my life. cropped, blurred, resized, distorted and otherwise photoshopped.

This is how we do... all day every day...

Wed, 20 Jul 2005 16:44:15 GMT

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.

A fucking ham steak

Fri, 24 Jun 2005 19:17:55 GMT

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.

DJ Jazzy Jeff @ APT

Tue, 21 Jun 2005 09:31:15 GMT

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.

Two bars

Fri, 10 Jun 2005 05:18:16 GMT

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.

Los Angeles, Day 4

Thu, 09 Jun 2005 03:42:33 GMT

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.

Los Angeles, Day 3

Sun, 05 Jun 2005 21:32:02 GMT

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.

Los Angeles, Day 2 (Part 1)

Thu, 02 Jun 2005 22:18:51 GMT

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 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.

Los Angeles, Day 1

Thu, 02 Jun 2005 20:16:56 GMT

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.

Saving Face

Tue, 31 May 2005 23:44:46 GMT

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 :-)

Educated Community feat. Ricky Powell

Tue, 05 Apr 2005 01:57:04 GMT

"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.

Random events

Tue, 05 Apr 2005 00:09:26 GMT

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?

Thu, 24 Mar 2005 23:04:07 GMT

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.

Tokyo Day 5

Thu, 24 Mar 2005 06:43:58 GMT

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.

Backlogged

Thu, 24 Mar 2005 06:43:23 GMT

So I realized I never finished writing about the trip to Japan last year.

PSP release

Thu, 24 Mar 2005 06:11:18 GMT

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.

I guess I should do something Irish but I'm with a bunch of Japanese

Sat, 19 Mar 2005 06:20:38 GMT

St. Patrick's Day. There's this party for a new magazine that Animal magazine is launching, but for some reason I'm not motivated. Although I've got to say that for a seemingly obscure magazine with a readership that I find impossible to identify, Animal does seem to draw a large and interesting crowd. But this new magazine is for fixed gear bike culture. Um. Okay, I profess ignorance, but how many people can be into that scene? So even though I passed the word around about the party, I'm not really expecting to go myself.

Even when Katz calls to find out when I plan on going -- assuming without even asking that I'm already planning on going -- I give him a kind of blah response. Maybe it's because I had a hangover yesterday from the Bonnie Pink show at Pianos and related after-activities on Tuesday. Although I did manage to pick up the inside scoop on some new developments later on from the folks at Milk & Honey, so I guess it was a productive night.

But back to this party. I'm on the of backing out on this one and now Katz is having doubts too. But Katz is kinda stuck because Tetsuya's on his way over to meet him, so Katz quickly tries to get ahold of him before he gets on the subway. Tetsuya, though, manages to convince Katz to go, so a little while later I find myself outside of Drive-In Studios, where the music is blasting out from the open garage doors on the first floor. There's the usual downtown crowd packed inside, but the style quotient and eye candy factor is higher than average. Hmm well I guess I shouldn't underestimate Animal again.

We run into a few familiar faces and say our hellos, but apparently they've already run out of alcohol. So, as much as we dig the dj and enjoy the people watching, it's tough to stay here. Sad, isn't it? We consider going down to the corner deli and trying to sneak a six-pack back into the party, but that seems rather pathetic. While we're standing around like a bunch of idiots, some guy approaches us and asks if he can take our picture. This actually happened to me the other week at the Staple/Nike event too. I must look funny or something, because I can't imagine any other reason why somebody would want to take a picture of me.

Okay, enough of this, we need something to drink. And we're getting hungry, too. So we head down towards 14th St in search of food with a bar attached. I notice this transparent Bacardi truck parked across the street from Lotus and curiosity gets the better of me, so I wander over for a closer look. There's a little mini-bar set up inside with some bar tables and stools. Score! Finally, liquor! Guess it's some sort of promo thing. They invite us in and hand us apple-flavored candy, I guess the whole thing being part of a launch of green apple-flavored Bacardi on St. Patrick's Day. I kind of look around confused hoping that they'll offer us a drink, but no such luck. Apparently they were serving earlier, but they had to stop. Dammit. Am I ever gonna get a drink around here?

One of the Bacardi guys exhorts us to jump up and down and make the truck bounce and look like we're having fun so they can take a picture. What is it with the pictures these days. We all just kind of look at him funny. I feel a little bad for him and the bored-looking Bacardi girls, but... yeah. Let's get out of here.

