Give me an ideal city and this is what I’d come up with: A dense broad shouldered city with deep history, pride, passion, its own language, great food, an even better culture of drinking and dancing, art and architecture so uniquely its own that people don’t know what the fuck to think, where you don’t need a car to do everything you want, along a coast, and you can wear shorts ninety percent of the god damn year. Well no shit huh that’s Barcelona. Am I absolutely gaga over the city? Not totally, it’s maybe a little too orderly for me and over touristed. Yeah I’m a tourist, but who the fuck actually wants to see other tourists? But Barcelona is highly recommended and has something for everyone. Eight days in Barcelona and three in Valencia wasn’t enough time to get to know the elan vital of the places, well maybe in Valencia’s case it was, but I feel that we got to know them personality wise.

I should mention my own style of traveling. Maybe you don’t really care, but people travel for so many different reason I don’t want you to assume we are the same. It is okay if you are nothing like me. I think the best word for myself is that I am a Culturist. I love seeing the overall human experience with all it’s creativity, uniqueness, and suffering. And sometimes the best parts of traveling are experiencing things outside the human realm. Ultimately traveling isn’t enough because you need to spend time in each place. The world has gotten more expensive, violent, and restrictive so that isn’t easy. Long gone are the days of my old San Francisco landlady renting a truck and driving through Afghanistan with her group of feminists. So traveling these days are short escapes that allow me to explore a culture but also dig deeper into my own psyche. I didn’t know this until my early-20s, but coming home I always felt as if I left a part of myself elsewhere. I definitely feel like that with Barcelona. Sometimes you leave something and come back with others, possibly unwanted things. Unfortunately, I did come back with something perhaps depressing in one manner, but in the long run possibly enriching. It is up to me to choose on the outcome.

From the get go I should lay down a few things that were consistent or typical as far as I saw. Everyone under fifty years old seems to love eating kebab wraps, really they’re like gyros except have the cultural pervasiveness of burritos. Espresso is about half the price of the New York City Tristate Area and is essentially the same, that is 75% of espresso have that standard or basic persona and the really good stuff needs to be searched out. The beer can be embarrassingly cheap, and people easily start drinking it at 10am. A lot of people smoke, but it didn’t seem as bad as Paris. People in Barcelona walk rather fast compared to the rest of Europe and maybe even as fast at New Yorkers. And apparently nobody has clothes dryers in Barcelona unless you are rich.

Food, that is why one comes to Barcelona right? Sure there’s Picasso and Gaudi, but food is undeniable here. It has something for everyone from the penny pinching college kid, overly Spoiled Upper Class Twats (SUCT), fresh faced foodies, vacuous social media influencers, to regular schmucks and industry people like us. You can go high or low. You can even go abstractly ridiculous. I highly recommend finding a traditional Catalonian restaurant and eating anything with blood sausage, the face of an animal, or chickpeas.

We had clear objectives in Barcelona in regards to food. One was to put closure to my time in the food industry. Personally I’ve been living multiple lives with one being the food or gelato guy. It will always be part of me, but for me to move from one thing to the next I have to say okay it is over, so to speak. And being in Barcelona enabled me to put some of that in its place. When Jenny and I were in culinary school molecular gastronomy was at its peak. I’ll never forget being in Level 3 and some kid bringing in one of the El Bulli books. It was fucking massive and full of shit that looked like ancient Phoenician, what the fuck was that. But I searched this guy Ferran and was blown away. I couldn’t believe you could do this shit with food. It was theater and art. At some point I read an article about him talking about his creative efforts and ultimately concluding he had to create his own language or world. I had a lot of respect for that even though I wasn’t entirely interesting in molecular gastronomy outside of concepts of trying to get the most out of an ingredient. One can speak negatively of a genre of art, but a master’s power is undeniable. You can hate the game, but only a fool denies respect. After culinary school I was an empty pocketed 20 something and looked for my own path that eventually led me to gelato. The best Jenny and I could do was to go to Alinea in Chicago and it was mostly theater. The hot dog I had the following day was art. Catalonia was out of reach.

Now we had more means and time we decided to go to Disfrutar and Enigma in Barcelona. The whole molecular gastronomy era was absorbed into the mainstream so maybe where we were going was more museum than restaurant. That is okay of course. Disfrutar was opened by two people who met at El Bulli back in the day and Enigma was opened by Albert Adria, the brother of Ferran. Albert isn’t just the brother but was part of El Bulli back in the day. I even have his book Natura from during El Bulli.

