Love Me Tendons...

Fee Fye Pho Fum

As anyone foolish enough to allow me to corner them after lunch knows, I love banh mi. I've even learned to make them myself. For those of you who have escaped my gastrological ramblings, a banh mi is a Vietnamese sandwich (they call them 'French sandwiches' from their perspective) composed of a baguette, pate, mayo, meat, cilantro, and pickled carrot and daikon. The meat is traditionally ham and head cheese. This head cheese is not the European kind, but sort of a 'stained glass' composed of cartilage and snout. It is really fun to pull the stuff out and make one's dining companion uneasy. It's my 'day off' tradition. Hard to believe I'm not married, huh?

Last week I was chagrined to realize my closest sandwich stand was closed due to a power outage. The restaurant next door, however, was open. I should have known better. This was a hardcore traditional menu, and totally intimidating. I ordered pho, but not 'white boy' style like I should have, the 'nasty cuts' way like I'm Anthony Bourdain or something. What arrived at my table was approximately 2 gallons of broth and the most unreconizable pieces of mystery animal I've ever seen. I recognized the inner stomach lining thanks to dim sum with a Cambodian friend, and I knew I could eat that. The rest looked like slaughterhouse floor scraps, blood vessels, huge chunks of cartilage and tendon, maybe some intestines. I tried to eat it but my brain wouldn't recognize it as food and my hand wouldn't lift the stuff to my mouth.

I went to a friend's house afterwards to show him the 'to-go' contents that the server insisted I take home. He was equally grossed out and flushed it down the toilet rather than have it fester in his trash. The moral of the story is when experiencing a new culture, take it slow. Just because you enjoy the head doesn't mean you'll like eating the rear.

The Bitter Truth

Bitters are a wonderful thing, sort of a bartender's best friend. I was able to cure nausea with it the other night, as on other occasions it's been an anodyne for everything from hangovers to hiccups. Beware any bar without bitters, seriously. The thing that's interesting about bitters is that there is nothing to them but alcohol and a few semi-mysterious herbs like gentian root (the key flavor of Maine's favorite- 'Moxie'). The key ingredient is faith in its effectiveness. I like to use lemons, limes, honey, sugar, cherries, even salt, in mysterious preperations for the patient. While she watches, I am a modern day houdoun or alchemist, making strange gesticulations and macerations to build belief in the magic of the final product. What she ends up consuming is a big dose of Mary Poppins, but it works.

Stoke City

I saw a Manchester United match the other day and they were playing a team called "Stoke City". This is the raddest name ever for a town. It sounds like it should be populated by surfers, snowboarders, mountain climbers, and extreme athletes of all types. I expect that the rivers there are full of Red Bull, and in the morning Mountain Dew collects on the grass. Their rival should be Psychedville, and they compete to see who the gnarliest dude is every year. I'm sure it's just another mid-sized city in England, and not that 'X'-citing, but a man can dream.