Next, L train over the East Village and dinner at Yakiniku West. K calls, wanting of course to go to Max and wondering what I'm doing and where Katz is. K's adventures usually end up being costly and neither Katz nor I are quite in the mood, but K decides that he'll come down and join us anyway. We've already been gorging ourselves on meat for over an hour, but once K gets there, we manage to talk shit til they start closing for the night. Then the sneaky little bastard pays for the whole thing, meaning of course that we're now obligated to head up to Max, just so K can pay a visit to his honey...

I wouldn't normally object if a friend wanted to go hangout with his girl, but when she charges by the hour for the pleasure of her company, it's a little different. Although even then I don't always mind if the price is right and the girls are interesting, because sometimes I end up with some funny stories. And since I'm paying for alcohol anyway, I might as well get to talk to some new people. But tonight I have a bad feeling. Witty small talk with a pretty face is alright, and if you end up making a new friend it's a bonus. But you're screwed if you get stuck with somebody boring, and the problem with Max is that for me it's so far everytime's been a crapshoot and I keep crapping out.

Once inside, I survey the room and notice that it seems like the quality's picked up since the last time I was here. There's this one girl in particular who catches my eye, in large part because the hot pink top that's she's wearing is way too loose and is basically hanging open all the way down to her navel. Surprisingly, she's the first girl who comes over to our table and takes a seat right next to me. She looks like a Japanese version of Paris Hilton, with a cuter face. Hmm. Things might be looking up.

But after a few minutes of talking to her, I change my mind. It's taking so much effort to talk to her that I think I should be the one getting paid here.

I don't know how, but we manage to end up sitting here til closing too. K suggests going across the street to hang out at some Japanese bar with his girl and whatever other girls she can round up from Max. Jeezus. Sit through more of this? Not tonight. But I go over to the bar anyway, just to see who decides to show up. We get a table, the girls arrive a few minutes later, and the decision's easy. I'm going home.

Wanna die?

Thu, 10 Mar 2005 04:21:06 GMT

Lately I've been watching a bunch of Korean movies.

I was never the type of person to see somebody in a movie and then want to watch every other movie they'd been in. Nor was I ever the type of person who was particularly fond of romantic comedies. But then one movie changed everything. Obviously, it wasn't Tae Guk Gi that set off this streak for me, although the movie that got me started on all of this did have a fair amount of talk about dying. As in the threat that Jeon Ji Hyun's character is always bullying her boyfriend with in My Sassy Girl.

"Wanna die?"

After that, the stack of Korean movie VCDs kept growing... with more of Jeon Ji Hyun in Il Mare, The Uninvited, and Windstruck, and assorted romantic comedies of varying quality thrown in for good measure, like My Tutor Friend, Spy Girl, and Sex is Zero.

One thing I've noticed is that, in the movies at least, Korean people sure do seem to like to whack each other on the head. A lot. Anytime something goes wrong, whack. Displeased? Whack. Annoyed? Whack. Surprised? Whack. Happy? Sure, why throw in another whack. If I ever visit that country, I'm going to walk around with a helmut and a catcher's mask on.

Philly

Tue, 08 Mar 2005 04:16:53 GMT

Some observations from my trip to Philly on Saturday. Mostly about food, of course.

Tried the cheesesteaks at Geno's. Not sure what the big deal is. Might have something to do with being a tourist attraction, but then again it seemed to have a large number of locals lining up too. Apparently I should've tried Jim's. Oh well. One of those "had to do it so I could say I've done it" sort of things.

I wish we had something like Reading Terminal Market in New York. Yes, it's crowded, and yes, it seems to get its share of tourist traffic. But there's nice variety and the prices seem good. There's lots of fresh veggies, meat, cheese, baked goods, prepared food, and assorted other random edibles all under one convenient roof. Chelsea Market just doesn't cut it.

Had an apple dumpling from what I can only describe as an Amish diner in the back of Reading Terminal Market. It was big, filling, and probably fattening.

Buddakan is really underwhelming in person, visually speaking. All this hype for a rather generic-looking restaurant with a big gold statue of Buddha and an equally generic-sounding menu (miso-glazed cod, cashew chicken, teriyaki salmon, etc.). I didn't eat there, so the food might be good, but on paper it seems boring. I can't believe that Stephen Starr chose this as one of his restaurants to duplicate in New York. As if we need another big Asian restaurant with a statue of Buddha. We've already got Tao and of course Megu. And I think Megu would trump Buddakan any day.

