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my life. cropped, blurred, resized, distorted and otherwise photoshopped.
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| Yesterday, Fort Greene Park.
Smif 'n' Wessun, Black Moon, Sean P., Heltah Skeltah, the whole Boot Camp Click.
  
Coming up: Roy Ayers... Kurtis Blow... the Beatnuts... the Last Poets... if it wasn't for the weather, it wouldn't be such a bad summer to be in New York I guess.
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| A year or so ago I was over at Freeman's while it was still under construction. I think I had a can of Coors Light at the bar or something. A few weeks later, it opened and ever since then I haven't felt like battling the hordes of people trying to get a seat every night. I always wondered what type of people eat there. Were they there for the food? Or the drinks? Or because they knew about the worst-kept secret in the city's restaurant world?
Anyway, I'm here now. Late. Close to closing. After we'd exhausted three open bars in a row (but that's another story). I look around the crowd and decide that they don't look the type of people who care about food. I don't know what it is about them that makes me think so. Maybe it's just my prejudice against Freeman's smothering aura of self-conscious ersatz "uncoolness" projecting itself onto the crowd.
But since I haven't tried the food yet, I don't mention this to Katz yet. I'll try to go into this with an open mind. The food could still be good, even if the customers could care less.
The cocktails are supposed to be good. The bartender's supposed to have a passion for old-school drinks. I get a Cat's Eye, a mix of pisco, passionfruit puree, and orange juice. Tastes like passionfruit sludge. Milk and Honey need not worry about losing its title of cocktail king anytime soon. Even Employees Only, which has managed to mangle my drink the last three times, is better (when they get it right at least).
I order the pork chop.
I get a ham steak.
Now, they're both pig meat and all, but this is fucking diner food. Diner type food and diner quality food. There's nothing wrong with diners, but you don't pay $19 for a fucking ham steak, grits, and apple sauce.
There might be some irony intended with this dish, but I'm not really relishing it.
I don't understand why this place is always packed. There are a million other places in the city serving equally decent generic food that aren't anywhere near this packed night after night. Granted, the location is cool, but is that really a good enough reason to eat here? I mean, walk by, show it to your out-of-town friends so they think you know a cool little hidden secret, and then go eat somewhere else.
Clearly, I am not the target market here. I guess because I care a little bit about the food.
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| Jazzy Jeff rocked the house. He's so good I almost cried. What are all these other people doing running around calling themselves DJs?
Eli opened up with a decent set of his own. For a minute -- and just a minute -- we were thinking that it would be hard to top it. Of course, we were just being retarded. Jeff took it to another level. And it doesn't even matter that he was using Scratch Live.
Oh yeah, even ran into somebody I knew at the door. Thought she'd moved down to Miami. Guess she's back. Good thing, too. Saved us $10 each.
It occurred to me that APT is just about the only hip venue that doesn't seem to have its own compilation CD series, like "Sounds of APT" or "The APT Sessions" or some such thing. And it's really one of the few places that ought to have one. I really wish somebody had recorded Jeff's set.
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| I want to check out Little Branch -- the latest bar from the Milk and Honey cocktail mastermind -- because I got an email from the owner saying that it was open now, and I want to beat the Daily Candy hordes. Jeremy's agreed to tag along. But the place doesn't open 'til 7pm, and since Jeremy gets off work at 5pm, we've got some time to kill.
So we're wandering around the Village looking for a decent bar with a happy hour, thinking it shouldn't be too hard. But I don't spend much time in this part of the Village and for some reason the only thing we spot is a cheesy-looking place called Mixx. It's pretty empty, but they've got 2-for-1 well drinks, Cosmos, and apple martinis. I wonder why it's only girly drinks.
We sit down at the bar and the bartender takes our order and then asks us how we found the place. Um, well gee, it's only sitting right smack on 7th Ave South, with a big ol' windowed front...
Apparently they're doing some party here for some stupid pink liquer called X-Rated, and people start drifting in. I notice that the ratio seems to be pretty damn good, and I think to myself that whoever is promoting it was doing a pretty good job.
In fact, it's like all girls...
Jeremy leans over and whispers, "Have you realized that we're in a lesbian bar?"
Um. God, I'm dense.
Well, that explains everything. From the "XX" in the name, to the bartender wondering why we're here, to the lack of testosterone.
