Fiji Dreaming on Such a Dreary Day

I arrived on the bus, as usual, with my mind tracing steps back through my day at work. Buses in the city are always foreign to me; so many people, so little to say.
The difference between this and every other stale, silent bus ride was a conversation between two ladies that I could not help but intrude into. One lady commented on an Indian restaurant that served the most amazing dal with brown rice as the other nodded in understanding. Zoning out, my attention snapped back as the lady in front mentioned she came to San Francisco from Fiji.
"What is the national dish of Fiji?" I blurted out.
Stumped, she could not answer me. "We use everything. Indian cuisine definitely influenced ours, but we use sea food, pork, and fruit." We discussed food, great restaurants, countries we wanted to visit and our favorite wines until the bus pulled over at her stop. "It was nice to meet you, young lady, and have a nice day."
The rest of the way home, I could not help but ponder what the national dish was, or at least what the most common dishes are. There was only one way for me to cure my case of the curiosity. Here is what I discovered.
Native Fijians along with the Indo-Fijians use their hands when eating and eat on mats sprawled over the floor. Many dishes use rice, sweet potatoes, taro, cassava, coconut and fish. National specialties of Fiji are kakoda, duruka, lovo, rourou, and breadfruit. Though there is not an official national dish, Kokoda is commonly associated with the title of Fiji's national dish. Small micro gardens are springing up, which allow for the use of fresh greens and vegetables which were not accessible before. Lamb is imported from New Zealand, while an abundance of fresh sea foods are available.
Fiji, rich in scenery, tourism and fresh produce, is a wonder that everyone should visit at least once in their life. Though I haven't been there, as I get ready for work with the sun climbing up the mountain, I realize how thankful I am for this little getaway above the city; my own personal Fiji.

A Note of Inspiration.

When someone falls into a zone of comfort, the hardest challenge they then face appears with the arrival of the unknown; a gay entering into a christian community, a student leaving college after bonding with so many friends, and for some, even going to a new coffee shop alone.
As I walk down the streets of San Francisco, my hands still clam up from the discomfort of not knowing the city. While I wait at the bus stop with children smoking pot next to me, I wish for the reassurance of close friends or family members.
Does the sun still rise in morning, set at dusk? Why do people always gravitate towards the familiar material instead of the steady natural?
From the moment I arrived and started work, my journey that began with an overabundance of excitement dwindled into a burning flame of loneliness and anxiety. I knew nothing, knew no one, lost myself on the streets of the city; still, I was alive.
Coping with the unfamiliar normally leads to avoidance. I want to stay inside tonight. I want to go home. Some retreat and fall into depression, others force themselves through, following an imaginary ray of light that we all know lies hiding behind the obstacle in front of us. Even if the road chosen leads to failure, is there really nothing learned? Was there no point, or does disappointment shelter the vision from seeing the full picture of how this mere event leads one to their destiny?
I contemplate my feelings of solitude over the wait for my bus to arrive. Standing there, I saw a group of people staring at the BART map (I know this map, it saved my life. Now, if only they knew names for the numbered streets...). "Excuse me," I forced out despite my instinct to stay silent. I'm not the silent type, yet that's where I retreat. "Where are you trying to go?"
"Pier 33... is this the right bus?"
They were from Germany, with no idea how the public transportation system worked. I offered them directions and informed them that my bus ran right by the pier they were aiming for.
While on the bus, two teenagers contemplated their stopping point. I again offered my help, and assured them I'd show them were to get off. Before I knew it, I was navigating the routes for three groups of people. Having lead them safely to their destinations, they all smiled with pure gratitude while they exited the bus. (My stop is the final destination, so I'm always the last off.)
Still having an hour before work, I perched myself upon the ledge overlooking the sea. While the waves crashed, my hands released and I came to a moment of serenity; they're all different names for the same place. Everyone wants comfort, but everybody needs to accept what they do not know. Before long, even after your ego has been destroyed, you begin to understand and appreciate the unfamiliar.
No matter where you go, people are always willing to help lead you in the right direction. My only advice is to trudge forth smiling, and, no matter how scary, allow people into your life. The sun will always rise, the moon will always shine, and people still care about you. Do not be afraid to "lose" friends or family; in this technological age, they are always less than a day away. Let yourself learn, open yourself to a new world of possibilities, and do not give yourself the chance to retreat.
Having worked at Greens for nine days, I shook myself out of my crushed ego pity party and allowed everyone the chance to teach me. I work the cold food portion of the line and have now been trained for the hot food station. I always push myself, yet ask whenever I need help. I do not allow myself to feel stupid, no matter how stupid I believe I appear.
The point of life is to work, eat, smile and grow. With food still in front of me, a wonderful and challenging job, people to help talk me through the hardships of life and optimism that I won't allow to dim out, life is grand. Nothing could ever replace what I am doing, and I only wish to inspire people to give themselves the chance to challenge life.