Jones, on the other hand, seems to have more character and was remarkably packed at half past five and still packed when I walked past again around 11pm.

Morimoto, hands-down, is the best-looking of the bunch. From pictures, I always got the impression that it was a little too neon plasticky, but in person it has a warmer feel than you might expect. We hung out in the (surprisingly small) lounge for awhile and I was disappointed to see a very small selection of sake and no shochu. What's a high-end Japanese restaurant doing without shochu these days? And half the sake was Morimoto private label sake, which just seems like a cheap gimmick. Would you order Daniel brand wine at Daniel? Or would you expect to see Petrus instead? The beer list lacked Hitachino and Yebisu, and again was dominated by Morimoto private label. Eh. I don't really need fancy beer, but in a fancy restaurant it seems to make sense to have it.

Midway through our first round of drinks, the waitress came by to check on us. As we all still had half our drinks left, we told her we were okay at the moment. A few minutes later, she came by and dropped the check on our table, unasked. Huh. Is this how they do it in Philly? If I had been with a group of all close friends, I would have then encouraged everybody to order their next drinks separately, one at a time, just to make her work, because I'm petty and vindictive like that. Instead, a few minutes later I flagged her down and ordered another drink before anybody else had finished theirs. After delivering my drink, she took our old check and replaced it with a new one. Hmm. If I were her, I would've asked if she should keep it open, or at least ask if anybody else wanted anything. Because my friend just finished his beer. And he wanted another. So now you've gotta print the check again. Was she trying to turn our table that quickly? Why? It's not like we'd stopped ordering drinks. And if she was trying to get us out of there, she should at least ask if we'd like the check before dropping it.

Washington Square was a bit of a disappointment. We got there ten or fifteen minutes early for our reservation, which I would've thought a restaurant would prefer to being late, but instead the maitre d' frowned and dismissed us with, "You're a bit early, so I'm going to need you to have a drink at the bar." Um, so it's all about you, huh? How about, "Your table's not quite ready yet, but would you like to have a drink at the bar?" Knowing that we were early, I hadn't really expected to be seated immediately, but if the maitre d' wanted to get all snotty about then fine, from this point on, I was gonna look for every single flaw. Fifteen minutes after our reservation, I felt like going up to the maitre d' and saying, "You know what, you're a bit late, so I'm going to need you to seat us now," but instead I just asked him when he thought we would be seated. He told me that they'd delivered the check to the group at the table we were supposed to be seated at, but that they hadn't paid yet. Which is avoiding my question. So I rephrased myself and asked how much longer he thought it would be, and he repeated his answer. I knew full well that he couldn't really predict exactly how much longer it would be and that he didn't have full control over when the other party would leave, but this wasn't so much about getting seated (because I didn't really mind waiting) as it was about just seeing how he handled the situation. He could've offered a round of drinks while we waited, or at least fucking apologized for the delay, but he did neither. I'm not sure what it is with Stephen Starr restaurants, but they don't seem to be too big on service. Somebody somewhere in that organization doesn't really do a good job with the training.

To add insult to injury, they have apparently replaced Marcus Samuelsson and his inventive menu of small plates with another guy and a generic New American menu of appetizers and entrees. Since I'd now discovered that I'd lost the whole point of coming to this place, I debated chewing out the matire d' and then just leaving, but with five other people in the group, I decided that I shouldn't put them all through that just to indulge my annoyance.

Forty minutes after our original reservation time, we finally got seated, and to their credit, we at least got two appetizers comped. But by then it was a bit too late. I was already grumpy, so as far as I was concerned, anything they did was going to be wrong.

Later, 4oclock pointed out that I wasn't really effective in getting us seated quicker. Which is true. Because I wasn't really focused on that. It's kind of perverse, but getting seated quicker was never my goal. Once the maitre d' had annoyed me, my objective had become to test him at every opportunity -- giving him chances to redeem himself and getting some sort of twisted enjoyment from seeing him live up to my expectation that he'd fuck up instead.