The first thing I need to say about both of these restaurants is that the service is far and above anything in America and other parts of Europe. Yes, I’m looking at you Paris and Vienna. Chalk it up to the natural personality of Spaniards, but every single service staff in both places were at the top of their game. This was from friendliness, formality, movement, and personality. Shit some of them had the best skin I’ve ever seen on a human being. Funny enough during one of our meals I thought of the polar opposite: a rude and chaotic Chinese restaurant but equally masterful food. So was the food good? I’d give you a five second long blank stare and say: yes and no. It is creative, executed masterfully as I just said, and performed with the pacing of a philharmonic. But there’s one thing I felt they were lacking though it is something easily forgivable: because there is a lot of contorting of ingredients and because ultimately they are conforming to those spoiled upper class twats it tastes like a broken story like a book that just went into another direction out of the blue. We were here, there, and now where? I’m not sure. And this type of dining is completely dependent on the story unless of course you are a SUCT who needs to check off a box to compete with others. Like the New Jersey Devils this season I feel they are playing down to those lesser and people like Jenny, me, and hopefully you are dismissed. Cuisine can be so beautiful. It truly is art and that something I am determined to reveal in my book. But it doesn't and shouldn't be the sole domain of the wealthy. It's a lack of imagination and societal organization (not economics) that prevents really amazing food being available to regular people. At the same time the food industry along with many things today are flat. There isn’t much pizzazz in today’s world. But that is natural for being in the downward swing of a curve. Eventually things will tick back up. I know enough of history to know this is true. It just sucks that we all have to live through it, some have it a lot worse. To all those who have a creative impulse towards food, art, music, writing, nature, and beauty in general I encourage you to hone yourselves. Practice, refine, discover, taste, smell, and question. Go out there and stick your neck out. It is okay to look like a jackass. When the world comes alive again it will need a billion little burning heads of desire to make it beautiful. And I mean something deeply beautiful like a hundred thousand salmon rushing up a river or waves during a hurricane. It is hard being human. Our brains are too big and we can’t seem to not make things more complicated than they need to be. It doesn't help that the wider society is relentlessly bombarding us with content that ultimately is a distraction. There has to be a level of refusal in order to be free. Everything we do to be creative is to glorify that breath we take for granted.

Well I’ve kind of blown out the tires with all that. There’s plenty to see in Barcelona aside from food. Sagrada Familia is worth the money, just make sure to book your time ahead and don’t just walk up to it like us. It is more art installation than actual church. And speaking of art is the Picasso and Catalan art museum a must? Well, if you don’t care about art or don’t understand Picasso then why bother. At the Catalan art museum you can see all kinds of art from the Inquisition to the Spanish Civil War. If anything, it is worth absorbing as a whole to see the Catalonian experience.

Valencia was a whole other ball game. We came during their Fallas festival which celebrates the changing from winter to spring. And we had no idea this was going on. The city is loud and crowded, pure chaos. People are blowing firecrackers at all times even with some of those being more explosives than toys. At 2pm everyday it feels as if the city is under attack. And I just came for the fucking paella. We had it everyday there from typical to with squid ink. A black smile is a true smile.

I wouldn’t recommend going to Valencia during this time unless Fallas is your goal. And probably avoid summer when the Brits and Germans descend like locusts. But at some point we will return to Valencia to truly enjoy its many plazas. I want to enjoy my paella without bursting an ear drum. That being said I did get rather buzzed and enjoyed moving from one plaza party to another until past midnight.

In conclusion, if you are in Barcelona go to the tapas bar, kick sand at the beach, if you have the means go lick what looks like LSD off a white chocolate leaf, laugh at Picasso’s pottery, and take a moment with closed eyes in a church even if you aren’t religious. Art, food, genres of architecture, and great weather it has something for you. It is worth going just watch your pockets and don’t forget to get a kebab wrap.

Here are our recommendations:

*Note: Make sure you enjoy your time. Don’t take shit so seriously.

Ca l’Estevet: for Catalonian cuisine

Bar Canete: for fancy tapas

Mercat de Santa Caterina: for a food market and tapas

Bar Pimentel: for casual tapas

Bodega del Vermut: for tapas and Vermut (became our regular spot to enjoy the day and talk shit)

Los Tortillez: for tapas

Restaurante Futami: for sushi (yes you read that right, it’s really good)

Bismillah Kebabish: for some kebab

DeLaCrem: gelato (probably the better gelato I’ve had in years, not too sweet)

Disfrutar: high end splurge meal (make sure to enjoy yourself)

Enigma: high end splurge meal (the music in the bathroom was so psychotic)

Sagrada Familia: probably cooler than the place you worship at

Parc de la Ciutadella: to vibe off the people practicing drawing or painting and to enjoy the sun and plants

Barceloneta Beach: don’t think of it as a beach, think a park to hang at while dipping your toes into Lacus Romanus. Or fuck it just dive in the water was very refreshing.

Museu Nacional d’Art de Catalunya: for various art and views of the city

Park Guell: Gaudi designed park with views of the city

Bainbridge Island Japanese American Exclusion Memorial.

The Pacific Northwest is filled with wondrous natural majesty, and maybe so much so that it is heavily imposing on what American society exists there. Melancholy sure, but indifference and resignation seem to be current cultural norms. Is it the mountains, the Sound, and the grey sky? I felt as if I was in a place where they’d recently lost a war yet they, you, me are all Americans in our own land. During our vacation in the Pacific Northwest through Seattle, Olympic National Park, and Portland I pondered over this sense. It is the land of Cobain, Staley, and Earth First! yet is disturbingly quiet. Jenny and I could have gone anywhere in the world, in theory. But we chose this area because it was known for many of the things we grew up being influenced by. In Jenny’s case it was more aesthetics. For me it was the music, the melancholy, the trees, and monkey wrenching. Sometimes I like to joke that my worldview is FernGully.

