The Best Value by the Buck & Local Lobster Bisque

“If the day and the night are such that you greet them with joy, and life emits a fragrance like flowers and sweet-scented herbs, is more elastic, more starry, more immortal- that is your success. All nature is your congratulation, and you have cause momentarily to bless yourself. The greatest gains and values are farthest from being appreciated. We easily come to doubt if they exist. We soon forget them. They are the highest reality. Perhaps the facts most astounding and most real are never communicated by man to man. The true harvest of my daily life is somewhat as intangible and indescribable as the tints of morning or evening. It is a little star-dust caught, a segment of the rainbow which I have clutched.”
― Henry David Thoreau,

December 18th, 2011

For those of you already following my almost daily journal, say goodbye to my little screenplay introductions (literally – pulling them off today) and greet my new intro of daily quotes by an American author, poet, philosopher, abolitionist, naturalist, tax resister, development critic, surveyor, historian, and leading transcendentalist – Henry David Thoreau. Perhaps best known for his book, Walden, his words have always resonated with me, his literary style interweaving close natural observation, personal experience, pointed rhetoric, symbolic meanings, while displaying a poetic sensibility, philosophical austerity, and love of practical detail. Aside from keeping my cloistered mind focused, my hope is that you discover a boost of inspiration from his accomplished writings; pause in deep conscious thought, reflect on the potential of his words and then continue reading “The Word of Chi” in anticipation of this aspiring author’s clumsy collection on full flavored living!

“Full living” being a point of interest, a common denominator throughout this literary equation, a long-term goal etched in the master plan . . . Attention required to my physical well-being could no longer be ignored. My back has been agonizing these past few weeks (3 long served years in normal human terms), unbearable clustered grenades of lactic acid firing off from within, no pill able to comfort, no hammer able to penetrate (no lie – I’ve pounded my back by more than a few construction tools in hopes of tenderizing the constricted muscle tissue). I concede at last to what those whom walk a life of normality would do – attend to the problem! Enter: dirt cheap massage therapy

Exit: per-conceived thought, “$15 foot massage” say’s the quincenera , rose colored neon sign externally hanging from a rather decrepit awning. So one would assume that the joint, nestled between a modestly ghetto laundrymat, Health Department “Grade C” recipient taqueria, and Adolfo’s Fine Spirits (LOL) wouldn’t likely be furnishing the Ritz-Carlton spa package, right? I mean seriously folks, who cares about aesthetics when the price is comparative to a one hour n’ twenty minute blockbuster movie ticket! I pondered, “This sounds like a score, a sweet deal, a two bill deal for some well needed nourishment at below fair market price.” Read on Maybelline, read on . . . .

I open the standardized Pittsburgh steel mill, glass framed door and find a brandy stained bamboo host stand with a pleasant Southeast Asian receptionist (receptionaire? Is there a different word for a male host???). He say’s “welcome, you want soft, medium or hard?” Is this a rhetorical question? Am I being punked? The moment of gayness passess and I reply, “hard, very .. very hard!” We pass through a narrow inlet between the serried panels of Shoji Screens depicting your typical backdrop of red crowned cranes, budding cherry blossoms and vertically floating koi. As my gracious maitre d’ guides me to one of the twelve massage tables visible from my not quite 282 degree view, I’m thinking “ok, so the $15 sign was a hoax to usher people through the door and then charge them a crisp President Grant for a standard massage. Whatever! My back f’ing hurts so bad I’ll gladly forefeit the remains of my wallet if one of these fine folks is capable of relieving my debilitated spinal cord.”

PAUSE: real-time, my sister just got up at 7:53 and brought me the one we call Nugget . . so adorable! I juggle her attempting to continue my writing . . then concede to placing her on the bed, wrapping her in my Keneth Cole cotton pull over . . . I admire her and share a conversation, speaking in infant tongue of “hiiyeeee’s, & aweeehhhh’s” She squirms this way & that, then flex’s her petite nub’s for legs and . . . rips a 5 second fart like a grown man after having eaten too many baked beans – Hilarious!!!!!!

A stout, sort of frumpy man with weathered facial lines predicting an age slightly more than half-century brings a bucket of steaming water and murmurs, “you take off shoes, shirt – put feet water” I’m leary, anticipating a blistering teapot effect and so I cautiously steep my size 14, triple wide left foot it. Neither scalding nor timid, my right foot happily follows suit and a I stripe to down to quasi-naked Voyeurism is apparently non-applicable at this establishment, the other seven persons furnishing undies and pants with all remaining unseen flesh discreetly covered by yards of terry-cotton towels.