I'm lovin' it

Mon, 17 Jan 2005 18:00:02 GMT

Me: "Can I get a 6 piece McNuggets and a dollar fries."
McDonald's guy: "I can't give you dollar fries cuz we don't do the dollar menu after 11pm."
Me: "Okaaay... so can I get a small fries then?"
McDonald's guy: "No. You want medium?"
Me: "Wait, so you can't give me a small fries just because it happens to be on the dollar menu?"
McDonald's guy: "Yep."

New Year's Eve

Wed, 05 Jan 2005 08:21:18 GMT

I'm not really a big fan of New Year's Eve. Feels like a forced celebration, and worse than that it feels like I'm competing with everybody else in the city to find something to do or somewhere to go. I much prefer to escape and spend New Year's Eve in some other country, so then whatever I do -- no matter how mundane -- feels interesting.

But this year friends were coming in from out of town for New Year's Eve and they had asked Katz to figure out something to do, along the lines of making a reservation at a restaurant where we could eat and then hang around 'til midnight. Katz procrastinated for weeks and so finally one of them called me and asked me to do it. So after I'd had a chance to ridicule him for a bit, we came up with a list of places that we deemed suitably worthy of spending New Year's Eve and I started calling. $125... $150... $175... Drinks extra. Hmm well I guess this New Year's wasn't going to be cheap.

So with some hesitation, we ended up at Ono, in the Gansevoort Hotel. Which is really funny since I've been dissuading everybody from going there, on account of people telling me that the food isn't particularly good. Actually, that's putting it nicely. Anyway, it's five courses for $150 and our expectations are low. We didn't expect it be great food and we didn't expect to get much of it. So why go? Well, because if you don't expect much, odds are it'll be better than you expect, obviously. Okay so that's not the real reason, but at least it's a convenient location.

Right after we were seated, we spotted S standing around talking to the chef, so I went over and said hi. He mentioned that they were doing a party at the rooftop bar for $200 person. Uh yeah, that's nice. But it'd be over by 1am, he added. Not sure why he said that, but I assumed that he meant it'd be okay to go up there then.

The food was, naturally, better than we expected. See how this works? Actually, it was just fine. Better than En, at least. And I was pretty full by the time we got to the appetizer course (which had been preceded by an amuse bouche, grilled skewers, sushi, and a fair amount of Champagne and sake). So we ate for practically three hours, right up until midnight, then made some noise, cheered, blah blah. Then everybody proceeded to get on their cellphones.

1am came around, so for lack of any other plans, we decided to head upstairs. We were stopped at the elevator and told that there was a private party upstairs and that we'd need wristbands, which the front desk could probably help us out with. Hmm. Well, whatever. So I headed over to the front desk to see if I could talk my way up, when Katz spotted S in the lobby. What good timing. Next thing you know it, we're headed into the elevator and up to the roof.

At the bar there were plenty of pretty young things running around, although the place wasn't packed wall to wall. I'd say the $200 price tag probably had something to do with it. I think Marquee was only $150. Naturally, the first thing we did was head to the bar, only to be foiled again by the lack of wristbands. But who should spot me pulling out my wallet? None other than S. Who proceeds to instruct the bartenders to hook us up. Life is good.

After awhile we decided to head over to Hiro. I don't know why. Well, I mean, I know why Hiro, but I don't know why we decided to leave. Anyway. Hiro was supposed to be $150 tonight. Not sure how it was gonna work with all these people. I was pretty confident I could swing me and one other, but eight of us? Hmm. But it turned out I didn't have to worry.

Inside, well. You know that song by the Sugarhill Gang? Yeah. Broken glass, everywhere. I'm not sure if people were pissing on the stairs, but I'm sure they didn't care.

I have no idea when we left Hiro, but the next challenge was to find a couple cabs to take us to K-town. That was simultaneously harder and easier on New Year's Eve. Harder, obviously, because there are so many people out and about who are looking for cabs. Easier, because all the car service and other private car people are out cuz they know they can get a lot of extra business. Like this stretch limo that pulled up magically in front us like some sort of pumpkin carriage. We all piled in and it was off to eat.

The line at Gahm Mee Oak was almost out the door. And here there was no skipping the line. The others stayed and waited, while Katz and I took off to check out the situation at other places. By the time we got back, it was only a couple more minutes before we got a table. But didn't we just eat? Seems like that's all I ever do. I guess this year isn't going to be much different.

Carson Daly & Duran Duran / Animal party

Fri, 10 Dec 2004 07:11:37 GMT

Merry Christmas...