So. Little Branch. Nice subterranean location. Still a little rough around the edges. Some familiar faces, though, and definitely some familiar cocktails. Hope it doesn't get overrun anytime soon.
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| May 9, 2005
I'm probably about 12 hours too early for this sort of thing, but since everybody's working right now, I decided to wander around K-town, hoping to find a better alternative to burgers and fries for lunch. I'm actually craving some soon doo boo, but I'm kicking myself because I forgot to write down the addresses for Beverly Soon Tofu and So Kong Dong, which seem to have the best reputations.
So after half an hour of walking around hoping that I might run into them, I give up when I spot BCD Tofu on Western. I figure I might as well give it a shot, since I'm not having any luck trying to stumble across the others. There's something to be said for the convenience of multiple locations and 24-hour service.
Takashi and Eiko are taking me to Geisha House tonight. Takashi had asked what type of place I wanted to eat at, so I'd told him to just pick whatever he thought was good and/or interesting. Then we debated between trendy place and so-so food vs. good food but plain environs. In the end, he was like, wanna go to Ashton Kutcher's new restaurant, and I figured what the hell. Not because of Ashton Kutcher, but because I knew he meant Geisha House and I was curious to see if I would run into a certain infamous individual who'd left a trail of notoriety behind him in NYC -- first at Chin Chin, then Nobu, and then Megu -- and who had reportedly become the opening day GM at Geisha House. I'd heard stories about him at Chin Chin and Nobu, and I'd experienced him for myself at Megu, so I was perversely curious to see what he was up to over here.
So anyway, here I am strolling into the joint at 8pm on a Monday night and the place is dead empty. So much for being a hotspot. Okay, in its defense, they had just wrapped up filming something, so the entire restaurant had been cleared out, and maybe the place would fill up later on.
The spicy tuna on crispy rice looks just like Vela's, and I don't know if this is a standard dish somewhere, a remarkable coincidence, or pure plagiarism. It, like everything else, is just kind of blah. Totally edible, but in a "I'm hungry and it's just kind of there" sort of way. I don't find myself trying to cram in another bite.
Takashi remarks that he likes Matsuri better, which is odd because when we were at Matsuri, he remarked that there was much better Japanese food in LA. But I suppose back then he was comparing Matsuri to all other Japanese restaurants in general, not just the trendy ones. I'll just compare Geisha House to Katana and say that I like the latter better.
As we're finishing up, Takashi asks if I want to go somewhere else. Sure, I say. Maybe eat some more, he asks. Um, what? Ok, why not.
It's around 10pm as we're leaving, and the place only got about a third full. And the bar is completely dead.
Oh, and there was no sign of the guy I was hoping to run into.
I have no idea where Takashi is taking me, other than that it's some sort of Italian place called Ago. We walk in, and the difference is literally like night and day -- where Geisha House was dark and dead, Ago is warm and lively. All the more surprising since it's now well past 10pm.
As soon as we enter, the maitre d' greets Takashi by name and Takashi replies, "We, uh, don't have a reservation, is that okay?" The place is packed and I'm thinking we're gonna find ourselves nursing a few drinks at the bar. The maitre d' opens his mouth to deliver the news: "Oh no problem Takashi, would you like to sit inside or outside?" Color me impressed.
Walking over to the table, Takashi introduces me to the maitre d' as a friend from New York, and the maitre d' replies that they're going to be opening a location out here in the fall. Turns out it's going to be in Tribeca, on the same street that I live. Later I find out that De Niro and Weinstein brothers are involved in this joint, and it all makes sense.
We get a prime perch on the raised dining area near the window, which gives us a perfect view overlooking the rest of the dining room, the bar, and the patio. I sit back and let the two of them order another dinner -- bresaola, something that involves lots of cheese and shaved truffles, spaghetti alla bottarga, and wild mushroom risotto. Everything is absolutely delicious. Easily some of the best-tasting Italian food I've had in a long while.
It's also pretty pricey, and I can't let them pay again after having bought me dinner at Geisha House, and I know that if I offer when the check comes I will just end up losing the argument, so I excuse myself to go to the bathroom and instead head off to find the waiter.
"Want to get a drink somewhere else?" asks Takashi as we're finishing up dessert. "My friend told me that they recently renovated the bar at the Four Seasons, maybe we can check it out."
