Wednesday, April 30, 2008
I know, I know
The whole point of creating this blog was to foster creativity, learning, sharing, observations, questions, ranting, raving, and craving within a written medium. I find expressing myself through words comes rather easily, which makes the necessity for repetition almost nonexistent. My goal was to write regularly, on a variety of topics, for mostly selfish reasons. You- my virtual audience- being able to peer into my thoughts is a byproduct of this process. Regardless of who I had in mind when I started writing, I have been remiss in my self-appointed duties. For that I am sorry. I'll try to do better.
Friday, April 11, 2008
Going Alone, Pt. 1
I am, for the most part, a social being. While I occasionally seek solitude and exhibit antisocial behavior, I typically attempt to surround myself and share experiences with others. Sometimes I am overly reliant on interaction, and I fail to appreciate opportunities to learn and grow individually. This is the backdrop for a series of events that recently transpired, allowing for some great opportunities for self-reflection.
I was talking to my friend Mahteeus* (*names have been changed to protect identity) several weeks ago about my desire for an adventure during my spring break (working at a high school has some nice scheduling perks). We tossed around the idea of going to the Grand Canyon, but permits weren't available. After writing here about my situation, I got a recommendation to check out the Big Sur area. I did some research and came up with several possibilities for the trip, and it just so happened to coincide with Mahteeus' trip to San Francisco to finish some graduate school interviews. It looked as though I could buy a one-way to ticket to SF and catch a ride to Big Sur (and ultimately back to San Diego) with Mahteeus. Joy!
Maybe 11 hours after I purchased my ticket to SF, I received an email from Mahteeus stating that he would not be able to drive after all. As a backup, I hastily purchased a return ticket for later in the week. $100 round-trip between SD and SF was a pretty good deal no matter how I looked at it. I then tried to talk my friend Nilla into joining me (partly because I enjoy his sardonic yet occasionally joyful disposition, partly because he has a car)- I was successful for about 14 hours this time. My last chance involved my friend 5er*. I knew he would be in Davis for a tournament over the weekend I anticipated starting my hike, but it looked as if we could work it out with a few changes in both of our schedules. Sure enough, 5er had to cancel due to some meetings early in the week. Damn.
At this point I seriously considered canceling the trip up to Big Sur and staying in San Diego for the week. It wasn't until Friday afternoon that I decided to make the the trip, thanks to some advice from my dad. I canceled my flights, finalized my plans, and packed my gear on Friday night. I had to teach lessons on Saturday morning, and I had such a difficult time maintaining focus. I hadn't done a substantial trip on my own since packing all my belongings and moving to SD from Wisconsin. I hit the road on Saturday around 1 pm, and made good time despite some typical LA traffic.
I made it up to Gorda (southern end of the Los Padres National Forest, when Hwy 1 starts hugging the coast north of San Luis Obispo) just after sunset, and got some camping recommendations from the dishwasher at the café. After trying several campgrounds along the highway, I snagged an open site (supposedly reserved, but no one showed up) at Limekiln State Park. Fell asleep to the sound of a rushing stream and the scent of redwoods. Woke up to the sound of drunk kids trying to start a fire and play guitar.
After breaking camp on Sunday morning I drove south several miles to the Kirk Creek campground, which was directly across the street to my intended trailhead. My plan was to hike to the Vicente Flat, reassess the situation, and possibly push forward to check out Cone Peak. The morning air was still a bit chilly, but the sun was already peeking out over the ridgeline and I quickly shed my long sleeve shirt due to the trail's rapid ascent. The trail hugs numerous foothills and canyons, so the scenery was constantly changing. On the outer edges of the canyons, blooming flowers, grasses and low bushes, and an ever expanding view of the coastline-to-horizon stretch of deep blue waters. Heading into the canyons, a shift to abundant vegetation, stunning redwoods (though with a great deal of evident fire damage), and bursts of bird song.