And a Happy New Year, according to Duran Duran (this will make more sense once NBC airs "New Year's Eve with Carson Daly", presumably on 12/31). If 12/31 turns out to be a clear day and yet it looks wet on TV, well, it's cuz it's raining right now.

This Animal magazine party would be okay if it didn't feel like the same crowd that was at Nom de Guerre last night and at the Hotel on Rivington on Monday. As it is, I'm getting bored so I think I'll go now.

Wait. Was that Busta Rhymes who just walked by? Yes. It was. Hmm. Well. On second thought. Maybe I'll stick around a little longer. No, this is getting old.

Tokyo Day 4

Wed, 08 Dec 2004 03:53:16 GMT

November 4, 2004

We've headed out to Uehara because Tetsuya wants to take us to some Chinese restaurant. Katz also recommended it. So having met Tetsuya at the station, he walks us over to Jeeten. The food is plenty tasty, but most of this stuff I could cook at home. I mean, baby bok choy with ham? C'mon. Maybe the reason why this place is popular with Japanese people is because they don't have Chinese parents to make home-cooked food for them.

The dessert's pretty good though. It's like tofu with bits of that turtle jelly and some other quasi-medicinal/herbal ingredients, which sounds unappetizing but tastes good.

The Fireking Cafe. I appreciate the Japanese take on Americana. It's like a fresh discovery instead of dusty nostalgia.

I don't appreciate the Fireking Soda. It's like a fucking Midori ice cream float and it's too fucking sweet. They should put in the dessert section of the menu instead of the soda section next to Coke and Sprite where it tricks people like me into thinking they're ordering something interesting.

So here we are at this recent, hyped-up, mega-development incorporating retail shops, high-end restaurants, a big-name luxury hotel, housing, and cultural outlets. No, it's not the Time Warner Center. It's

Kinda puts that Columbus Circle development to shame, if you ask me. Still bores me, though. But I still had to see it. Just cuz, y'know.

Now here's an idea. I've seen people move street food indoors to pristine environs (most notably in Singapore, and, uh, Spice Market, ha ha) but this is the first time I've seen them take the whole damn truck along with it.

Apparently Japan accounts for a third of LV's total sales volume. In return, LV occupies a third of Roppongi Hills.

If I had a telephoto lens, I could be conducting some industrial espionage right now.

This little water and light show goes off every hour. And of course there's the obligatory monolith for everybody to make phallic references about.

The one thing that the Time Warner Center did manage to do was to round up some really top-notch culinary talent. But Roppongi Hills has L'Atelier de Joel Robuchon. And as renowned as Thomas Keller is, somehow I just don't see Alain Ducasse being willing to take over one of his restaurants (as he did with one of Robuchon's). And the "Chef of the Century" title is Robuchon's, not Keller's. So while I still haven't gotten around to going to Per Se, I had to visit L'Atelier. Even if it's just Robuchon's more "casual" venture.

The story behind L'Atelier is that supposedly good ol' Joel is a big fan of Japan and was taken with the intimacy between chef and diner at sushi bars, so at L'Atelier (here and in Paris) there's only one long bar counter, behind which diners can watch the chefs at work. Essentially an open kitchen that's really bad for groups larger than two.

But guess what? You still can't interact with the chef, because there's a wall of waitstaff between you and him. He can't really explain what he's doing while you watch, unless he shouts. And even then, the bar's too long for him to really focus on individual diners and see how they react to the food. Moreover, Robuchon's not even in the kitchen. Not that I'd expect him to be, but I think this format would make more sense if he was.

On the plus side, with all the waitstaff hovering around right in front of you behind the bar, you never have to worry about trying to catch their attention when you need something. Not that I'd really expect that to be an issue in a restaurant of this caliber in Japan.

An even bigger plus is that this is the first time I've ever seen Premier Cru Burgundy offered by the glass. And at a price that must be close to cost.

We ask the waiter what the meat of the day is. I'm hoping it's pigeon. But it's not, it's chicken. Thrilling. Hmm. "It's really good," he says. "The chickens are flown in especially from France." Like I care. Don't you guys have great chickens here? I mean, this is the country that's made a whole specialty subcuisine out of chicken parts. "I really recommend it." Okay, fine. So we order the chicken and a bunch of other things we're not really sure of. Many of the items are conveniently offered in half sizes so we can try a couple different things.