Okay.
We walk in and wander around the lobby, heading off to what seems like a bar towards the side. Looks like an ordinary hotel lobby bar. A bar in a nice lobby in a nice hotel, but a rather generic-looking hotel lobby bar nonetheless. We ask a passing waitress if this is the only bar in the hotel. Apparently it is. Hmm.
As we're heading back out through the lobby, I notice a ridiculously skinny, glammed-up girl rush past. She's quickly followed by two more ridiculously skinny, glammed-up girls. They look like they ought to be "somebody" but I have no idea who. And they're friggin' tiny.
Eiko notices them too and says, "Oh, that was Nicole Richie, right?" Really? I can't believe that would be her. I thought she was a bit chubbier looking in The Simple Life. Funny how ever since then, I've noticed how her rapid weight loss is like a non-stop subject in the tabloids.
If it seems like all I did today was eat, well, that's because that's pretty much true.
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| May 8, 2005
After leaving the Hollywood Renaissance, I check into the Roosevelt. I heard it's undergoing renovations and trying to have a second life as a hotspot, so I'm not quite sure what to expect, but apparently it's part of the same hotel group as the 60 Thompson back home, so that gives me some hope. The streetside entrance definitely leaves something to be desired, though. It's looking rather dilapidated, and as I step up to the doors, a swarm of flies hits my face.
Inside, the vast lounge area shows potential, but it's a bit of a trick to find the lobby, which is on the floor below, on the same level as the rear parking lot entrance (which I guess is the "main" entrance, but since it's facing the back lot, I don't really consider it to be the front entrance). Anyway, I check in, get my key, and head up to my floor.
There's a dead fly on the floor of my room.
I debate trying to take a short nap, but instead end up watching a bit of "Pirates of the Caribbean" on cable and then heading out to wander around town.
I eat lunch at In 'n Out and take some random pictures. I don't know why.
  
I can't believe how crowded In 'n Out is at like 2pm on a Sunday. I mean, I'm here cuz I can't get it back home, but I'm not sure how often I'd come here if I lived here. It's good, but it's still junk food.
Elvis lives. And he's Thai. And performs at strip mall Thai restaurant called Palms Thai on Hollywood Boulevard.
I suppose the novelty of this has long ago worn off for locals, but that hasn't stopped them from packing this place so full on a Sunday evening that we have to wait half an hour for a table.
For whatever reason (not any good ones), I never eat Thai food back home, which means I haven't really had any for years. Except for the Spice/Peep/Highline or Sea/Planet Thai variety. And even then, it's really infrequent. So this stuff seems pretty good, especially for the price.
I also like the crispy fried things with some sort of cream and coconut shavings that they make and serve at some shop a couple storefronts away.
Oh, and this is the first time I've ever seen valet parking in a strip mall. This too amuses me to no end. Makes me wonder what sort of quirks about New York that I take for granted make visitors to the city scratch their heads.
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| May 7, 2005
This is not good. Last night I went to sleep fine, feeling more or less sober, despite having consumed vast quantities of sake and Ketel One (in retrospect, I can't believe that I was trying to order soju at Hodori). But now I feel naseauous and I've got a splitting headache. I thought the suhl long tang at Hodori would've prevented this, but I guess it didn't have the magical anti-hangover properties that Gahm Mae Ok's seems to possess.
On top of feeling like shit, I've got to wake up and check out, and get my ass over to ![[info]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif) inherent's. I have no fucking idea how the hell I'm going to pull myself together for somani's bachelor party tonight. And here I am, the guy who organized a lot of it. How stupid would that be if I bailed?
Ugh...
So I've managed to recover and here I am checking into the Hollywood Renaissance. The receptionist asks for my name, I give it to her, and then we start to have problems.
"Okay, I see that the one bedroom suite that you requested isn't available, but I can offer you an executive suite instead."
Requested? Um, no, the word is RESERVED. "Is it bigger?"
"No."
"Does it have a separate bedroom?"
"No."
Uh, then why are you offering it to me? "Yeah, that won't work. I don't understand -- when I made the reservation, they didn't tell me that the room MIGHT NOT BE AVAILABLE when I checked in. In fact, when I made the reservation, the guy asked me whether I wanted a view of the hills or of downtown. Why would he even bother asking me if NEITHER ONE OF THEM IS AVAILABLE?"