I made it to the Vicente Flat in good time, and passed a couple groups still engrossed in their breakfast and general slow-in-the-morning-when-camping rituals. Vicente Flat is a nice little respite from ascent with a few small stone fire rings, a random picnic table, and a nice streaming intersecting the trail. I got encouraging reports that the hike to Cone Peak was definitely possible, given the time of day and the remaining distance. The welcoming terrain quickly steepened, and I found myself straining to keep moving. The trail from VF to Cone Peak road may have been the steepest trail I walked during the trip, and carrying a full pack (~60 lbs easily) created several opportunities to rest and chastise myself for not being more physically prepared for this undertaking. There were several scenic moments that did not transfer from my line of sight to my camera, and for good reason. I was tired and cranky. Funny how easy it is to lose track of your surroundings when you are forced to fight the urge to give up with every step. I came up with a great number of rational reasons for heading back to Vicente for an early stop of hiking, but I managed to fend off those arguments and trudge forward.
I made it to Cone Peak Road and continued up the road for about two miles, until I hit the Cone Peak Summit trailhead. Immediately after starting up the trail, I encountered a downed tree just below chest level. The surrounding terrain made going around impossible and over very unappealing. So I crouched and waddled to the best of my abilities, still scraped the top of my pack as I passed, and suddenly found it impossible to stand up straight. My knees felt locked in hemiotranstitis (I made it up at Blair's urging, since we didn't know the word for when your legs are fully bent, something about negative space, blah blah), and I said to myself, "Self, you are screwed if you cannot overcome something as simple as regaining your vertical stature."
Something I forgot to mention earlier that I am inserting here, for better or worse. If you plan on hiking any distance, you will look and feel much cooler with a sweet walking staff. I knew this going in, so my eyes were constantly peeled for the perfect staff. A few false hopes early on, but I knew it would come to me eventually. I found my staff several miles in from the start of the VF trail, amid a large pile of freshly cut redwood. Clearly there had been a large tree in the path that a volunteer cut up, and I found my staff after a quick scan of the remains. It was slightly oversized, but I dealt with it and cut it down later in the trip. It was, and still remains, the best walking staff ever. I had this romantic (not like John Cusack, more like Henry Wadsworth Longfellow) notion of keeping it forever and carving in the names of all the places I carry it to. Maybe that'll happen, maybe not. Back to the story.
The first mile or so was steep but relatively easy going (mostly because I knew how close I was to the top) but the trail became rocky and was blocked by fallen trees on several occasions. It was getting late in the afternoon, and the sun's rays were unobstructed in their pursuit of baking my skin. I was getting a bit discouraged when I saw an elderly couple (at least 65) come around a switchback towards me. Even though their car was parked at the trailhead and their hike was only 4 miles, it was still impressive to see them climb such a challenging trail. After they passed me I said to myself, "Self, if you cannot ignore the distance you have already traveled and just focus on your destination then you will have several reasons to despise yourself- number one on that list being this old couple owning you on this mountain."
I finally made it to the summit, and dropped my pack for a well-deserved rest. Cheddar cheese and a crisp apple were my rewards, not to mention the spectacular view. There is a fire lookout station atop the peak, and I decided to try a panoramic sequence of photos. Starting with this photo (which represents the southeast corner of the lookout tower), I made my way counterclockwise around the perimeter of the structure. I knew that daylight was dwindling, and I still had 6 miles to hike back to Vicente Flat to set up camp. I reshouldered my pack and started back down the trail. It didn't take long to realize that my muscles were not up to the task of balancing and controlling my descent, and it was almost as arduous to descend as it was to climb.
There were a few spots on the trail that I just leaned forward and ran, only to try easing the strain on my knees. Several times my right knee (which has been an issue lately) buckled and I nearly fell off the side of the canyon. Yikes. I finally made it back to the Vicente Flat, eager to share someone's fire, ask for a cup of coffee...only to realize that it was Sunday night, and I was absolutely alone. This was somewhat disconcerting, but I quickly made camp, started a fire, and changed out of my hiking clothes. I managed to rig a hot plate over the fire to make sardine and cheddar quesadillas, which were delicious but silly in hindsight. I had no bear canister, and the pungent aroma of fish was not only in the air, but also on me, my clothes, my hair, and in my tent. I rinsed the sardine can and packed it away before passing out, but awoke several times in the night worrying about what might be prowling around outside. Luckily there were no bears, cougars, dementors, or similar horrors lurking about that night.... To be continued....
