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.