And so more than Seattle or Portland I desired to go to this area for its beauty and symbolism against blanket industry. And it wasn’t so much surprise as curiosity that I found the place that should be the most against industrialism rather submissive to it. And I do not mean that there are factories scattered all over. Rather I am speaking of the higher industrialism of the cloud, AI, or whatever celestial tech that is consuming the world and attacking our humanity. And I rummaged over if maybe that is the war that was lost here. In New Jersey, we consume the same things but we may not be at this stage just yet. I always find the majority of New Jersey people to have adequate social skills, a sense of humor, and general self perspective, contrary to what the media loves to sell. Meanwhile in the Pacific Northwest I have never encountered such common social awkwardness except for on Bainbridge Island. This was evident in coffee shops, seafood markets, museum, and walking in a park.

The most beautiful beach I have yet to set my eyes on was several hours west of Seattle. Jenny and I had to walk an undetermined distance through fern covered woods to reach it. I say undetermined because I am reluctant to name this beach or else others will go. It isn’t just a beach with sand and waves, but it is a cove hugged with tree covered cliffs. When I stood on this beach and looked out into the ocean I felt as if I was in the attendance of the gods at their hearth. In a place like this you experience a sense of freedom where life is a deep pool beyond the chains of modern civilization. It is where a strange feeling of endless ideas and possibilities flood your mind yet they are all equally irrelevant in the presence of such benediction.

You can, but being here is everything.

Beyond this moment in our trip I find most everything else neither here nor there. Yes, there was coffee, salmon, thick boots, ferry rides, books, and the space needle. But even as I sit here back in Jersey things still rumble in my head. Maybe many in the Pacific Northwest have visited these same beaches and experienced such benedictions, perhaps not. When one experiences moments of stillness is the part afterward indifference and resignation? That is the challenge, of course, how to act when there is no path and what is required is to start walking. Sometimes being exposed to such beauty can be painful.

Jenny and I regularly went on late night walks to enjoy the city as if we were the only ones around.

Jenny and I have been back from Paris for a few weeks. I’m assuming maybe at least half of you have been to Paris before so it needs no fancy introduction. If you have not maybe this blog post will help you set aside time and a budget to visit the French capital. It is worth it if you are someone who either enjoys or likes the idea of seeing art and architecture along with eating good food and taking a well run subway system. It is also a good place to shop since you can apply for tax exemption. I don’t recommend going all out with the shopping, it is your money to spend, but its a tedious thing and the lines can be long. Jenny and I believe in buying one token to remember a trip. Sometimes it’s a nice Tuscan wallet or a funky pair of sneakers you can’t get in America.

The best croissant I had was from a street food restaurant.

One of the main things I wanted to do in this blog was review some restaurants and other food places. We went to them enough times to have a good handle of what they were trying to do and how well they could cook and serve. First let me say that I have started a culinary novel, I don’t know what else to call it, that is based on my time in the food industry primarily from 2006-2014, but also up until today. The majority of the novel will take place during culinary school in 2006 and move through all the food trends using my own personal experiences along with the many people I have encountered. I’m only in the beginning, but I’m rather enjoying myself. It does renew some of my love for the food industry considering I’m rather bored with it now. Being in Paris also helped to renew that love since there the little things are exponentially better than the big things here.

This past trip cemented what Jenny and I had been feeling for a few years now even before covid. Actually I don’t think I’m going to say anything amazing right now since many of you probably already knew this. The food industry is at a lull. Social media and an unequal balance of money is mostly the reason, but also that we’ve exhausted the trends that could possibly be flavorful. I’m staying away from social media’s influence in this blog post. That could be a whole other post, and I’m just tired of hearing about it. It’s like hearing about cancer, I’d rather not.

And this is why Paris was a relief for me personally. For one I did go to a 3 star Michelin place the second day I was there and it was terrible. Ok, I had a lamb dish that was one of the best I’ve ever had. But aside from that start to finish it was one of the worst experiences I’ve ever had in a restaurant. Some things were out of their control like the drunken WASP across the dining room, but it is how they reacted to that and basically the whole meal. Aside from the lamb all the other food was mediocre and there were 40 minute gaps between courses. And right after that meal I canceled anything we had lined up that possessed any Michelin star. I’m done with that, with San Pellegrino, and anything else. If you come by my house I have old Michelin guides from the 2000s and 2010s, and I’m embarrassed to say I have been to many stars. And consistently they’re just a useless measurement now. Finding a good restaurant has never been harder for us. Luckily, in Paris we were able to find a few with some being outstanding. Either way, for the foreseeable future any new place I will avoid anything above a bistro or trattoria. Plus I had the same quality of pork and other dishes at bistros than I did at any Michelin star. The only edge I could see between a high end place and a nice bistro was the quality of their sauces. And that’s not worth the price difference.

The first place I would recommend is Le Bon Georges. We had both classic as well as some more modernized dishes such as a mussels soup with saffron, fennel, and oranges. As you can see from the menu to the side it reads like a classic bistro. And it is, but the quality was higher than you’d might assume. Twice I had the Coeur de filet de cochon and I loved that dish because the pork was always cooked properly to medium rare and the flavor was that succulent porkiness. It came with a simple sauce with carrots that were just between soft and still crisp, perfect. Generally I don’t like cooked carrots, but this were spot on. The only thing we didn’t try on the menu was the Liver a la Royale, because I had my full of hare at another place, and the Lieu jaunt de ligue. The tartare was one of the better ones I’ve had because it was so clean and fresh. The Rise au Veau (sweetbreads) was both crispy and creamy. And aside from the Creme de moules my favorite entree was the Poireaux fondant haddock because it was excellent for this time of the year.