Le gelée d'Oursins à la crème de chou-fleur. This tastes like sea urchin. Did I order sea urchin? I'm normally not a big fan. Oh well, guess I'll have to suck it up. It's actually pretty good. A little briny, though. But I suppose that's the nature of it.

Le pâté en croûte de veau et Foie Gras au jus. How come I didn't notice that there was foie gras involved with this dish when we ordered it? Again it's not something I usually like. Especially in this form; I much prefer it seared with carmelized edges and a melt-in-your-mouth inside.

L'Escargot à la Bourguignonne. And we're three for three with shit I don't like. Although this time I knew the snails were coming, cuz 4oclock wanted them. These I won't eat at all. Call me a provincial prude.

I hope this guy is asking where our food is.

Ah well it's not ready yet but here have this spring roll instead

Chicken. A little dry and overcooked. But the mashed potatoes are excellent. Beef. Good. And did I mention that these are the best mashed potatoes I've ever had? Lamb. Too salty. This one needs some of those mashed potatoes.

Our waiter stops by to ask how everything was. I tell him I think that the chicken was a little dry and overcooked. He says that it's the French style and says that Japanese like himself tend to prefer chicken a little less cooked. Well I wasn't talking torisashi raw, but a little less time on the fire might've been nice, cuz my American palate likes my chicken juicy. In fact, who the hell likes dry chicken. What type of answer is that? Are the French really that retarded?

Dessert. Le Marron confit en fondant de chocolat chaud, sorbet kyoho. Le Soufflé à la Chartreuse à la crème glacée à la pistache.

Where are my petit fours, dammit.

Back to Shibuya to meet up with Haruna. She takes us to Insomnia Lounge, which feels very lounge lizard 70s. And very red. It's got this laid-back East Village feel to it. We take off our shoes and stretch out on the red shag carpet, at one of the low tables they've got arranged along the walls. Then comes the time when everybody's off to catch the last train, so we head back to our hotel, and pass by Mark's bar, ADLV. Which is very white.

ADLV seems to be closed, so we wander around the small backstreets behind our hotel and find this quiet, sophisticated-looking shochu bar tucked into some nondescript apartment building.

We head inside. There's an air of mature seriousness to the place. I hope the guy won't be too annoyed by two non-Japanese-speaking Americans stumbling through the menu. There's no English translation on the menu, so I just go for broke.

"Mori Izo arimasu ka?"
"Arimasen..."
"Hyakunen no Kodoku arimasu ka?"
"Arimasen..."

Uh, hmm. Well, I'll just ask him to recommend something and pray to god that it's not going to bankrupt me. Imo? Yeah, sure. He suggests Tenshin no Yuwaku or Manzen. Uh, yeah, okay since I'm not in a position to really inquire about the differences, one's just as good as the other. 4oclock finds them on the menu. They're both about ¥1500. Alright, let's go with the Tenshin. 4oclock gets some oolong tea.

He carefully chips off a hunk of ice and places it in a glass, then with careful, deliberate movements, unclasps (yes, unclasps; there's no mere screwcap on this baby) the bottle of shochu and pours the honey-hued liquid into a little shot glass next to the ice-filled glass. "Skoshi," he says, indicating a sipping motion, "Then," he motions pouring the shot glass into the rocks glass.

This most definitely is not Iichiko.

It's strong stuff (I later discover it's 80 proof), but smooth and nuanced, like good Scotch.

I leave for the bathroom and when I come back I discover that we've each got a plate of little tidbits in front of us. A bite of this, a bite of that... Four bites in all, and they're tiny little bites.

Okay, time for the check. He punches a few buttons on a calculator and then writes a figure on a slip of paper and hands it to us. ¥4500. Uh. ¥4500? We had one glass of shochu, some oolong tea, and some miniscule morsels of food that we didn't ask for. But since it was an otherwise enjoyable experience and I can't foresee being able to get him to understand that it would be nice if he could explain the bill, much less being able to understand any such explanation from him, I just let it go.

Married to the Mob @ Hotel on Rivington

Tue, 07 Dec 2004 23:02:15 GMT

We interrupt this recap of Tokyo to bring you pictures from the remarkably unremarkable Hotel on Rivington penthouse credited to Pritzker Prize-winning architect Zaha Hadid.