The man returns. Curiously I wonder if he will simple nosh on my disabused toes, but silently hopeful that at any minute he will break-down my upper quadrant in Andrea Centazzo percussionist fashion. He begins with an application of lotion to my shoulders, kneading with a touch of assessment, stroking downwards towards my butt crack, both hands diligently testing my anatomical status. After a sensual tasting, Mr. Miyagui initiated a full-throttle, bone crack-a-lacking, rigor mortis a la tendon stretching, physique calibrating, push-pin-pressure point-persuading deep-tissue massage to my entire living corpse! It was as if he possessed full knowledge of “the force” - this man was the master Yoda re-incarnated and I his obedient disciple. I begged, “Beat me! Pound at will and strike down my knotted dark evils that loath me from within.”

At the end, breathing with such gratitude I asked, “You are incredible, What is your name? That was the most amazing massage I’ve ever had in my entire life” The jedi-masseuse responded, “Tony, tank you Mr. you very nice.” I exited the place believing I would have a bill by the minute, and having no idear how the clock had turned I imagined a invoice of upward $120. The receptionaire (will go with that) replied, “fifteen dollars please.” No, no this couldn’t be right – this man should be institutionalized! Yup, that’s right folks – right here on Springdale St & Westminster Avenue, Orange County . . you too can have the massage of your life for the price of two Happy Meals!!! Almost shameless, I tipped only $25 on the $15 tab, bought 4 gift certificates and booked a 10am appt for the next day . . . its 9:10am now, I haven’t showered yet or proof-read this journal entry so I leave you with “the best value by the dollar blog” and a recipe for Tommy Gomes, Catalina Offshore Products local Spiny Lobster Bisque.

Lobster Bisque Recipe
Ingredients

2 1-lb. cooked local, spiny lobsters from Catalina Offshore Products
1 cup lobster stock (recipe to follow this week/keep your lobster shells in freezer)
4 tbsp. clarified butter
1 tbsp. tomato paste
1 med. minced onion
1 each bay leaf
1 lg. minced carrot
1 sprig fresh thyme
1 tsp. chopped garlic clove
1/4 cup brandy
1 stalk minced celery
2 cups heavy cream
2 tbsp. flour
1/4 tsp. paprika
1/2 cup dry sherry
salt and pepper to taste
Instructions

Remove all meat and tamalley from lobster shell. Place in bowl and chill. Chop lobster shells as fine as possible. Heat a medium size saute pan until hot and add butter. As butter starts to smoke, add shells, reduce heat and cook shells for 1-2 minutes tossing the shell pie fragments frequently. Add all the minced vegetables and garlic and cook for 5 more minutes. Slowly sprinkle in the flour and cook for another 2-3 minutes. Transfer everything into a 2 quart saucepan and deglaze the saute pan with the sherry adding everything to the saucepan. Heat the mixture until hot then slowly add the lobster stock until the soup thickens. Add the tomato paste, thyme, bay leaf, and paprika.

What's Love got to Do with Food?

So, one of my latest blogs, jogged on about the past, present & future in reference to “presents & presence.” I woke up to a welcoming "yesterday fog" and at some random break in the dawn ended up in conversation with my sister about the parking tickets that I am currently indebted to the City of Los Angeles in excess of $279.00. I agreed to pay them promptly and after insulating my veins with copious amounts of caffeine, I departed my temporary beach residence and was rather unsurpleased (new word I created – I like it) to find a crisp new parking ticket on the Banshee’s dashboard (my sis’s car with a rather unpleasant squeal evoked from a rather antiquated fan belt).

My point here – life is like parking tickets . . . our neglect for the signs of our past (torturous accumulated fees & choice to evade public notice) cause consequence only noticeable in the present with hope that we’ve learned from these past experiences to perhaps influence our decisions of the future! Or: Notice & Obey the damn signs . . . which brings me to our proceeding in-depth discussion on the merits of love, free-will & destiny?

December 7th, 2011

I’m typing - yes, but I’m simultaneously watching “The Adjustment Bureau” which is rather appropriate to this personally provocative perspective on serendipity. For the few followers, (although many more to join) you might find my writings on this most recent introduction to Melbourne love a bit redundant – but I do believe I can properly defend my intentions . . . keep an open mind & enjoy the ride

How we met:
Conscious decisions are the recourse of one’s actions . . . although I cannot be certain of the subconscious or higher-conscious influence – it is presumable that they also have some stake in making the “what is” versus the “what could have been.” I myself, made seven conscious decisions on that brisk Autumn Thanksgiving Day that brought me to my barren knees and broke open the yolk.