The place itself was classic French, and they were even repainting the outside in that typical French blue. Another good thing with this place is that when talking to people next to us it is their regular spot. I made a reservation weeks prior, but for our other visits I’d just ask my waiter and since it’s fairly busy we had to eat outside. It was usually 50 degrees, but they give blankets.

The wait staff all spoke English well, and most of them were full of bubbly friendliness. I would have been happy with quiet and efficient in terms of wait staff since I have little expectations when it comes to this, so anything above “too cool for school hipster” is great. I don’t know what kind of diners you all are, or if you eat out at all, but I’m mostly there to enjoy the food and talk shit with Jen or whoever I’m with. But if the staff are funny and welcoming I’ll talk for days. Unless things go downhill this is one of the places I’d recommend to come visit in Paris. Let me know if you are going though, maybe I can cash in on some miles and meet you there. Ideal meal: creme de moules, coeur de filet de cochon, a bottle of red, side of frites, and tarte fine poires. Their menu will change obviously, as most good places should, and I’d look forward to eating here in Spring if I was able. It is the ideal place to both enjoy food and talk a lot of shit while being in a beautiful neighborhood.

The second place I would recommend is Bistrot des Tournelles. This place reminded me of being back in culinary school because of the menu. But the food was better than anything some know nothing like me could cook. Jenny and I really pigged out at this place. I concluded that the only way I was able to digest the food was because I drank a whole bottle. But then that doesn’t make sense. Somehow I ate a lot here. And I’ll tell you right now that the foie gras is great, the oeufs mayo just classic, the lettuce salad was fresh and the vinaigrette was amazing, and the artichokes were delicious because of it’s sweet and saltiness, but I could eat the saucisson sec with every meal if I wasn’t going to die. My first bite and I said to Jenny, “now this is my shit.” We also had the filet de boeuf, daube de boeuf, poulet fermier, and noix de Saint Jacques. Oh and frites, and frites again another time. The only thing that was average was the noix de Saint Jacques, but like above average here around the tristate area. Then there were the desserts. You’d imagine I like dessert, and if so then you’d be right. But I’m very bored today. I’m sure someone will spit on me for saying this, well a pastry chef at least, but they’re thinking too much and giving too little. Cut back on the sugar and give more. I’m an American I like to be topped off properly. So please don’t give me some rectangular looking bullshit that has some savory element with a teardrop of chocolate sauce. Pour that sauce on motherfucker. I need my fix. Well, Bistrot des Tournelles topped me off so well I needed a digestif. Yeah, the creme brûlée is good, but the tarte tatin was as it should be: soft with that deep apple flavor and ice cream so thick you can smear it like butter. Speaking of ice cream the profiterole was my favorite dessert. You know how much pate a choux I’ve made in my life? More than I care to remember and good choux isn’t some joke. A lot of places do it wrong and it ended up tasting funky. And if you go to a restaurant that serves profiteroles and it’s not that thick slab of vanilla and drowning in sauce then tell them to close. Oh and speaking of digestif I had a few at my two visits here. I wish I had the presence of mind to ask for the names of these digestifs because one especially was delightfully fun. Maybe you don’t find alcoholic drinks fun, but they can be. But at the time I was busy talking shit about the positivity of negativity. I guess I’ll just have to come back and get the name of that digestif.

Bistrot des Tournelles was as bare of a bistro as one could hope for. It was clean, cozy, and not chaotic. The wait staff were just like Le Bon Georges in that they seem to have the concept of relating to people without knowing them. Is that such a hard thing? It seems so here in America. So do come to BDT and hopefully you’ll have a good meal and talk some fun shit. My ideal meal: saucisson, artichauts, poulet fermier, frites, profiterole, and digestif.

Another restaurant we would recommend is L’Ami Jean. I’m not going to write up a whole thing about it because we only went once. We planned on going back, but we ate so much and the food was heavy that I totally maxed out on it. The hare stew was delicious and reminded me of mole, my partridge was finger-licking good, the mashed potatoes proper, the red burgundy we drank was pleasant and refined, and the charcuterie fairly standard. I wanted the rice pudding and we did order it along with a chocolate mousse. L’Ami Jean is known for their rice pudding, but the mousse was a more interesting dessert. It was all the things you’d want in a chocolate dessert: sweet, chocolatey, salty, and slightly bitter. The rice pudding was thick and quite good, but not as good as I was imagining. Mostly it was just thick and I wish it had something to perk it up like candied fruit or caramel. The staff was friendly and personable but not overly so. L’Ami is definitely more of a tourist trap at this point, but worth it still. Just don’t be surprised if you are seated shoulder to shoulder with other Americans who are on their way to watch the NFL in Frankfurt or a French couple so enraptured with each other I’m surprised they didn’t have sex right next then and there.

That’s as much as I can say about Paris and food there. Below I’ll list some dessert and other food places we tried. This blog post is long enough and I was going to muse for philosophically about the non-food aspects of Paris, but I hope to put that into a separate blog post. I will also put up some food pictures below.

