The Windy City Effect

Playing ultimate in the Great Lakes Region, especially Chicago on the Lakeside has always been something of a problem for me. It is arguably one of the worst places to play ultimate outdoors. It gets bitterly cold quickly, the wind is relentless, and the summers are hot and humid. When you're playing a long tournament, heat and humidity can cripple the unprepared ultimate player. Ideal conditions are what I imagine California to be like a lot of the time; 70ish weather, calm and clear.

One would think that the winds on the Northwestern Lakefill have forged our team in to elements-conquering badasses. This is somewhat true, we are very competent when the weather is nasty because our zone defense and offense is pretty solid (at least compared to our man-defense/offense). But is it really all that fun?

What is fun about ultimate? I've thought about this a lot. I haven't played a ton of different sports, especially not to any seriously organized extent, but ultimate certainly has an incredible and growing appeal. I think a lot of it is the players' potential to do so much. There aren't very rigidly defined positions in ultimate (as compared to other sports), and the best players can do everything. And everyone on the field is running, throwing, catching, diving, jumping, etc. You get to do it all! I've played as a center in basketball and a lineman in football, but neither can compare to the diversity that ultimate offers (though nothing was worse than playing DH in softball). Anyone on the field can make a huge impact, can make a game-changing play, but at the heart of the sport is teamwork. No one person can do it alone, so success depends on everyone doing everything well together.

And then there's the physics and mechanics of the game itself. The first layout D I ever got was one of the best feelings I've ever had. You're running your ass off trying to put pressure on your man, then the offense makes one small error, a barely underthrown pass and you POUNCE. You don't know for sure if you're going to get it and then there it is - you just get a finger or two on the disc as you're flinging your body through the air, one last desperate attempt to change the possession - a dull and unceremonious *thunk* is heard, and the disc veers off course, harmlessly hitting the ground. The pain of hitting the ground in a barely controlled crash is non-existent, you are JACKED UP on adrenaline because your sideline is cheering so loud. Now I'm on offense, I'm going to make you pay for that mistake.

I understand the dramatization of an athletic play in prose could make any sport sound like some kind of epic event, but I think there is nothing more glorious or representative of the sport of ultimate than laying out. And after you get your first couple layout D's you start learning how to create the situation for yourself. Standing a few steps behind your guy on the breakside, luring him in to a false sense of security, the defensive pressure is up, he makes an in-cut, the handler anxious to get rid of the disc throws it, he doesn't want to get stalled, you follow him in and your angle of attack is open. You won't always get it, but when you do the feeling of a simultaneously calculated, reckless and somewhat desperate plan working is exhilarating.

And then of course there's the art of skying someone. For those who don't play ultimate, the word "sky" becomes a verb in the sport to mean jumping up and claiming the disc as yours before your opponent can. Some would say simply knocking the disc away or preventing your opponent from catching it on offense is "skying" someone, but I think the verb should be reserved for catching and dominating. This is an aspect of the game that is truly unique to ultimate. A disc floats unlike any other object and once it is launched, it becomes a race. Usually the offense has a slight advantage, but the players involved are running their asses off to establish position at the spot where they can get the disc at their highest point. Speed and vertical jump are both crucial. Even someone who has a huge reach and vertical jump can be beat by someone smaller who has established position (see Alex Nord vs. Buzz Bullets, ECC '07). A lot of the time someone can simply reach the disc at a point that you cannot. Spectacular things can happen during this contest. There's physical jockeying for position, and once the moment of attack comes it is gone in almost that same instant. One person has skyed the pants off the other, and often the victim is briefly unaware that he has just been dominated. The feeling of successfully skying someone is both predatory and fulfilling. Getting a lay out D a lot of the time requires an offensive error. Skying someone is much more about a contest of wills, bodies and precision between two (sometimes more) people. It is the pure establishment of dominance.

Now back to my issue with wind. Wind changes everything about ultimate, because the unique object of play is so susceptible to it. Frisbee novices may find it nearly impossible to throw accurately in wind. Zone defense becomes the strategy of choice, and the game becomes less about athleticism and endurance, and more about mental poise and patience. A defense will try to force an offense to throw as many throws as possible by eliminating open space as opposed to open players. I could go on and on about zone defense/offense, but bottom line is I think it's boring and frustrating. I consider myself pretty good at zone offense, perhaps one of my strongest games, but I still don't find it that enjoyable. Errors become common and expected which is always a problem with someone who stresses consistency. Very often a team will patiently work a disc all the way against the wind only to turn it over on the scoring throw. It's heartbreaking and infuriating. I don't feel good after beating or losing to a team with zone. It's an honest strategy, but it feels like a dishonest win.