I was talking to my friend Mahteeus* (*names have been changed to protect identity) several weeks ago about my desire for an adventure during my spring break (working at a high school has some nice scheduling perks). We tossed around the idea of going to the Grand Canyon, but permits weren't available. After writing here about my situation, I got a recommendation to check out the Big Sur area. I did some research and came up with several possibilities for the trip, and it just so happened to coincide with Mahteeus' trip to San Francisco to finish some graduate school interviews. It looked as though I could buy a one-way to ticket to SF and catch a ride to Big Sur (and ultimately back to San Diego) with Mahteeus. Joy!
Maybe 11 hours after I purchased my ticket to SF, I received an email from Mahteeus stating that he would not be able to drive after all. As a backup, I hastily purchased a return ticket for later in the week. $100 round-trip between SD and SF was a pretty good deal no matter how I looked at it. I then tried to talk my friend Nilla into joining me (partly because I enjoy his sardonic yet occasionally joyful disposition, partly because he has a car)- I was successful for about 14 hours this time. My last chance involved my friend 5er*. I knew he would be in Davis for a tournament over the weekend I anticipated starting my hike, but it looked as if we could work it out with a few changes in both of our schedules. Sure enough, 5er had to cancel due to some meetings early in the week. Damn.
At this point I seriously considered canceling the trip up to Big Sur and staying in San Diego for the week. It wasn't until Friday afternoon that I decided to make the the trip, thanks to some advice from my dad. I canceled my flights, finalized my plans, and packed my gear on Friday night. I had to teach lessons on Saturday morning, and I had such a difficult time maintaining focus. I hadn't done a substantial trip on my own since packing all my belongings and moving to SD from Wisconsin. I hit the road on Saturday around 1 pm, and made good time despite some typical LA traffic.
I made it up to Gorda (southern end of the Los Padres National Forest, when Hwy 1 starts hugging the coast north of San Luis Obispo) just after sunset, and got some camping recommendations from the dishwasher at the café. After trying several campgrounds along the highway, I snagged an open site (supposedly reserved, but no one showed up) at Limekiln State Park. Fell asleep to the sound of a rushing stream and the scent of redwoods. Woke up to the sound of drunk kids trying to start a fire and play guitar.
After breaking camp on Sunday morning I drove south several miles to the Kirk Creek campground, which was directly across the street to my intended trailhead. My plan was to hike to the Vicente Flat, reassess the situation, and possibly push forward to check out Cone Peak. The morning air was still a bit chilly, but the sun was already peeking out over the ridgeline and I quickly shed my long sleeve shirt due to the trail's rapid ascent. The trail hugs numerous foothills and canyons, so the scenery was constantly changing. On the outer edges of the canyons, blooming flowers, grasses and low bushes, and an ever expanding view of the coastline-to-horizon stretch of deep blue waters. Heading into the canyons, a shift to abundant vegetation, stunning redwoods (though with a great deal of evident fire damage), and bursts of bird song.
I made it to the Vicente Flat in good time, and passed a couple groups still engrossed in their breakfast and general slow-in-the-morning-when-camping rituals. Vicente Flat is a nice little respite from ascent with a few small stone fire rings, a random picnic table, and a nice streaming intersecting the trail. I got encouraging reports that the hike to Cone Peak was definitely possible, given the time of day and the remaining distance. The welcoming terrain quickly steepened, and I found myself straining to keep moving. The trail from VF to Cone Peak road may have been the steepest trail I walked during the trip, and carrying a full pack (~60 lbs easily) created several opportunities to rest and chastise myself for not being more physically prepared for this undertaking. There were several scenic moments that did not transfer from my line of sight to my camera, and for good reason. I was tired and cranky. Funny how easy it is to lose track of your surroundings when you are forced to fight the urge to give up with every step. I came up with a great number of rational reasons for heading back to Vicente for an early stop of hiking, but I managed to fend off those arguments and trudge forward.