Other food places:

La Maison d’Isabelle for croissants

Gido for croissants

La Grande Epicerie de Paris for specialty food, and they actually have decent baguette

Philippe Conticini for pastries especially their Paris Brest

Le comptoir du Relais for a quick lunch. I enjoyed their Baba and squid ink risotto with shrimp

La Cabane Opium for oysters especially the Belon variety

I am grateful for what I am and have.

My thanksgiving is perpetual.

It is surprising how contented

one can be with nothing definite -

only a sense of existence.

Well, anything for variety.

I am ready to try this for the next

ten thousand years, and exhaust it.

How sweet to think of!

my extremities well charred,

and my intellectual part too,

so that there is no danger

of worm or rot for a

long while.

My breath is sweet to me.

O how I laugh when I think

of my vague indefinite riches.

No run on my bank can drain it,

for my wealth is not possession

but enjoyment.

Happy Thanksgiving everyone! Jenny and I hope you are with family and friends having a delightful time.

Oooooooh look at me I’m like everyone else working on a novel. Am I cool yet?

I have been toying around with writing a culinary novel for a while now. I thought maybe I’d start it in the new year, but after closing the store my back went to shit. At one point I thought I was going to become someone in a chair because my feet would consistently go numb. I had to rotate between heat and cooling pads to get the inflammation down and let the nerves relax. As I laid there rather panicky and dramatic with pain I said to myself well if you are going to be an invalid what better time to start that novel. It’s not like I can go for a bike ride and enjoy this Autumn weather. And I can’t cruise the backroads, I can barely get myself into the car without pain.

Personally, I felt like a grouch. What’s the name of that Sesame Street character in the trash can? That’s me. I finally had time to go to these restaurants here in Montclair or in the city and I was just meh. Meeeeeehhhhh. There’s a lot that goes into creating a successful restaurant. And you can only be successful if you are already a success. Does that make sense? A successful restaurant is where the food is pretty good to great; the waitstaff are confident, funny, and buzzing; the kitchen is clean, sharp, and dialed in like Jack Hughes on a power play. It is where the manager has drilled his staff so that each utensil is clean, in the exact place, and so on. The chef has tested every dish, the prep cooks have every ingredient as clean and pristine as possible, and the cooks have had their coffee or coke and stations are ready. And none of that matters if the restaurant isn’t buzzing. Success breeds success and there’s no point in playing basketball in an empty arena. It has to be filled with loud and eager fans so the room gets wild. And it is better to come crashing down than the slow drip death. Nobody ever remembers the one who went out with a whisper. This is the food industry, you never make Wall Street money.

Drafting this novel feels like a breath of fresh air not just because I am in physical pain, but it is lifting me out of this cloud of jadedness. I love food and restaurants. Growing up as a kid around New York eating at so and so place was the thing. Fuck those museums, that was old shit as the Germans say. Walking into those delis back in the 90s you could grab a slice of cheesecake and stand in line behind some Wall Street asshole or supermodel. When you saved up some cash you threw on a suit, yeah I had a suit as a kid what, and went to wherever the mayor or Barbara was lunching. There was one kind of food, French, and if you didn’t act like a millionaire one of those servers carrying 8 dishes at once would trample you like that dad from Lion King. I loved it. But it is more than that. I’m remembering the smell and sound of trout hitting a hot pan, the crisp bite of fresh lettuce, and the wondrous aroma of stock being made.

I don’t know if many of you see food in the same manner. Sometimes I feel like an old man who saw a whole school of art come and go but eberyone’s still talking about it like it’s cool. I thought about reviewing restaurants on social media for a time. Forget my own opinions on social media, I thought that well I know what I’m talking about and why wouldn’t you want to read someone who truly enjoys dining out. I didn’t expect to make money off it. Maybe I still will, but as of right now I’d rather focus on this novel. It will put me in a better place to enjoy things again. Waking up at 5am is about the same as I did when making gelato, and I find my brain most active and creative.

I’m feeling classy, maybe I’ll go out and buy some trout, almonds, capers, and turnips.

*Me walking the block up to the stoop.

Yo Salt what’s happening?

Man, I’m tired of this shit. Everybody always using my name on the block but it ain’t right.

They just don’t know you do they Salt?

Let me tell you, I remember a time when wars would be fought over me and now they abuse me on social media like life’s a damn joke.

You talking about that Argentinian or whoever cat that puts his hand all flouncy and sprinkles you on some steak?

Yeah, I’m an artist you know what I’m saying and they acting like they the motherfucker. I’m the motherfucker! Respect.

Shiiiiit Salt you don’t gotta get all angry with me. We go way back.

About that, sometimes you don’t add like me you should.

Yo, remember the time I had to go to the emergency room cuz of them kidney stones? There’s a reason.

Oh ha ha yeah I remember that. You were thinking you had some kind of constipation and were rolling around in the car and then the emergency room screaming at that front desk lady. She wasn’t having none of it.

Yo, I would have given her every dollar in my account to get the pain to stop. But turns out it was you lol. I had to scale back you know what I’m saying? But I got skills, you know thisssssss.

Yeah yeah I hear you. But I’m saying, I feel like I’m being abused. It’s like when I see my cousin Soy at them sushi places. I seen some of these guys, they’re usually men, swirl in a ton of Soy and wasabi into those tiny ass trays. They dip the whole sushi in, both sides! I nearly passed out. Soy was like wait to see what they do with me in wannabe ramen broth.