For the utmost in guest comfort, the hotel provides wonderfully avant garde readymade cardboard beds.

Marcel Wanders is great, but this entrance is so underwhelming in real life.

Tokyo Day 3

Sun, 05 Dec 2004 06:16:00 GMT

November 3, 2004

Today we're switching hotels from the nice, big, amenity-filled Hilton way out in office towerland (west Shinjuku) to the smaller, more basic City Hotel in teenybopperland (Shibuya). Actually, not just any part of Shibuya, but the part that's home to a high concentration of a certain type of hotel:

Yes, we're in Maruyamacho, at the base of Love Hotel Hill. Our hotel is in fine company. This should make for some fun people-watching at night.

The nice thing about Shibuya (and the whole reason why we wanted to spend the bulk of our trip in a hotel here) is that it's convenient. A lot of train lines connect at Shibuya station. The problem is, they don't always tell you. For example, we're now here at the station looking for the Toyoko line to take us to Yokohama, but we don't even see a sign for it until we happen to wander up to the second or third floor.

But anyway, we find it, and eventually end up in Yokohama's Chinatown. Which is vastly different from any Chinatown I've seen in the States. Number one, it's clean. Number two, I don't hear any Chinese being spoken.

Of course, some things don't change. This place is still overrun with tourists. And although it seems like it's completely devoted to catering to tourists, these tourists have higher standards. You typically don't see a restaurant advertising twenty different types of shark's fin soup or a dozen different types of abalone in New York. Not too many Americans are going to appreciate it, since Chinese food is just cheap, unsophisticated food that you order by number. Not that the Chinese in America have put a whole lot of effort into helping change that perception.

They like big buns in Yokohama and they cannot lie... I must've seen almost a dozen places selling these oversized things.

This place must be good. Too bad we already ate. And I wonder what the deal is with all those Taiwanese flags.

But what really gets me is this wok cooking game. The Japanese must have a videogame for everything.

Back in Shibuya, we drop by Freshness Burger to recharge before dinner. 4oclock gets the negimiso burger and I get the basic version, which apparently involves a half-inch thick slice of tomato.

The prices seem cheap enough until we actually get our order and the burgers turn out to be tiny. Cute, maybe. But tiny. See if that dude in "Supersize Me" had lived off of Freshness Burger I don't think it would've had quite the same effect. In fact he might have lost some weight.

On our way to dinner, Asami calls to say that she and Yuko got to the restaurant early and that it may be a little hard to find. Hmm, well, we've got a map, so what's there to do except call her if we get lost. We should be able to just follow the JR tracks away from Shibuya station, where Desperado is/was.

And yes, that's exactly where it is. We were in this area last time we were in Japan. We get there on time and surprise the two of them with our ability to navigate Tokyo. It's really not all that hard when you're armed with three different sets of maps.

So here we are at Sora no Niwa. The menu is tofu, tofu, and more tofu.

I should use the flash on my camera but I feel self-conscious with all the other diners around. Anyway, that box is tofu in the making. Takes about 15-20 minutes; they put a timer on your table and when it goes off, you can open the box and dig in. I've had fresh tofu like this before back at Yakitori Totto in New York and at Yuaan the last time we were in Tokyo, so I skip the oohs and aahs, although this one is pretty good.

In general, the food is pretty traditional and not as interesting as I was hoping. If you didn't like tofu before you came here, this place probably wouldn't change your mind. But the tofu tiramisu, as wrong as it sounds, is really tasty. And my glass of Hamachidorinouta shochu, made from sugar cane, is alright.

So okay, enough pictures of food, time for some people.

Katz's friend Tetsuya has been calling throughout the day, so we finally get a chance to meet up after dinner. We rendezvous with him and his friends Kyoko, her boyfriend Mark, Gen, and Aki and then the lot of us take taxis over to NOS in Aoyama, which turns out to be closing. So we head around the corner to Cha Cha, where I get my first taste of Tantakatan. Shiso-flavored shochu, yum.

There's about eight of us split into a group of my friends and a group of Tetsuya's friends, and since Tetsuya and I just met for the first time tonight, conversation's a little awkward for awhile. But it doesn't last long and pretty soon I get so drawn into a conversation at my end of the table that I don't realize that they've run out of things to say at the other end. Hmm, well, it's getting late, guess we should be going.