|
Richard Jernigan -> RE: Historically correct replica in Manchego of 63 Santos Fernandez (Mar. 13 2021 1:42:37)
|
quote:
ORIGINAL: BarkellWH
quote:
Here’s what I like to eat these days-Seared black tuna with peppers cooked with mirren and a pinch of garam masala with a plate of Roman cauliflower lightly boiled and finished in a wok with salt and olive oil.
I loved the seafood served in Pohnpei, Micronesia and Palau, which you will be familiar with, Stephen, from your days in the islands. In Palau they have "blackened sashimi," which is the regular, raw, thin-sliced fish but with the surrounding edge sauteed, sort of pan-seared, with black sesame seeds imbedded in it. It is absolutely delicious. The surrounding sauteed edge with imbedded black sesame seeds really adds to the flavor.
And in Koror, Palau, the finest blackened sashimi is without question found at a local restaurant and watering hole called Kramer's. Kramer's is owned by Rene', a German with wide-ranging interests and an in-house library, and his Filipina wife Jane. They are a colorful pair, and the food, drink, and camaraderie at Kramer's is without equal in Palau, as is the blackened sashimi.
Bill
On the way from Kwajalein to Japan in September, 2006 the Island Hopper was late leaving Honolulu. By the time we got to Pohnpei the flight crew had used up their allotted hours, so instead of going on to Guam we spent the night. They put us up at the South Park. It was dinner time so we went to the dining room and sat at one of the big screened windows with a view of the harbor and Sokehs Rock at sunset. There were occasional brief rain showers and a light cool breeze.
Parrot fish was on the menu. Diving, I had seen and photographed thousands of parrot fish of various species, but I had never eaten one. It was battered with the skin on, fried crisp on the outside, tender within, and served with rice, vegetables and salad. It was delicious, really good. Only time I ever ate one.
For three years I lived half the time in Austin and half the time in Palo Alto. I had enough consulting customers in the Bay Area to justify renting an apartment. I was 49, but still had all my hair and ran 5 or 6 miles every day except Sunday. After divorcing I made the pleasant discovery that there were girls in their early twenties who wanted a combination prosperous daddy and boyfriend, but didn't want to get married.
When I told my Japanese girlfriend who lived in San Francisco that she was beautiful, she said, "No, Richard I'm not beautiful. But I know how to act like I am."
She grew up in Tokyo until she was 14, then moved with her parents and sister to San Francisco. At 23 she had a Masters degree in English Literature from Berkeley. Her American English was absolutely note perfect, fluent and lively, her Spanish was very good.
She said, "Until they are 45 men are just boys. At 55 they're too old." Fortunately I was the right age.
For sushi we used to go to Kabuto in San Francisco. The first time I invited her to dinner she chose the sushi bar in the Japan Town Center. Apparently I committed no egregious gaffes, so the next time it was Kabuto. Clearly the owner and chef, Sachio Kojima, knew my girlfriend. He emitted a constant stream of wisecracks, once in a while shifting to English for my benefit.
As we left my girlfriend said, "This is how it's supposed to be, like it is at home."
The second time, after a few sets of sushi a plate of gigantic shrimp heads, their 3-inch antennae intact, was set beside me by the waitress, not handed over the bar by Sachio-san. "Richard-sama is adventurous eater?" he asked.
"Richard will eat anything," my girlfriend replied. Half the customers at the bar were expat Japanese. They laughed out loud at her snappy comeback--not for the first time.
The shrimp heads had been toasted over a brazier. When bitten they shattered like fresh potato chips. Delicious.
We became regulars.
There was a routine when we showed up. After canonical greetings and bows we would be seated at the bar. The waitress would bring me a glass and a small bottle of Kirin Ichiban, and pour a cup of green tea for my girfriend. She would ask in English, "Sachio-san, what is good tonight?"
He would inevitably reply, "All good, everything good."
One evening I asked her before we went in, "Why do you always ask Sachio-san what's good? He never answers."
"Richard, I thought you were more observant. Watch where he points his knife." Sure enough...
We always finished up with natto maki. Natto is fermented soybean paste. It does not look appealing. When I first tried it the taste was oily and bitter. Manfully, I ate mine every time. Sachio once wisecracked, tapping his fist on his chest, "Strong heart!"
After about a year, the taste of natto mysteriously and suddenly changed. At the first bite it was no longer oily and bitter. It took on a warm, nutty taste. Sachio-san always watched as we took the first bite of anything. I said nothing about the changed taste, but he said something in Japanese to my girlfriend. After he walked away I asked her, "What was that about?"
"He said, 'Now he likes it.' "
RNJ
|
|
|
|