I don’t eat ramen.

Wait what? How you not gonna eat ramen?

Shit ain’t right 90% of the time. I’m more of a soba person anyways.

Soba… man you corny.

Yeah okay, what about the time I seen you tossed with those tiny fries at the French place. I sent it back… *looking right at Salt* two times.

Lol where?

I’m no snitch. And there was that other place that was all limp, also that other fried place, and *snaps fingers* the one in the city where they used to have guys hang in the bathroom to hand you towels. We seen Naomi Watts when she was dating Sabretooth.

The one where hot Europeans go?

Mmmmhmmm.

Yo, I comment on the owner’s instagram all the time that they need to stop with those short fries. But he’s too busy bragging at how much money he’s making.

Let’s rob his ass!

No no no. He’s a good guy. But I’ve been thinking about petitioning the government that places of business are required to get a license to use me. I used to be in tight the president back in the day.

Biden?

Lol no.

Trump?

That guy loves me, but no.

Don’t tell me Obama.

Oh no way, that guy never stopped looking in the mirror. I’m talking about my boy Slick Willy.

Oh yeah, that guy knew a good fry.

He’d steal a fry from a baby. I’m gonna try to text him if he can make a pitch to the bureaucrats. This is getting ridiculous.

Just hope Hillary doesn’t see that text lol.

Psssssh, Hillary a bigger fiend than he is.

Oh word? I just assume she only ate kale salads. Back in the day my Spanish teacher gave me a recipe for her cookies and one time I wanted to warm them up in the microwave and it nearly burned down my house.

Lol what the hell are you talking about?

Go search that recipe and try it. Just don’t blame me if you see sparks.

Speaking of cookies why are they always sprinkling me on them?

They’re dumb. I don’t know, rimming you on a margarita isn’t enough they gotta put you on some average cookies. Remember the time I thought Sugar was you and I sprinkled them all over my fries?

I do and it wasn’t as bad as the time you poured Vinegar thinking it was Soy over the fried rice. Why were you doing that anyway?

I was dumb.

Lol no doubt.

Listen, I gotta bounce but keep it real.

Real is all I do.

*Salt picks up the phone “Billy my boy listen I need a favor….”

You may have read me griping or sarcastically commenting on how flat the food industry is right now. Since we have closed I have been thinking about the reasons for this. There seem to be many reasons for this, many of out a person’s control, but these past few weeks I have been meeting up with people I haven’t seen for some time and also chance encounters in my wandering. And one thing seems to be a common thread: a loss or lack of lasting impressions. To be general, there’s not a lot of things worth remembering and many influences in life whether teachers, friends, or strangers may be more negative than positive. Usually I like to point the finger at social media or that we never have any time anymore, which are in play no doubt, but there are always wider and deeper factors at play. That is something for another time. For now on the surface when was the last time someone or something left an impression that helped you to improve or level up?

What does this mean? I’ll give you a few examples. I went to DePaul Catholic High School in Wayne, and I had two teachers who made a lasting impression on me. One was a gym teacher I’ll refer to as Coach Sis. The guy wouldn’t even remember me today, but his manner of going about things taught me about respect, honor, and knowing when to tell people to shut the fuck up. The guy was almost always angry, he seemed to hate everyone but his daughter, and unless my memory is fading I swear he started every sentence with “let me tell you something.” During gym class, lunch break, or random classes he would share his maxims about everyday life on various things like how to communicate properly, not to waste your time, standup for yourself, and be ready to go at all times. I’m not saying the guy was some genius, but at that time in my life, his mannerism and perspective is what I needed to take with me throughout my life. And I’m a better person for it.

Another teacher was a monk. Sadly, as I write this I can’t remember his name. He was a religion and music teacher. I’m not a Christian of any type though I have been accused of being a Calvinist, but I have a warm heart for people who take their faith seriously. And monks always seemed to be the most serious, they are like the mechanics working on cars and priests are like used cars salesmen. This particular monk helped me to be more critical about ideas and concepts than any science teacher I ever had. And during one particular class where we had to ring these stupid bells and read musical notes (it’s making me angry thinking about it) I learned the beauty of working hard to not only do something well but to do so in sync with others. Classes like that also taught me what awful sounds like and how to spot someone who is either a moron or doesn’t give a shit (they’re usually a moron). He taught me a kind of religious kindness, as I call it, where you open your heart to people but also expect them to put their heart into everything they do. It is of no good to be a child of a god in a god’s world when you go about life lazily. I’m not religious, by the way, but I agree with the concept, if in a sarcastic manner.

Even before high school there was Ms. Edwards. She was one of my earliest lasting impressions. She was a defiant woman who was all Jersey. Through her I learned to stand up for what I believe in, embrace creativity, and to critique the system. Without her I’d not have the strength to look at an issue and steer my heart towards the victims or marginalized. In the long run I learned about the value of redemption and things aren’t always black and white. At a young age she took us into New York City and showed me anime and movie that challenged what I understood as society at the time. She was the first person I encountered that took a moment to try and compress grief even if it was just about the death of Tupac.