I made it to Cone Peak Road and continued up the road for about two miles, until I hit the Cone Peak Summit trailhead. Immediately after starting up the trail, I encountered a downed tree just below chest level. The surrounding terrain made going around impossible and over very unappealing. So I crouched and waddled to the best of my abilities, still scraped the top of my pack as I passed, and suddenly found it impossible to stand up straight. My knees felt locked in hemiotranstitis (I made it up at Blair's urging, since we didn't know the word for when your legs are fully bent, something about negative space, blah blah), and I said to myself, "Self, you are screwed if you cannot overcome something as simple as regaining your vertical stature."
Something I forgot to mention earlier that I am inserting here, for better or worse. If you plan on hiking any distance, you will look and feel much cooler with a sweet walking staff. I knew this going in, so my eyes were constantly peeled for the perfect staff. A few false hopes early on, but I knew it would come to me eventually. I found my staff several miles in from the start of the VF trail, amid a large pile of freshly cut redwood. Clearly there had been a large tree in the path that a volunteer cut up, and I found my staff after a quick scan of the remains. It was slightly oversized, but I dealt with it and cut it down later in the trip. It was, and still remains, the best walking staff ever. I had this romantic (not like John Cusack, more like Henry Wadsworth Longfellow) notion of keeping it forever and carving in the names of all the places I carry it to. Maybe that'll happen, maybe not. Back to the story.
The first mile or so was steep but relatively easy going (mostly because I knew how close I was to the top) but the trail became rocky and was blocked by fallen trees on several occasions. It was getting late in the afternoon, and the sun's rays were unobstructed in their pursuit of baking my skin. I was getting a bit discouraged when I saw an elderly couple (at least 65) come around a switchback towards me. Even though their car was parked at the trailhead and their hike was only 4 miles, it was still impressive to see them climb such a challenging trail. After they passed me I said to myself, "Self, if you cannot ignore the distance you have already traveled and just focus on your destination then you will have several reasons to despise yourself- number one on that list being this old couple owning you on this mountain."
I finally made it to the summit, and dropped my pack for a well-deserved rest. Cheddar cheese and a crisp apple were my rewards, not to mention the spectacular view. There is a fire lookout station atop the peak, and I decided to try a panoramic sequence of photos. Starting with this photo (which represents the southeast corner of the lookout tower), I made my way counterclockwise around the perimeter of the structure. I knew that daylight was dwindling, and I still had 6 miles to hike back to Vicente Flat to set up camp. I reshouldered my pack and started back down the trail. It didn't take long to realize that my muscles were not up to the task of balancing and controlling my descent, and it was almost as arduous to descend as it was to climb.
There were a few spots on the trail that I just leaned forward and ran, only to try easing the strain on my knees. Several times my right knee (which has been an issue lately) buckled and I nearly fell off the side of the canyon. Yikes. I finally made it back to the Vicente Flat, eager to share someone's fire, ask for a cup of coffee...only to realize that it was Sunday night, and I was absolutely alone. This was somewhat disconcerting, but I quickly made camp, started a fire, and changed out of my hiking clothes. I managed to rig a hot plate over the fire to make sardine and cheddar quesadillas, which were delicious but silly in hindsight. I had no bear canister, and the pungent aroma of fish was not only in the air, but also on me, my clothes, my hair, and in my tent. I rinsed the sardine can and packed it away before passing out, but awoke several times in the night worrying about what might be prowling around outside. Luckily there were no bears, cougars, dementors, or similar horrors lurking about that night.... To be continued....
Thursday, April 3, 2008
Cooking
My cooking habits tend to ebb and flow, much like everything else in my life. Sometimes I get lazy and avoid the kitchen, other times I get completely sucked in to the idea of coming up with new creations, revisiting old favorites. This week finds me pretty active in the kitchen- I've been compelled to cook almost every night of the week. Tuesday night I made a spicy roasted red pepper soup with a fresh salad chock full of local organic vegetables, courtesy of Be Wise Ranch. My friend Ruth brought over some fresh scallops and seared them in a delicious honey-citrus glaze.