So is ultimate in extreme wind really proper ultimate? Ultimate is definitely meant to be played outdoors, as most sports are. And the weather and the elements can be a challenge that must be overcome in any sport also. But is ultimate the exception, just because of the unique object of play? Even if the conclusion is made that wind/zone is kind of bogus, an unfortunate factor of the game, is there really anything to be done about it? Probably not. So I guess on Saturday morning, if you see the weather is going to be hell, bitch and moan all you want, but man up and do what you can for your team. But trust me, I'm going to bitch and moan plenty.

EP #6

A Harsh Kitchen Lesson...

So Friday, July 31st, I was on the receiving end of one of the universe's flawlessly executed lessons in humility and patience.

I borrowed Paul's bike to go to work, which marked my very first bike ride in traffic with a destination in mind. I kind of imagined someone yelling excitedly, "You're doing it! You're doing it!" as I rode down the streets of Evanston, oblivious to traffic. Since almost no one except man-childs like myself get to experience their first bike ride as an adult, this was pretty sweet.

And I mention the bike ride because I was feeling pretty good about myself (I know, I'm easy to please) and I had another first accomplishment in the kitchen. I was slicing onions, and after months of practicing I finally started cutting them with proper technique and speed. I tried practicing with whole celery plants at home, and much like my cello practice, I got impatient and tried to rush and tried to be all fancy. This hampered my technique, but finally in a professional kitchen it came out right. Once again the words "You're doing it! You're doing it!" rang through my head, and I mowed through a dozen yellow onions in like 5 minutes.

And then karma, or God, or someone who wanted to remind me that I need to keep it in check, struck with great vengeance and furious anger.

Our sous-chef, Chewie, was joking to me about how culinary students aren't always all that great. How some of them don't even know how to hold a knife, and that their last intern cut herself a lot because she didn't learn proper technique. Well I was haughtily swording onions, look at me! I'm going to be way ahead of this chumps when I get to school, for I! Am all that is man! And before a chuckle could escape my lips, I felt a terrible pain in my left hand.

Chewie says, "Oh shit man." And I go, "FUCK FUCK FUCK!" I just sliced off big chunks on two of my fingernails and it hurts like a bitch. I like to think I have a high pain threshold (At least that's what my tattoo artists have told me .. and apparently Asians have higher thresholds in general.) but this hurt bad. I ran it under cold water. Even worse. I was bleeding everywhere. I sat down for a sec and wrapped my hand up, held it above my head. I'm not usually squeamish about blood but I was really light headed. My poor mutilated fingers. Shit, shit, what if that really is the end of my cello career?

Well, turns out I overexaggerated because here I am on Saturday and the pain is almost completely gone and I can type again. But I seriously felt like a) an idiot, and b) a bitch. My exuberance and excitement at believing I just leveled up my swordsmanship went crashing through the ground. Chef Jeff and Chewie comforted me saying this will be the first of many injuries, you'll burn yourself soon enough (oh wait already did that at Oceanique. Damn.) You drive a car, you'll get into accidents. But I felt stupid. And weak. I had to sit out from work for 15 minutes because I was dizzy and my hand hurt. Kitchens are like battlefields, and I left my troops in the trenches taking 'nades! On a Friday! With parties and customers coming through the door! ... Wait, I thought this was supposed to be a battlefield ... I mean the word "Fire!" is even shouted out all the time, except in the kitchen it means "Finish cooking it now! It needs to go to the table!" as opposed to "Shoot that motherfucker in the face!"

The rest of that day was kind of a blur. Working was kind of difficult because my left hand legitimately was bleeding a lot. I couldn't really grip or carry anything heavy, and that is a big part of my job description. But the universe came along again and gave me a gentle nudge in the right direction. Apparently some kid shows up and he's a vegan. I mean a child, whose parents are raising him as a vegan. Before I go on I just have to say, Are you fucking kidding me?!?! I have been told that you can raise children on a healthy vegan diet, but CMON!! McDonald's is an important part of everybody's childhood. I mean I probably would be your typical scrawny Asian if not for all the Big Macs and subsequent growth hormones I ingested as a youth.

Anyway, Chef Jeff needs a vegan snack plate for the poor bastard and wants strawberries, apples and carrot sticks. Now it just so happens that I was reading "The Art of Simple Food" by Alice Waters the night before and was like, "Hey, I'm not sure I totally know how to cut carrots into batons." And hence I read that brief blurb in the knife skills section (you cut a section off the carrot to create a flat side to rest it on. The more you know *ding*). So when Chef Jeff barks the order I'm like, Holy shit I know how to do that and I don't have to look like a total noob. Gloved left hand and knife in the right, I cut up a stack of carrot batons with perfect technique. The universe, or something, has reminded me to take it slow and learn things the right way.

