing a large vocabulary of implications as the bumper to bumper cars intermingle with the floods of pedestrians. He explained to me how Pythagorus would have been dazzled to see the traffic pattern in Cairo. Enough about the traffic, give me food!

A typical dish of Egpyt is ful. Ful is smashed fava beans cooked in a copper pot with olive oil and garlic and served with large amounts of flatbread - referred to by the locals as "stone in the stomach." Precisely the solid style food needed for the daily adventures in the dessert. Since pharonic times, the poor and working class have filled up on the stuff as pretty much their principal meal of the day. If you're doing well monetary wise, you get an egg with it and perhaps some chopped pickled vegetables. The problem is most Egyptians aren't doing well, and most do not know what three meals a day is - Breakfast, Lunch, and Dinner. They just know Ful once a day.

Nonetheless, there is a place where traffic, poverty, and language does not matter. A majestic landscape designed by Imhotep, built by the Pharaohs, and considered to be the oldest monumental structures on earth: The Egyptian Pyramids. There are 138 discovered pyramids in Egypt but the best known ones are on the outskirts of Cairo, known as Giza. The most famous pyramid being Khufu, the largest of the pyramids at Giza and is the only one of the Ancient Wonders of the World still in existence today. The mystery and majesty of the Pyramids is beautiful and intriguing to me as they were built with the belief that they were steps serving as a gigantic stairyway for the soul of the deceased pharaoh to ascend to heaven. The shape of the Pyramid was designed to be representative of the descending rays of the sun.

Interested? Amazed? Perhaps....Is Egypt a place with a long magical past awaiting the future? I do not know that I will ever understand the Pyramids and its history, I do not know why a young man would take time to explain to me the beauty of his country in a Barnes and Noble store, and I do not know why there are certain places that plague our curiosity. However, after the travels I had with this young man by his extremely descriptive conversation about his homeland, I DO understand why the Arabists, Englishmen, Cartographers, Scholars, and mischief-makers fell in love with the 360 degree vistas of sand and sky....

For the young man, a night in Egpyt, meant a night with far away sparks under the star-kissed sky...

Fortune-Telling Picture

There's a picture I look at everyday.

For years I have been studying this picture giving it the time you'd give a masterpiece. Its truly a mesmerising picture: vivid, haunting, packed with detail and movement. There are days when its lifted me, inspired me, and driven me to move forward. If it had a title, perhaps it would be called life. It has the power to change a life. I can't measure its value to me and I didn't pay a penny for it. I can't imagine anyone else would want to own it. Its a picture that is on display but only has had an audience of one. It is a picture in my mind: one single, soulful memory of when I last shared a time in the kitchen with someone very special to me. A lingering memory that has been there with me from event to event, and kitchens to kitchens all over the place. Its a recurring image flashing in and out of my head as I have worked my way from one dimensional chef to author, speaker, and restaurateur. The image is invisible to the press, media, and critics. It feeds the child within me and is the foundation for the person I am today. It's a snapshot of a time of innocence, reverie, and fairytale hopes. A flash, as if it were lightning, where fate and prophecy collide.

It's that special person sitting around the counter, and I, not even old enough to do many things (I recall I still had braces) , making them a meal. At that point in time, I had not decided to become a chef yet. This was surely the first meal I had ever made for someone and it rendered that feeling of satisfaction chefs attain when they know they've made a wonderful dish. Ironically, it was purely unintentional and one of those moments where someone says, "I'm hungry, make me something to eat." So I put my game face on, and took a shot at it, afterall, doubt would not feed an empty stomach. I looked in the pantry, the refrigerator, and gathered my ingredients and equipment. Two hours later and a little bit of this and a little bit of that, I had created a semi-delicious meal for someone and it was by accident - or not.

That day, that person told me, "I hope you cook for me like this for the rest of my life. You should think about becoming a chef. But if you don't want to become a chef, whatever you do, do it with as much love, detail, and passion as you did this dish, today."

As one of my mentors once said (Thomas Keller), "We take one fundamental lesson we learn from our youth and apply it to everything we do later in life and this will translate into our cooking. A vision or memory will move us toward the pursuit of our dreams."

As fate would have it, I became a chef. Back then, even though I didn't know it, my life was being shown to me in one moment. It was beautiful. Cooking without rules, recipes, or guidelines. I was doing it to merely feed someone - a gesture of kindness, nuture, and nothing else. However, in its innocence and virtue lay a fortune-telling greatness.

Now, I still see that picture and it drives me. " I hope you cook for me like this for the rest of my life........whatever you do, do it with as much love, detail, and passion as you did this dish, today."

It's that picture that has taken me everywhere.

Paris

The year was 1945. The month was November. The city was Paris. The world had passed through the long darkness of the "war to end all wars" - World War II, and was now ready for the brief brilliance and frenzy of the Gatsby's. The city was filled with artists, writers, composers, army officers, journalists, businessmen, and diplomats all with one thing in common: a passion for Paris. They came from all different directions in search of romance, beauty, and a tender utopia where they were free to kiss in the streets, hold a glass of champagne, and dance on the cobblestone in the wee hours. Something they found in old flower markets, haute couture, bibliotheques of novels, a night a Les Halles, La Vie Moderne, Chocolateries, Maxims, La Vie en Rose, the Eiffel Tower, magical Bistros, quiet corners, and secret benches. Paris is the mecca for both romance and food alike. The Gourmet capital of the World. Afterall, Paris means Foie Gras, Charcuterie, Wine, Cassoulet, Croissants, Muille Fuille, Champagne, Truffles, Confit, Butter, Breads,and Tartars. There is something so enchanting about sitting outdoors on a cool spring day in a boulangerie or bistro at three o'clock, sipping a fine wine, munching on a crusty golden baguette with amazing butter. Followed by fresh oysters that burst in your mouth with a perfect mignionette, escargot with a magnificent garlic parsley butter that has the ideal balance of garlic to bread crumbs, steamed mussels with Pomme Frites that are to die for - so good you have to dip the fries in the sauce, Coq Au Vin that falls right off the bone, and finished with airy profiteroles filled with vanilla bean ice cream drizzled with a luscious, velvety chocolate ganache. The city passes you by in conversations, landscapes, and street muscians. The sounds, flavors, and words captivate you and you realize you have been transported to another dimension. A dimension of what life is supposed to be. A life you are in love with.

As lovers say in the movies, "We'll Always Have PARIS..." We've actually always had Paris. It's time to revist the magic and the flavor. I think we are all ready (once more) for the brilliance of the Gatsby's. The year is 2010, the month is January, the city is PARIS.