Wednesday night was supposed to follow a simple progression- a small dinner with a few key friends (Nilla was in town, Lisa was a few days away from ACL surgery, etc., etc.) followed by a nice bike ride to Hamilton's, which happens to be my favorite watering hole in San Diego. I got a little carried away with the invites, and a few people invited a few people...Next thing I know I'm cooking for about 13 people. I had a nice bike ride to the grocery stores, and I came home feeling refreshed and ready to cook. The menu was somewhat Italian, though not thoroughly traditional to any particular region. I made some sweet olive oil bread from scratch and prepared an apple-cinnamon compound butter to spread over the warm bread. I used a double boiler to melt the butter into the apple and spice mixture, and let it congeal in the freezer. It never ended up resembling solid butter again, which actually turned out pretty well. Imagine spreading creamy applesauce over warm and subtly sweet bread.
For the "main" course I made a series of calzonés, and I have to interject my opinion about the correct pronunciation. When I was in Italy, everyone pronounced the é in the typical dialectic fashion (mascarponé, buona notté, etc.). Upon returning to the US, the common pronunciation suddenly reminded me of a football defensive set, or a west coast voter's initiative. WTF. I'm willing to admit I'm wrong in the face of some hard evidence, but I maintain my position for the time being. Anyway, I ended up making about 13-14 different calzonés with a wide variety of toppings. Fresh chicken sausage, prosciutto, caramelized onions, garlic, tomatoes, cottage cheese (poor man's ricotta), onions, anchovies, olives. Either they were a big hit or my friends are great at bluffing. Dessert was, in my opinion, the highlight of the meal. I acquired an ice cream maker from my friend Jef, who is a fine chef recently removed from San Diego. I've been putting it to use lately, and last night I experimented a little and made pomegranate gelato. Very subtle, airy, and creamy with a solid body and slight tartness. I think I should make it again just to confirm it's validity in my repertoire.
Today was my good friend Bill Webb's 47th birthday. We share several loves- camping, hiking, ultimate frisbee, biking, adventures, etc.- and great wine and food definitely top the list. Bill and his wife Martha are avid wine drinkers, and he gave me a head's up that we would be drinking a fine Bordeaux this evening. So I planned the meal on the way home from work, and solidified my plans after shopping for some delicious cheeses. Let it be known that I have a new favorite place in San Diego. Venissimo is a artisan cheese shop in Mission Hills and I have already fallen in love. I picked three different cheeses on recommendation from one of the employees based on our wine plans. Stopped at Henry's on the way home and finished my planning/shopping. Our menu this evening consisted of- cheese, prosciutto, and crackers; roasted asparagus and carrots with fresh thyme, garlic, olive oil, salt&pepper; mashed red potatoes with cream, salt, and homemade porcini mushroom stock. The kicker was in my humble opinion the best steak I've ever made. Thin cut New York strip steak, marinaded in soy sauce. Patted dry and rolled in a mixture of crushed dried porcini mushrooms, rosemary, and pepper. Pan-seared at high heat, and removed just in time. Poured some porcini stock over the veggies and potatoes and served with two different wines that Bill opened. One was a "left bank" Bordeaux (heavy on the Cabernet) and the other was a delicious Syrah. I couldn't really appreciate the Bordeaux until I chased the steak down with a hearty sip. Love. Defined. All said it was a great meal (and somewhat healthy) that I was proud of, especially for such last minute planning. But above that I was happy to share it with good friends, and it was a nice way to honor the occasion. We finished the evening with an amazing carrot-pear cake that Martha cooked. I could sit and eat that cake for hours.
Sometimes I laugh when I look at my credit/debit card statements, because the majority of my non-essential expenses are food-related. But I look at it this way- better fine food with good people than cigarettes, cheap beer, country music CDs, etc. with anyone.