Harsh fucking lesson though. Dick. .... or Bitch.

Side note: I have to mention the cold apps/dessert guy, or El Maestro.

Now I had to ask, why is this guy called El Maestro? He's a goofy Mexican guy in his late 30s, and he doesn't speak any English. Which by the way makes my job incredibly difficult. My Spanish has improved exponentially in the past 2 weeks. He thinks strawberries are called raspberries, and that raspberries are called strawberries. Well everytime he asks me to get some I figure he mixed it up and is talking about the other, but turns out my prediction is wrong and he actually got it right this time and I got the wrong kind of berries. Great.

Anyway I ask Chewie, why is he The Maestro? Well Chewie responds with a smile,

"He used to be an instructor in Mexico. But here? He fucking sucks."

Probably the most hilarious and harsh nickname ever. Then I ask, what kind of instructor?

Jorge, a waiter responds, "He was a construction foreman. He taught people how to not get killed by people like him."

Even better. Turns out his real name is Arturo, and the cooks tell me he's on the run from the federalis for murder. I'm 90% positive they're joking, because El Maestro doesn't look like he could kill one of the chickens we cook for dinner, but I'm sure that's what a lot of poor bastards thought before they got BOOM! Headshotted, GG.

Okay that's all, bye bye.

EP #6

Chef and Athlete .. Can they coexist?

http://linecook415.blogspot.com/

I've been reading this guy's, Richie's, blog. It's wonderful. A real, honest look at what it's like to be a cook on the line. I'm not sure where he works, but he's based out of San Francisco. From the general tone and description of his blog I'm guessing he doesn't work at Chez Panisse. Alice Waters seems way too chilled out to stress people out like this. Though that is probably an incorrect assumption.

Anyway, his latest post is on the tolls being a cook takes on your health. I'll just block quote it for you, even though all my fancy, schmancy writing professors here at NU tell me that's wrong to do.

"The whole "never trust a skinny chef" cliche is well known; what's not well known is the amount of energy and level of fitness needed to work on the hot line. Cooking professionally means being drive yourself to excess...the job demands it. Day after day, you will be surrounded by addicts and fiends...even if their only craving is a duck liver pate. There is little balance in the life of a cook, which makes no sense. Cooking is all about balance. It's about finding that place between punishing and rewarding yourself. Most cooks take the reward portion too far."

How true. Even though I have limited experience on the line, I see the poor bastards there practically having their fat rendered before my eyes. I put down probably two pitchers of water a night and I'm still dehydrated at the end of it. The grill chef is drenched every time I look over. But he's still a pudgy guy. Even though cooking is strenuous it's not real exercise. And then you put down delicious food at family meal, take a nibble of that, a nibble of this. Diet and exercise work best in combination.

But I get it. Even through just 4 days of work I tried to wake up in the mornings and go to the gym. Not only was my motivation at rock bottom, but my low energy levels served as a veritable ball and chain that slowed me down. I lifted like a little girl and I could barely run before I was putt-putting out like some kind of American made car. Like a Ford. Yes, direct jab, taste it Jiwon.

And after a stressful day at work what do you want to do? Well you're kind of jacked on adrenaline (at least I usually am), and all I wanna do is have a beer with some friends and talk about fun shit I missed out on and fun shit I got to partake in whilst in my culinary dungeon (with windows!). And I wanna dance! Forget girls, I just wanna dance! Okay that part not really true. Well not 100%. ANYHOW, it's definitely not discouraged to come to work with a rockin' hangover. You wake up, have a cup of coffee and go at it again with your tank at 50% and your engine all clogged up with gunk. (Last car metaphor I promise. Creative juices running low .. -.-)

And I'll be working weekends eventually for real, which means I can't take off to play ultimate whenever I want. What sad, sorry state will I be in 4 years from now? Well I refuse. I've been unhealthily overweight at one point, I don't wanna go back there. So maybe that's my advantage. I know what the dark side is like.

I need catharsis. I need to bring my body to a healthy state of homeostasis. I need to not smoke or drink for a while, and get in really good shape while I still have the time. Because frankly it's a lot easier to maintain health than to achieve it. Though it's artistic and kind of badass to look at chefs like Marco Pierre White who are effin' rock stars, work all day, party all night, smoke like a gangster and drink like a champion, I also don't want to die early.