The receptionist picks up the phone. "I need a rush clean-up job..."
"Thanks," I say, "How long do you think it will be before the room is ready?"
"About an hour. Just come back and look for me."
Okay, what are we supposed to do for an hour. Hmm well let's see if I've got any new email on my Blackberry. Oh look, there's something from the Hollywood Renaissance.
Subject: A Fond Farewell from the Renaissance Hollywood
We trust the stage was set appropriately for your recent starring role at the Renaissance Hollywood Hotel. You were our celebrity this past week and we appreciate your support.
The cast members of the Renaissance Hollywood, located in the movie-making capital of the world, wish you a fond farewell and look forward to your return engagement!
If, however, there is anything we can do to make your return engagement even more enjoyable, please email us back your script!
Man, I haven't even checked in yet and their computer system thinks I've left. As a matter of fact, there is something they can do to make things better. They're gonna be sorry I have an hour to kill. Time to fire up the thumbs and start typing...
I don't have much to say about dinner at Dominick's, except that hanger steak is not fish and if you're gonna order sliced hanger steak, can you please not get it well done? Even medium well is too much -- no wonder it isn't particularly good.
I'm not used to people eating and drinking so little. Six of us and we only went through one bottle of champagne (a 1990 Beaumont des Crayeres "Nostalgie", which was interesting) and no wine. I guess there'll be plenty of opportunities to make up the alcohol deficit later, but I think I'm going to be hungry.
I always forget what affogatto is.
Cramming four guys in the backseat of a Toyota Camry is not the way to ride.
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| May 6, 2005
It's my first time in LA in, I dunno, like eight years or so, and as I figure out how I'm gonna get from the airport to my hotel, my first instinct is to take the subway. Which is doubly weird because a) it's LA and b) taking the subway home from the airport would probably be the last thing I would do in New York.
I take the bus out from the airport to the Metro station, which turns out to be one of those elevated platforms that you'd find out in the outer boroughs of New York (except this one's still all new and nice looking). So I take my luggage up the escalator to the platform, only to discover that the ticket-vending machine is at the bottom. Who is the genius who designed this? And there's no escalator down, just stairs (well, there's an elevator at the other end of the platform, but I don't want to wait for it). So I haul my stuff down the steps to get my ticket, and discover that the machine doesn't take credit cards. Not that I don't have enough cash, but most of my $1 bills are pretty wrinkled and I don't want a shitload of coins in change if I use anything larger. I also kinda wish that there was some sort of 1-week pass, but I don't see that option. So while the subway here might be newer and nicer looking, so far it seems to be losing on the functional count.
I booked a room at the Downtown Standard because I'm a tourist and I wanted to see what the roof bar was like on a Friday night, and being a hotel guest is supposed to get me two passes to avoid any lines. I figured I'd check it out with inherent, but my plans were inadvertantly foiled by the fact that lunar_dragon decided to come down with somani a day before originally planned, and then Eric too. Of course, hanging out with all of them is more fun anyway, and yes I could just go check out the bar by myself at some point tonight, but that's no fun.
I get out of the subway station at Hollywood and Highlands, where inherent is supposed to pick me up and give me a ride the rest of the way to the restaurant where the five us are having dinner. As soon as I step out onto the street, I spot lunar_dragon and at the same time some girl approaches me and says, "Excuse me, do you mind if I take your picture?" Uh, what? "I do this zine and take pictures of people whose style I think is cool, and I saw you on the train and wanted to get a picture of you." Oh, okay, well, as long as it's alright with my agent...
As far as food at trendy Japanese restaurants go, Katana's isn't too bad. In these types of situations, I don't try to judge by authenticity or originality, because I don't really expect either. My standard for trendy places is pretty low, I guess. I just want something that tastes good and doesn't try too hard. Which is more or less saying that it's good as long as it doesn't suck. But really, I think the flavors are balanced and the ingredients are fine. Or maybe I've just had a little too much of this bottle of Dassai...
I tried to expand my friends' Japanese food vocabulary by ordering everything except sushi (robatayaki, kakuni, and briefly considered ankimo but figured nobody else would eat it), but we still end up with a large platter of rolls.