Sorry I've been slacking on posting. There are a few posts in the works, I just need to learn a few new words before I send off my thoughts.
Wednesday night was supposed to follow a simple progression- a small dinner with a few key friends (Nilla was in town, Lisa was a few days away from ACL surgery, etc., etc.) followed by a nice bike ride to Hamilton's, which happens to be my favorite watering hole in San Diego. I got a little carried away with the invites, and a few people invited a few people...Next thing I know I'm cooking for about 13 people. I had a nice bike ride to the grocery stores, and I came home feeling refreshed and ready to cook. The menu was somewhat Italian, though not thoroughly traditional to any particular region. I made some sweet olive oil bread from scratch and prepared an apple-cinnamon compound butter to spread over the warm bread. I used a double boiler to melt the butter into the apple and spice mixture, and let it congeal in the freezer. It never ended up resembling solid butter again, which actually turned out pretty well. Imagine spreading creamy applesauce over warm and subtly sweet bread.
For the "main" course I made a series of calzonés, and I have to interject my opinion about the correct pronunciation. When I was in Italy, everyone pronounced the é in the typical dialectic fashion (mascarponé, buona notté, etc.). Upon returning to the US, the common pronunciation suddenly reminded me of a football defensive set, or a west coast voter's initiative. WTF. I'm willing to admit I'm wrong in the face of some hard evidence, but I maintain my position for the time being. Anyway, I ended up making about 13-14 different calzonés with a wide variety of toppings. Fresh chicken sausage, prosciutto, caramelized onions, garlic, tomatoes, cottage cheese (poor man's ricotta), onions, anchovies, olives. Either they were a big hit or my friends are great at bluffing. Dessert was, in my opinion, the highlight of the meal. I acquired an ice cream maker from my friend Jef, who is a fine chef recently removed from San Diego. I've been putting it to use lately, and last night I experimented a little and made pomegranate gelato. Very subtle, airy, and creamy with a solid body and slight tartness. I think I should make it again just to confirm it's validity in my repertoire.
Today was my good friend Bill Webb's 47th birthday. We share several loves- camping, hiking, ultimate frisbee, biking, adventures, etc.- and great wine and food definitely top the list. Bill and his wife Martha are avid wine drinkers, and he gave me a head's up that we would be drinking a fine Bordeaux this evening. So I planned the meal on the way home from work, and solidified my plans after shopping for some delicious cheeses. Let it be known that I have a new favorite place in San Diego. Venissimo is a artisan cheese shop in Mission Hills and I have already fallen in love. I picked three different cheeses on recommendation from one of the employees based on our wine plans. Stopped at Henry's on the way home and finished my planning/shopping. Our menu this evening consisted of- cheese, prosciutto, and crackers; roasted asparagus and carrots with fresh thyme, garlic, olive oil, salt&pepper; mashed red potatoes with cream, salt, and homemade porcini mushroom stock. The kicker was in my humble opinion the best steak I've ever made. Thin cut New York strip steak, marinaded in soy sauce. Patted dry and rolled in a mixture of crushed dried porcini mushrooms, rosemary, and pepper. Pan-seared at high heat, and removed just in time. Poured some porcini stock over the veggies and potatoes and served with two different wines that Bill opened. One was a "left bank" Bordeaux (heavy on the Cabernet) and the other was a delicious Syrah. I couldn't really appreciate the Bordeaux until I chased the steak down with a hearty sip. Love. Defined. All said it was a great meal (and somewhat healthy) that I was proud of, especially for such last minute planning. But above that I was happy to share it with good friends, and it was a nice way to honor the occasion. We finished the evening with an amazing carrot-pear cake that Martha cooked. I could sit and eat that cake for hours.
Sometimes I laugh when I look at my credit/debit card statements, because the majority of my non-essential expenses are food-related. But I look at it this way- better fine food with good people than cigarettes, cheap beer, country music CDs, etc. with anyone.
Sorry I've been slacking on posting. There are a few posts in the works, I just need to learn a few new words before I send off my thoughts.
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