Challah and Pasta and Chocolate, oh my!

After coming home from the days work, I walked through the front door to the aromas of fresh bread and brownies. Adam quickly grabbed my arm and introduced me to my diner; homemade challah bread, fettuccine pasta with sharp Gorgonzola cream sauce and al dente broccoli, and ghirardelli brownies infused with freshly squeezed orange juice/zest.
To be paired with this enticing menu was a 2007 Chardonnay from La Crema on the Sonoma Coast. This wine was sharp, yet still could match & tame the intensity of the cheese in the pasta.
When the meal was done, I got up from the couch I had passed out on to take a look at the feast. No joking, the bread had risen and after being baked measured from the top of my head to the middle of my chest. Soft, light and airy, this bread was sweet and rich. It was finally topped with freshly grated Parmisiano Reggiano cheese.
The pasta, though a little on the dry side (just as cream sauces tend to get) contained more flavor and depth than most pasta I've every had in even fine dining establishments. The flavor first hit your palate with the sharp stink of the cheese. It mellowed out and let it's richness unfold, also allowing elements of sweetness to escape.
Though I could barely take another bite after eating my weight in pasta, the fresh brownie sat in front of me begging to be analyzed. As I took a bite, the orange burst into my mouth. The chocolate added a decedent richness to the citrus flavor, which was perfect for me; I hate milk chocolate and fruit. Only dark chocolate (<60% cocoa) for me. The brownie melted in my mouth and with every bite, the citrus seemed to renew my palate, allowing for the after rush of chocolate to never dull out.
The meal was a success, the wine was fantastic and when I went to sleep, I drempt of many more amazing meals to come.

Napa Wine Adventure

Having Monday and Tuesday off, Valerie, Adam and myself (Mr. Nilson, the dog, came too) decided traveling to Napa Wine Country would be the right direction to go. After stocking a lunch cooler with fresh bread, avocados, tomatoes, tofu, strawberries, cherries and grapes, the voyage began.
Wanting to get to know downtown Napa a little bit better, we parked and strolled the streets. Down each street, a new aroma flooded our nostrils. I spotted a sign for the Rocky Mountain Chocolate Factory (really, I saw the smaller sign that mentioned ice cream...). I stepped inside and checked out their selection of cold delights. I notice a triangular thing on a stick that seemed to have been dipped in chocolate. After inquiring what the curious bugger was, I got the reply, "oh, a chocolate covered vanilla cheesecake". Oh was right. Without hesitation, I ran it up to the counter. "You sold me!"
Jumping back in the car, we started on our journey to the wineries. Our first stop was Oakville Grocery, a cute little store with many wonderful delights and nicknacks for pit-stoppers to purchase. They even labled their own bottles of water!
The first wine stop was V. Sattui Winery. Founded in 1885 in San Francisco by Vittorio Sattui, an Italian immigrant, V. Sattui was re-established in St. Helena in 1975 by great-grandson Daryl Sattui. We walked into their wine storage rooms, their historical room with antique machinery and then saw our destiny; cheeses this way-->. And follow we did.
Their cheese selection was fantastic. Every cheese labeled and described, even marked with a flag to determine which country they came from. After a cheese sampling, we purchased six wonderful cheeses: Vacherin Freborgious, Piave Vecchio, Petit Basque, Mormor (grandmother's) cheese , Crottin... (I cannot recall the last one, but I'm working on that).
We looked at our visitor's attractions guide and saw an advertisement for Castello di Amorosa (Castle of Love). A winery and a castle open for tours, we decided to give it a go.
First off, the two wineries shared the same owner. After being successful with V. Sattui, Daryl retired and bought more land to start a small, personal vineyard.
He vacationed in Europe, where he visited castles (he loves castles and the medieval eras). He went from castle to castle and tried to take photographs of each one he entered. Finally, he was kicked out for taking photographs; in many places, photos are not allowed. He left, completely disgruntled, and vowed to build a castle that people could take as many photographs as they desired.
Fourteen years and 180-ish acres later, Castello di Amorosa opened to the public. He expanded the vineyards, produced an entire new assortment of Italian style wines, and even built a torture chamber into the castle just to make sure it was as real as possible.
After a tour, we were lead to the tasting rooms. Long and narrow, these rooms were beautiful with arched brick ceilings. I was not allowed to try the wines, but I could still smell. I swirled the glass, thrust my nose inside, and staggeringly sucked in puffs of air so as to not allow any aroma to float by undetected.
My favorite wine was their new release, La Fantasia. Not allowed to ferment in the bottle for the normal allotted time, this wine was a slightly fizzed, semi-dry red wine.
Their website: http://www.castellodiamorosa.com/

Quiche on the Sunny Side of Life.