At the Good Luck Bar, lunar_dragon introduces us to two of his friends. I start talking to one of them, and I find out that she went to Parsons, which is cool, and she seems kind of interesting. But she's also kind of cute, so pretty soon Eric is all over her, and to avoid interfering with his game, I let him monopolize her time. Later I will regret doing this, once I come to realize how indiscriminate the guy is in his choice of targets, because if I continue to defer to him, then I won't end up talking to anybody who sits down to pee (because really, I've never had a wheelchair-bound friend).
It occurs to me that I don't normally have this concern, since most of the guy friends I hang out with back home have girlfriends, so even if we're all talking to the same girl, there's no need to be "chivalrous" and back off, because none one of us would be trying to hook up with her. And even if one of us was, we'd all know that he really shouldn't be, so we'd just be trying to do the right thing by getting in his way, ha ha.
They say you shouldn't really go to Hodori for the food, but that's exactly why we're here, cuz we're all hungry. I mean, would you go if you weren't hungry? So technically you really are going for the food... And again, since I'm a tourist in LA, going to Hodori late at night just seems like something I have to do, just like going to see the Yankees play the Red Sox. Drama all around.
So alright, I admit it, I'm here for the show as much as I'm here for the food.
The show's better, by the way.
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| Sometimes I find myself doing random, out-of-character things. Partly because I just want to see what it's like, partly just to see if I can get myself to do it, and partly because I must be bored. Not because I really give a shit, which might sound like a defensive, ego-coddling (or should we say, face-saving) excuse, and it might be, but oh well. It's more like, "let's see what this is like" and not so much "let's see what happens." Like sometimes I'll approach random girls in bars and whatnot. I don't really need another girlfriend, and while I don't really like being publicly humiliated, it normally isn't that bad whenever I get shot down, so from time to time I amuse myself by trying to talk to random girls. Some of my more pragmatic friends would be like, "what's the point of that?" but sometimes I get funny stories out of it, so to me it's usually worth it.
Another one of those pointless things I do happened about two years ago, when there was a casting call for some movie. I went, made a fool out of myself, didn't get the part, and mostly forgot about it.
Forgot about it until this past weekend, that is, when the movie finally came out and 4oclock and I went to go see it. It's pretty good, even though I'm not in it :-)
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| "Oh shit, that's Haze!" exclaims Jeremy. I'm glad he appreciates these things.
We're at a little party for the new issue of Educated Community. Which we almost didn't get into, because they didn't have 4oclock's rsvp down. And even though they had mine, and we arrived together, there seemed to be a bit of a debate as whether it was going to be okay to let her in. But we didn't argue, and they were nice and let her in. (Although I admit I found it a little silly. I can understand if you're worried about overcrowding and all, but if you're going to require that all rsvps be confirmed, then you should tell people on the invite that all rsvps must be confirmed. Not just post signs at the entrance telling people once they've already arrived. And if the list is full, then you should tell everybody who didn't make it that they didn't make it. Of course, I knew that they sent out confirmations, and I also knew that they sent out some rejections, but since 4oclock received neither, I really didn't know what her situation was and anyway that's knowledge that 4oclock wouldn't necessarily have if she was by herself.)
"Hey, doesn't that look like Masa, if he grew his sideburns all the way around?"
"Yeah, but Masa's not white."
"Oh yeah."
...
"Hey, doesn't that look like a shorter version of Brian?"
"Yeah, I saw him too."
...
"Hey, doesn't that look like Eva?"
"Yeah, I wouldn't be surprised if we saw Eva here."
Eva-lookalike walks by.
"Hi guys!" says the Eva-lookalike.
"Oh, hey Eva! Weird, it's really you."
Ricky Powell starts his slideshow and it's funny and cool for 15 minutes but after that it starts to drag along, especially when he starts to introduce every picture with, "Uh oh! Oh shit! It's my boy/girl ________! ... Why won't this fucking thing focus? Yo what the fuck man? I swear this fucking thing has a mind of its own... What the fuck?" After an hour of this, I just want it to end, no matter how much respect I might have for the guy for being there when hip hop was born.
Maybe I'm just imagining things. But some parties, you feel like the crowd's just consuming the culture. Sometimes the people don't know shit or aren't doing shit besides promoting other people's stuff, selling other people's stuff, or trying to cop a few free drinks (that would be me). These parties, it feels more like they're a part of making the culture. Jeremy seems to recognize that; maybe that's why he's digging the whole thing. Unfortunately, I don't think my other friends do, and maybe that's why they seem to be getting bored and want to leave. I dunno if they don't realize that these guys are the real deal or if they just don't care. It's probably the former, but I'm not good at educating people. I hope they picked up a copy of the magazine.