There are countless others, who were of a particular standard, throughout my life who have taught me things along the way to level up (I’m still meeting people and leveling up). You also have to be open to these impressions and eventually trim the bullshit and keep what is important. No one person is an island. But things don’t get better, more beautiful, or more interesting if you aren’t open and focused on wanting it to be so. Many people who have made lasting impressions on me I don’t necessarily agree with on 90% of things, and that is okay. The point is looking for that high level shit and making it part of you. That is what I don’t see these days when I encounter people. I feel like many people never had lasting impression throughout their lives to show them how to strive for better standards whether in their work, relationships, and beliefs. You have to share with others if anything is going to get better.

But let me tell you something… I have no control over this and it is what it is, but I’ve loved cuisine all my life and it ain’t nothing to smile about right now. People can fight over left wing, right wing, capitalist, socialist, and whatever else. Just make some god damn good food. Don’t send out those damn fries if it isn’t proper. No, I don’t need some old bay seasoning or dill because they weren’t fried right. I’d rather have something seasoned properly than something piled with truffle and caviar.

Well, since we are closed I can go ahead and write about whatever. Jenny and I used to play a game called over under for each flavor. Like if we thought the flavor was over or underrated no matter how much it sold. Here’s a list of the few from over the years.

Ube: OVER! Come on, let’s be real for a moment here and just say it: everyone likes it because of the color. I’m Filipino and I say it’s overrated. Besides have you ever eaten actual purple yam before? It doesn’t taste like that. The Ube you are eating in ice cream or bubble tea form is really food coloring and Taro. Go ahead and order some Taro bubble tea made with that taro powder and close your eyes. Tell me that’s not Ube! Towards the end of our run as APEM I started to add coconut extract to give it some backup dancers.

Hazelnut: Underrated. Man, please. You can’t get enough of the stuff no matter what. It’s the closest flavor to transcendence. I’ll go fisticuffs on the streets of Milan for some hazelnut gelato, though it should be said that some places skimp which is a terrible sacrilege.

Vanilla: If it ain’t the man himself, always going around creating problems then blaming it on other people. Underrated. Jokes aside, a good vanilla is as good as any flavor in the world. Bizarrely, Italian don’t know Vanilla like we Americans do. And the French… they can make a vanilla like Biden can rig an election. (You know that was a joke right?)

Oreo: Underrated. Well, it depends on how it is made. Those mediocre ice cream places barely put any cookies into the base. Blend that shit, blend it until it’s mixed like cement. Then go ahead and toss some in just cuz. An indulgent Oreo ice cream is the stuff of myths.

Strawberry: Overrated. I can’t… I just… can’t. I love strawberry shortcake and a delicious delicate strawberry cake, but in terms of frozen desserts it’s gotta be a sorbet. Strawberries are too watery and we used to even cook them until reduced to a thick sauce. Strawberries are magical, but they’re better simple with whipped cream and meringue or with proper shortcake.

Chocolate: Well that really depends. We have had some repugnant chocolate ice cream around America and also some in Italy. You swear some places only add cocoa powder yet charge you prime. Shhhiiiiiiitttt. If you want real chocolate frozen stuff then you gotta do some searching. Around the tristate area? Shhhhiiiiiiiittttt… I challenge you instead to making some delicious chocolate mousse at home. Get some chocolate over 70% cacao (the darker the better I say), a bit of espresso dust, vanilla extract, and unsweetened schlag and that’s all you need. Shhhhiiiiittt.

Butter Pecan: Underrated. How you gonna tell me that butter pecan is overrated. I mean maybe some places around the way make it wrong, but toast those pecans, sprinkle some salt, melt that butter until it’s nice and bubbly, maybe add some bourbon, a little vanilla extract, and mmmmmmm lemme tell you something: You can hang me Fort Worth style after eating a cup of delicious butter pecan.

Cookie Dough: Overrated. Sorry, Genna.

Taylor Ham: I don’t know we never made it. AND NEVER WILL!

Deep Pretzel: Underrated. You know this flavor with its chocolate gelato, chocolate covered pretzels, and bourbon caramel. I hated the idea of this flavor lol. But you guys were in control not me. My only job was to make it into something delicious. Here’s a side note: our code word for something going bad is “The Pretzel” in reference to the time that joker George W Bush was almost taken out by a pretzel or potato chip. “Hey Jen how’s the ricotta? PRETZEL! Shiiiiit we gotta get some more before Cheney gets here.”

Rainbow Cookie: DRAW. This flavor was a pleasant surprise to make. I love rainbow cookies, though I’m more of a sfogliatella guy, and it was a riff on Oreo. It’s good, but I’m not sure it’s that good.

Ricotta Strawberry: Underrated according to Jenny. Ricotta gelato with candied strawberries. We let the strawberries take a bath in sugar syrup for a day or two before using them. That process helps them to stay fresh, maybe even get better, and prevents those ice crystals from forming.

Alex’s PB Pie: Underrated. How could it be overrated when it has my name in it? But seriously though it’s a lot of peanut butter, pie crust, and chocolate ganache. America was built on these ingredients.

Amarena Amaretti: Underrated. Amarena cherries with amaretti cookies. First, we stopped making amaretti flavors because our supplier just stopped making them at some point during covid. And we could never find another place that makes them in the same manner that was cost effective. Any amaretti flavor is underrated in my opinion. I just love the crunch and taste and when you pair it with amarena cherries its totally legit. Italians are truly wizards when it comes to sweets. Italians and Austrians. The French…. “doing that iffy kinda sort of hand gesture” maybe.