1.) I opted to pass on a local Thanksgiving with my Sister & her Family –said no
2.) Mr. Wilson asked me if we were should have a bunch of friends over for a Chef Scotty T-day dinner –said yes
3.) I was presented with an opportunity to work a Thanksgiving event for another Caterer & badly in need of funds – I said yes
4.) Unrest with the pay & poor communication from the caterer – I seriously gave thought to cancelling. I vacillated for two days but ultimately opted to hold my word -yes again
5.) Having worked the event, exhausted after 2 thanksgiving dinners . . . wanting sleep, but having some instinctual inclination to conclude the evening with a cocktail; I proposed to my event assistant(Princess Whitney) that we go out to the Abbey - big yes to martini
6.) I led the way in driving – then Whitney sort of channeled ahead as if she new exactly where to park. She swooped into the parking lot directly across from the Abbey, normally a tow zone - I questioned her judgment yet she insisted it was cool and after deliberating the ramifications decided my quench was more important - yes
7.) We ordered a stiff cocktail (which took forever) and wanting to sit outside with a view of the patio bar & an ashtray of convenience; I insisted that we procure one of the two upper cocktail tables. Immediately one emptied and we moved in for the kill! Too late! Some rather large, Leo like Lesbians proclaimed their domain. My eyes focused on it's twin sister table which had a trio of full drinks & full pack of Marlborough Lights, but no obvious residents . . We pounced like new born cubs on a wounded gazelle. Gloating over our prized acquisition, rehearsing the agony of cleaning 132 dishes and yet fully aware that these unknown people would be coming back ... we kept alert. Sure enough, a few minutes later three gentlemen returned -surely we'd have to forfeit our treasured table! One look at the blue eyed, sandy blond haired foreigner and it was imminently clear - to hell with good manners -we would hold our post with conviction . . . my eyes translating, my heart pounding, my words . . well, . . . floundering at best.

Our acquaintance pre-ordained? Fate? Destiny? Maybe/Maybe Not. But that was quite a few distinctive choices that led to me meeting an extraordinary man. And from that point, the chain of coincidence & choice continued well beyond our initial introduction. Our fairytale future is still under the hand of scribe. The infamous Disney ordained ending "and they lived happily ever" only a forethought . . the finality left up to each as individuals and yet to be played out! As an excerpt from my Matt Damon amorous flick shares, “I can go through this door by myself and you’ll never see me again or with you by my side . . . and that’s all I’ve ever wanted since the day I met you.”

It’s always our choice, our elective choice that sculpts the clay in the image of our destiny. Quite honestly, I don’t believe I’ve ever paid as much attention to the words within all of these love ballads & cinematic dramas. I guess, I've never really had anything permanent to relate it with! (I mean, I’ve had puppy love, love at first sight, learned love, abusive love, family love . . . but, not this “true love" thing that Hollywood exploits ...who new that it actually does exist?)

Taking a step back further into the nature of these writings; Food is the very premise for my career as a Chef (and this blog) but certainly not the sustenance of my soul. We must admit that food has risen above any primal resource of survival and affectionately been elevated to a stature of creative entitlement as an artists median to be interpreted . . . ingredients painted upon canvas and displayed as cuisine if you will. And while one would think my words might be better appropriated to proper spice etiquette or lessons on Polynesian cooking . . . it is my endearing endeavor to explore all of life’s lessons utilizing all of my native born talents which translate well beyond that of a twinkle toed, Midwestern bred culinarian!

Case in point, isn’t Love a necessity of humanity? What is life without love and how does or will that affect one’s perception of such things as food, tastes & desires? A whole new scenario is beset upon my feet and thus calls for proper evaluation of ones feelings, sensations and potential reformation of core ideals. Be it shared or solitary - the deck has been shuffled, the game no longer fully understood and the players of ego, spirit & emotion all blindfolded to any previously known omen - God life is grand isn't it?

"Most just follow the plan as proceeded by the chairman but every now & then there is someone who knocks down all of the obstacles put in your way – the chairman’s plan forced to be re-written in the image of ones will"

The only recipe I offer today is an assignment of awareness . . . it's all in the details whether past, present or future . . .. wear your heart on your sleeve and keep venerable eyesight. Fear not the pain of loss - it's unavoidable in all of it's manifestations, but choose a life of brimming with possibilities, hopes and desires. There are no guarantees in life only the certainty of choice . . . I believe this foreboding true love simply awaits our discovery.

“The mirror reflecting the image of ones sightless self, the shadow casting the image of ones obscured perception . . we each march to the beat of our envious heart, unbeknownst to the trumpet swan's courting”

with Culinary Blessings

Chef Scotty