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| Okay so what have I been up to lately.
A hand on my shoulder and a girl's voice in my ear. "Hey, it'd be great if you could get the bartender's attention for me..." Um, ok, but you're a girl, you've got much better odds than me. But hey, whatever, I don't mind. I try to flag him down, glancing over my shoulder every once in awhile to make sure that the girl's still there to order, if and when I ever manage to get the bartender's attention. I'd feel pretty stupid if he noticed me and I ended up referring him to somebody who'd disappeared.
"I know you're trying," she smiles, putting her hand on my back. Yeah, that's not really why I'm looking at you. I just want to make sure you're still there. I wish the bartender would hurry up and get over here. I feel retarded that this is taking so long. Finally he heads over our way and the girl makes her order.
"Thanks," she says. "My name's _______." I tell her mine and we shake hands.
"We're sitting over there in the corner if you want to join," she says, and then picks up her drinks and leaves.
"How often does that happen to you?" asks Billy, who'd been next to me at the bar talking to 4oclock the whole time.
"How often does what happen to me?" I ask obliviously.
Walking down the street talking on my phone. "Do you know which way is Seventh Avenue?" Yes, I do, but do you always interrupt people like that, when there are plenty of other unoccupied people walking around you?
Back at Sachiko's on Clinton for the second time. I met Sachiko the first time around, about five months ago, and surprisingly she remembers me. The food's the same good but unremarkable fare, but this time at least the drinks are all free, thanks to Keiko.
Later we head up to Openair for Mizue's friend's birthday, or something like that. I don't really know Mizue that well, but I tag along anyway, since it seems like Jeremy will be almost as unrelated as me and worst case we can keep each other company, best case we meet some new people. When we get there, I discover that the place has apparently turned into Morissey Park. The name doesn't sound promising, but once the door opens, I hear good hip hop, so I put away my doubts.
Turns out it's Mizue's friend's boyfriend's birthday. Okay, whatever. Mizue goes over to say hi, but there's no room left where they're all sitting, so Jeremy and Keiko and I just hang out by ourselves across the way. Pretty soon Mizue joins us over where we're sitting.
Later on, 4oclock joins us with Vince, Cat, and this girl named Elaine. Shortly after, Mark, Jeremy #2, Brian, and Christy show up, and I start to feel like we've kinda hijacked this little birthday party. But whatever, it's like my friend's friend's friend's boyfriend's birthday, so as far as anybody should be concerned, I should just be like another random stranger at the bar.
Then 4oclock discovers that her wallet's been stolen and just as soon as we've filled this place, we empty it out.
Sitting at the bar and sampling all the new desserts at Mas. The bartender starts chatting with me (I think in part because she's relieved that she no longer has to deal with the hefty, balding, middle-aged guy who ordered a bottle of wine for himself and was trying his best to engage her in constant conversation).
"So how do you know ________?" she asks.
"Oh, we used to both work over at __________," I reply. I elaborate, then she has to run off to make a drink.
The hostess sidles up. "Oh, you used to work at ___________?" she asks.
"Yeah... why? You too?"
"Oh no, I've just been there a few times. It's a fun place," she smiles. "I met a guy there once."
I cock my head at her.
"Actually... I picked him up," she says slyly. "...It was kind of an accident." There's that smile again.
Well, accidents happen, I suppose.
Running through the rain without an umbrella. "Excuse me, can you tell me where J&R is?" asks some clueless guy. Normally I'm happy to give directions, but in this case I wish this idiot could find somebody with an umbrella to ask. Like one of the half a dozen or so who are walking right past him. "That way," I wave, without breaking stride. What is it with people these days?
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| Tuesday night. At a party at Hiro.
A bunch of us are sitting around a table hanging out when some guy slides up and mentions something about an after-party for Paper going down over at PM. He hands us an invite and tells us to drop his name at the door. I ask him if there's going to be a sponsored bar. Cuz, like, it's an open bar here. He replies that there'll be pretty people. Um, so that's like a no, I guess. He tries to assure us that it will be much better than this party. Dude. You oughtta watch what you say, you never know who you're talking to... what if I was a friend of the promoter here?