• 5 tbsp cold unsalted butter
• 3 tbsp cold vegetable shortening (I used 3 tbsp butter mixed with a little powdered sugar..)
• 1 1/3 cup all-purpose flour
• 1 tbsp sugar (optional)
• 1/4 tsp salt
• 4 tbsp ice water

By mixer: In a large bowl or a mixer with paddle attachment, combine the flour, sugar and salt. Mix on until blended. Turn off the mixer, add the butter and shortening, continue mixing on low speed just until mixture forms large, coarse crumbs the size of large peas.
Add the ice water 1 tbsp at a time, and mix on low speed just until the mixture begins to hold together, about 20 seconds. The dough will form large clumps and pull away from the sides of the bowl, but will not form a ball. To test, stop the mixer and squeeze a small piece of dough; it should hold together.

• Flaky pie pastry
• 3 large eggs
• 1/2 tsp salt
• 1/8 tsp freshly ground pepper
• Pinch of freshly ground nutmeg
• 2 cloves garlic
• Olive oil
• Red pepper, diced
• Spinach, shredded
• Red onion, diced
• 3/4 cup heavy cream
• 3/4 cup whole milk
• 1 tbsp unsalted butter, cut into pieces

Position rack in the middle of the oven, and preheat to 350 degrees F.
Roll out the dough, line a nine inch quiche dish/ceramic pie dish and prebake partially.
In a frying pan over medium, fry the red pepper, spinach & red onion in the oil with spices of choice (I used oregano, fresh basil, a little rosemary & some nutmeg).
Place the sauteed vegetables in the quiche dish.
In a large bowl, whisk together the eggs, salt, pepper, and nutmeg until blended. Whisk in the cream & milk until well blended. Pour through a medium-mesh sieve into the pitcher. Slowly pour the mixture into the quiche pan. Dot the top with butter pieces.
Bake the quiche until the top is slightly browned and the filling is set when you give the dish a gentle shake, 40-45 minutes. Transfer to a wire rack and let cool for 5 minutes. Serve hot.

If At First You Don't Succeed, Drop Lemon Juice.

Oh boy, oh boy.
Yesterday was the first day of my internship at Greens Restaurant here in San Francisco. Thinking back on all the events, I have come to the terms that it was nothing less than the perfect first day; I managed to showcase every single quirk in my personality.
Having arrived in the BART station at 4:30 in the morning, I was planning on going in at the same time as Adam and bide time doing homework at Starbucks (it's on the way to my bus stop). We parked, walked in and tried to find how to pay for the day's parking. I opened my wallet: $2. How am I supposed to buy myself a seat for 3 hours at Starbucks with only $2? I can't even get a latte with that, nonetheless pay for parking.
As Adam searched for an ATM, I tried to remember what our parking spot number was. For lack of an ATM and a sufficient memory, I gave up and drove the 20 minutes back up to my aunt's house for my secret stash of money.
Long story short, I arrived in the city without time for homework, but too much time to just head to work. I tried to buy time by buying a latte, which, as pleasing as it was, mildly failed. By the time the bus pulled up to Van Ness and North Point (my stop) the time was 7:25. the schedule read that I started work at 9; quite the dilemma. Biding time again by taking pictures and trying to call people, I finally gave up at walked in early to work.
Now Astred, you're fine. Stop shaking. Listen, be mindful and memorize what's going on.
I peaked into the kitchen, and finally found somebody to blurt my name to. "Oh, okay," was the reply given as they led me upstairs. I received a tour, introductions and then it was time; put on your coat and work.
Being placed under the control of the Chef, I was assigned to cut citrus fruits and avocado. I ran up to the dry storage to find the fruit, only... where's the grapefruit he asked for? Looking, looking, looking, gone? Finally spotting grapefruit, I grabbed it and went back downstairs. It was the wrong kind, and yes, they did have the right kind. In fact, there were two cases of the right kind.
I huffed and puffed and cut those fruits, only to cut myself instead of the avocado. By this point in time, all I could do was beat myself for being so nervous and messing up. Now, I had not literally messed anything up, so the universe decided I needed just cause in telling myself that; I dropped/spilled nearly 20 ounces of freshly squeezed lemon juice.
BREAK. I walked upstairs, contemplated retreating to the bathroom, but instead got food and sat down. I tried to relax, but could not. I needed to keep myself busy if I wanted to keep sane.
For those who do not know what "the line" is, every kitchen has a flow. The orders come in, you make them and pass them down this imaginary line until finally the table should be taken care of. The line is intense, the line is fast, and now I was in it. Not knowing how their ordering system worked, or what fully to do, I stumbled, stood around and somehow worked my butt off in an attempt to stay afloat.
By the time food was no longer being served, I helped clean, prep and then was sent back upstairs for scheduling. I was released early, and celebrated (calmed myself down) by stopping at Ghirardelli Square for their famous ice cream.
Now I am getting ready to head in for another day at work, so here's where I part. Wishing myself luck and a little less humor for those around watching me. Ciao!