Dannyboy: OVERRATED? Peanut butter Oreo. This kind of has to be overrated because it’s named after a customer who is a Rangers fan. The guy is cool, but the Rangers? Ugh. But for real though I used to call it the dirtiest flavor this side of the Mississippi. One weekend we totally ran out of milk and I wanted to make more of something/anything but at the end of our production cycle we can only make nut flavors. I told Jenny we will make Dannyboy but just go get some milk real quick at 7/11 down at Broad Street since it’s a dirty flavor anyway lol. I remember making that specific batch and being like yeah it’s dirty as hell, but of course good at the same time.

Black Sesame. Underrated. This flavor was always so good, but I feel like it only got play from a few customers. Maybe some people didn’t really like the idea of sesame or it was the color. People are visual, and I don’t think they realize that. In the first few years open and when I worked up front I remember people saying yeah I’ll take the red it’s cherry right? Naw, it’s October and that’s beet. Wait, did you say beet yo what kind of place is this? On the flip side never really liked making black sesame since it froze so quickly due to the fat content of the sesame, and it caked onto the barrel of the gelato machine which made it harder to clean.

Cheeky Bastard. Underrated. Lemon ice cream with shortbread and salted caramel. This is actually one of my favorite flavors. I grew up loving British desserts and also that specific kind of cheeky and dark British comedy from Matt Berry. The sight of him kicking that dog after being rejected is priceless. I always thought it tasted sophisticated even though the ingredients were just shortbread and caramel. It could have been in a scene of a Guy Ritchie movie where Boris the Blade was enjoying some Cheeky Bastard when Bullet Tooth Tony bursts in.

Eton Mess: DRAW. Vanilla ice cream with meringue and strawberry sauce. I’m undecided on this flavor since it’s quite good and I’ve always been unsettled it doesn’t taste more snobbish. That is of course because while the dessert Eton Mess isn’t, the school, Eton College, is the epitome of snobbery. I’d love to drive by and leave a flaming bag of dogshit at the front gate. I imagine a bunch of future crusty Brits with their striped pants and weird curved collars making goofy decisions that ruins the country while still being self assured they’re doing a good job. Did Boris Johnson go there because he seems like the type I’m referring to? He can sit around talking about ancient Athens or Rome then concoct some fantastical plan that makes things worse. It’s like those Ivory Tower morons at the big universities who look down on the rest of us with their lifted noses. There you go! We need an American Eton Mess called the Ivory Tower. Someone go out and invent a classical American dessert that is also a symbol of snivelry.

Doppio Espresso: Underrated. Anything with coffee in it is underrated. When I first moved to San Francisco I didn’t know where to start. I moved there to open a business and had to figure the place out. Well what better way than through coffee? I lived in North Beach the old Italian neighborhood and would walk all around the city to check the vibe and stopped in just about every coffee shop. By that time the third wave coffee or whatever they called it was in full swing, but not at its peak. There was Blue Bottle before Nestle, Four Barrel, Ritual, then Sightglass and Linea. God, that was all a big hipster scene lol. I’ll tell you what though… I had some damn good cookies at some of these places. And cookies I have yet to match after all these years. The coffee scene plateaued before everything else in food, but I still love the Devil’s Drink as I call it. Hell, I even bought my own espresso machine and drinking an espresso as I type this up. Forget all the fancy shit that can be said about coffee or espresso. I love it because I can’t drink jet fuel. I love the smell, the taste, the crema forming at the top, and the way it makes me feel. Well sort of, it may have induced a panic attack or two throughout the years. But it’s a wonderful addiction and in gelato form it must be as good as it can be compared to drinking a straight shot. So we tried to do our best with the doppio or double espresso flavors. To make something as its truest expression or damn near close is the spirit of Italian food in my eyes. I like to think we did that with this flavor. Once I get my gelato machine back up and running that will be my first batch. For now it’s one shot, two shot, three shot, four shot running down Grove Street in the rain.

Cardamom Coffee: Underrated. Well it is another coffee flavor, but it is underrated because of of its uniqueness. We never made it enough which is my fault. I made a lot of flavors because I love to travel and during covid that wasn’t possible. So I had to travel with the flavors. I’d be dishonest if I didn’t admit I am a romantic. To go about the world in pursuit of beautiful things is as vital to my life as drawing a breath. If there weren’t wars raging it was my plan to travel from Portugal to China whether by foot, wheels, or train. Covid put pause to that, and Putin buried it. The world has bigger problems than my own plans, but that middle part of the world was my real goal. The Ancient Silk Road was always a draw to me since childhood. Partly it is the movement of food ingredients, but also religions and ideas. I have a tattoo on my right arm of the Buddha and The Great Khan. They symbolized not just being Asian, but the duality of human nature or at least civilized human nature. Growing up in Passaic in the 1990s there was always some underlying threat of violence, but you learned to thrive off it and my happiest moments come from then. The history of the steppe always seemed like an extreme version of that, and so it always called to me as a place to go. And when I taste food from that region it tastes so natural to me like it’s home. Cardamom Coffee was one of the first flavors we made that I thought “this right here is why I make gelato.”

Feel free to email or message us more and I’ll comment just for fun.