But since we've been here for awhile already, curiosity gets the better of us and we head over to PM to see what the deal is. Even though it's Tuesday night, they've still got the velvet rope out in full effect and from the looks of it, it's not just for show. We see a couple of folks get turned away as we roll up. There's a girl with some guys trying to get in, but the doorman tells them bluntly that he can't let three guys in with just one girl. She says something about a list but it doesn't seem to help. Hmm. We're three guys and one girl too. Next a girl and a guy try their luck, and after a long discussion, the doorman goes inside and comes back out with somebody who okays the couple. Man, I don't want to deal with this hassle.
"Excuse me," Katz says to the doorman.
"Yes, can I help you?" he replies.
"We're here for the Paper after-party..." I say.
"Okay," chirps the doorman, parting the rope.
Gee, that was easy.
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| November 5, 2004
Today's first mission is ramen. Specifically, getting a taste of the toroniku ramen at Santouka. We don't really have enough time or room in our stomachs to compare all the different ramen across the city, so we just head straight to Santouka, which everyone who is into this sort of thing seems to hold in high regard.
The place is packed full of people hunched over the counter, slurping up steaming bowls of ramen. Looks like we might have to wait a bit. We go in, and a guy at the door asks us what we want to order. We tell him, he hands us different colored chips, and he motions us towards the stairs. Oh, well, it seems like they've got additional seats upstairs, so maybe we won't have to wait after all.
No such luck. There's a second counter upstairs alright, but it's crammed full of soup slurpers too, and the rest of the room is packed with people waiting their turn. Man, this shit is more popular than a schoolgirl in a room full of salarymen.
Eventually, we get seated and hand our chips over to the guy behind the counter, and a few minutes later -- yes minutes, who knew it took that long to scoop ramen out of a pot and into a bowl -- we're slurping away too. It's good shit, so I'm trying to savor it, but after I notice that the people next to us arrived after us and are now leaving before us, I feel a little guilty occupying the seat for so long while the line has grown noticeably longer, snaking its way down the stairs and almost out the door. But all of these people can come back tomorrow, and the day after that, and the day after that, while I have no idea when I'll be back, so they can all just wait a little bit longer.
Where am I? On the LES or maybe back on Lafayette?
 
After the ramen, we'd headed over to Daikanyama, but it doesn't seem as cool as it used to be. Actually, there are now way more "cool" stores and cafes and restaurants and such, but that's just the problem. Now it's a bit too self-conscious about being cool, and I notice that a majority of the stuff in the stores is an import of some type or another. Blah.
People kept telling us that Hide is hard to find, but c'mon, there's an illuminated sign for the building that it's in, and there's a logo outside. Sure, it doesn't say "Hide", but it says "H", which is good enough. Besides, it's on a big street (Roppongi Dori) and the bus practically drops you off right in front of it.
So we're here. Actually, we're the first customers. Kyoko spots us from behind the counter and waves hi. It's a long, relatively narrow space laid out in what I'm beginning to recognize is a fairly standard format: a long, deep bar set at dining height, with small private rooms off to the side. An open raw/prep kitchen behind the bar and no free-standing tables.
The menu's written on a huge piece of rough-cut, hand-made cotton parchment paper, and it's all in Japanese, so Kyoko explains it for us. So many choices and they all sound interesting. I wish we weren't scheduled to eat again two hours later. Well, that's not true, I mean, I want to try as many places as possible. But I know that if I order everything I want to try here, 4oclock will get full and not eat later, which will make things awkward later when we're eating dinner with our friends.So we just order a sashimi sampler, grilled pork, and, taking a deep breath, tori sashi. And a glass of Mao, one of the "big 3 M's" of shochu along with Mori Izo and Mura-o.
I ask Kyoko if I can take a picture of the menu, because it's so pretty and Katz was wondering what type of food they serve here. She says she doesn't think it should be a problem, but after checking with the chef, it turns out that it's not okay. So I don't bother to ask if I can take pictures of the food and just assume that'd be frowned upon too.
The sashimi consists of budi, izake, and kamahage, and I have no idea what the English translations are, because I've never seen them on a sushi menu back home. Next, more sashimi -- this time it's chicken. The tori sashi has arrived. Yep, here I am eating raw chicken and no pictures to show for it. It tastes like... chicken. Raw chicken. It's mostly a texture thing. So basically, it tastes just like raw chicken feels.
I try a glass of Cha-ru, which is shochu made with ocha, and it tastes like you would expect something made with green tea to taste like. I think this flavor belongs with tea and not alcohol. It's hardly undrinkable, but I should've stuck with the Mao.
The grilled pork is really tasty. It's kind of hacked into rough slices and served in a pile on a plate. Really tasty. Makes me wish we could have also ordered the pork shabu shabu.
For all your companionship needs:
Leaving Hide, we'd ended up in Harajuku for dinner with Asami, Yuko, and Yuko's friend. Once again we had been advised that it might be tough to find the restaurant. In this case, we were headed to Agaru Sagura Nishiiru Higashiiru (which incidentally Katz had asserted was the stupidest restaurant restaurant name he'd ever heard). Once again, "hard to find" is all relative, and while there are plenty of places that I do consider hard to find in Tokyo, a corner restaurant with an illuminated entrance and sidewalk sign on a busy block in Harajuku is not one of them.
Agaru Sagaru serves "casual kaiseki" for a very reasonable ¥4000 per person, or thereabouts. In other words, a nine course meal for the same price as a glass of shochu, a cup of tea, and some small bar bites at Koten.
 
 
I particularly liked the little branches that had been toasted so that their grain kernels popped like popcorn. It was a nice, novel touch. Overall, the food's good, but simultaneously rougher and more refined than Hide. Hide serves more casual food in a more refined way, while Agaru Sagaru serves formal cuisine in a very casual way. They both work.
Did I mention that Yuko's friend, Hoshino-san, is a complete food freak? I guess Yuko had told him that I'd been asking her and Asami questions about food and restaurants in Japan that they couldn't answer, because he pulls dozens of menus and magazine articles out his bag and explains way more than one person should know about food. When we get the extensive shochu list from the waiter, Hoshino-san proceeds to comment on just about every one on the list, describing their characteristics and history, which is nuts. It's like recognizing every wine on a wine list. Sure, you might know this one's a Burgundy or that one's a Super Tuscan, but would you know every single winery? I can hardly enjoy the food in front of me, because he's got my head spinning like crazy trying to absorb all this info. For the record, on his recommendation, I try Tek Kan, an imojochu.
The shochu lesson continues at Gofu, in Ebisu. It's this nice bi-level place that's not really a restaurant, not really a bar, not really a lounge, and not really an izakaya, but it seems like there's a lot of these types of places these days. Contemporary, but not trendy. Casual, but refined. We try Sato Shirokoji (good), Sato Kurokoji (better), and Tskinonaka. All of which I'm told are tough to get.
But for all the shochu on offer here, I think the coolest thing is the skewers they use for certain dishes. They're these custom ceramic sticks. Durable, heat-resistant, easy to clean. Am I a geek or what?
 
We make one more stop at Sacra, also in Ebisu. More shochu, this time Ichinozo, made from sugar cane (but for some reason people like to translate it as "black sugar"). Also had tori wasa to compare to the tori sashi that I had earlier. It's like, what, I dunno, rare chicken with wasabi. It's sorta cooked, but doesn't look like it. Asami loves this dish but is scared of tori sashi.
Yes. Hang out with me in Tokyo and all you will do is eat and drink non-stop.
Before there was Megu, there was Imaiya... talk about humble beginnings.
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| So I realized I never finished writing about the trip to Japan last year.
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| Sony Play Station Portable release. Carson Daly. Danger Mouse. Damon Dash. Blah.
No booze. Double blah.
Everybody here gets first crack at buying the PSP at midnight. I'm in line but I'm not interested. I was just hoping that they might give away some free shit, like a t-shirt or something at least. But it doesn't look like it.
"Hey, uh, I changed my mind. I don't want to buy one."
"Hold on, wait here."
Uh, why? I'm not allowed to leave unless I buy one?
"So you don't want to buy one?"
Nope. What is this, a brainwashing session?
"This way please."
I wonder where they take all the heathen non-believers.
"And I'll need to cut your wristband."
Darn, I don't even get to keep the wristband for a souvenir? Heh. Oh well.
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my life. cropped, blurred, resized, distorted and otherwise photoshopped.
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