I went to a conditioning workout ran by Zaz, and that 50-year old man kicked my ass. He out-ran me, and I consider myself to at least be in decent-pretty good shape. Then his family came along, the group of Zazzles, and that kind of hit it home. Being a cook is a hard lifestyle, potentially a life-shortening one (Fun fact: Only profession proven to shorten your lifespan? Truck driving.). With all the difficult balances I need to make with the other parts of my life that I love, my friends, ultimate, music, I don't want to end it prematurely because I really pushed it too hard. But then again, if you want true success in this business, you have to push it too hard. What a conundrum...

NURD, I hope you guys benefit from my new, reignited health regime.

EP #6

Ventures in to the New Kitchen

So my first weekend at Va Pensiero is done with and all I can is, what a weekend.

I worked Wednesday through Saturday starting at 2 PM everyday and ending around 10-11 PM. The kitchen at Va P is at a level that took some adjusting to. There are way more customers with the kitchen trying to produce 100+ covers every night, the space is huge (a kitchen with windows is a wonderful rarity), and the pace is fast. Chef Jeff runs a tight ship and definitely had a busy weekend, and I like to think he was relieved to have an extra serf lying around to do his bidding. There are a couple of interesting things about this restaurant that I was very pleasantly surprised to discover.

The staff is the definitely the first thing. Like many kitchens and restaurants (especially those in the 'burbs), this place is staffed mainly by Central American immigrants. But even though there is lightning fast Spanish being spoken, I was really surprised to discover that the wait staff speaks perfect English. Like had I just heard their voices I would've thought they were your average ole' Americans. Everybody takes their job seriously, works hard and I like to believe is genuinely interested, if not passionate, about the restaurant biz. The sous chef, Chewie, is incredibly kind and helpful and I really look forward to working with him throughout my time here.

The work is also way better. I guess Jeff and Chewie trust me to work with food a lot more than my previous employers, and I've gotten to do some really cool stuff. I manned the grill station for a little while and that was incredibly exciting for me to be on the line, even in a small capacity. When people joke that cooks literally cook themselves throughout their careers I have found that that really isn't a joke at all. The grill is blazing, fucking hot. Obviously these guys are used to it and have desensitized themselves to heat, but even reaching towards the back of the grill with tongs, just for a moment, I find myself recoiling in pain, fearful of what must be the scorching remains of my hand. And these crazy bastards are flipping veal chops with their bare hands! I understand why chefs think of themselves as street warriors. And I guess I'm kind of a little girl, but my point is the grill and the line is fucking HOT. With saute pans flipping everywhere, huge pots of pasta water bubbling away, the grill slow-roasting me from a distance, and the convection oven burping holocaustal heat every time its opened ... let's just say it's a crazy experience. Crazy awesome.

Unfortunately, since Jeff isn't hiring right now, his kitchen is fully staffed and I couldn't stay on the line or at any one station indefinitely as there was someone already doing their job better than me. So I was "relegated" to an odd personal assistant position. I did a lot of prep work; cutting veggies (knife blisters FTW), breading lamb chops, shelling peas ... that kind of shit. But I was introduced to the creative side of cooking, which I had not really been expecting to participate in for many years. Apparently there are a lot of vegans these days and they always come unannounced and expect people to prepare shit for their special needs. Yes I am hating on you vegans. That's no way to live life. Anyway, a bunch of vegans showed up and expected something delicious.

Chef Jeff ANGRY!! He points at me and stares intentedly for a few seconds, I can see the gears working in his head. Then comes the command, "Lentils on the stove, now! Get me 2 bunches of asparagus, a few zucchini and tomatoes!" I'm still getting used to where everything is and it takes me a little bit to get everything together. I apologize, he responds, "Don't be fucking sorry, be faster." I am commanded to cook the green lentils, wash and shave the aspargus, and cut the zucchini on the bias and grill them with salt, pepper and paprika. Some time later everything is ready to go, he doesn't say anything about the timing and that is praise enough in itself. I'm on time, sweet. We plate. Rather he plates because I have no fucking idea what I'm doing or what he wants. Ring mold goes down on 6 round, white plates. A few spoonfuls of lentils go first. The shaved asparagus is tossed with olive oil, salt & pepper, lemon juice and goes on top. Grilled zucchini rounds circle the ring mold alternated with what looks like a tomato confit, though I can't be sure. Cream of balsamic (I still am not sure what that is exactly), quality olive oil artfully adorn the whole thing. The ring mold comes off and the shaved asparagus spills out into a beautifully messy pile of greens. That was intentional. Vegans, eat your heart out. Chef Jeff slams the table with finality as if to say "Suck it, bitches" and walks out to tell those PETA-loving bastards what he just made.

Just one brief anecdote about my time at Va P and I gotta say it was awesome. I was exhausted but beaming every day I came home. I don't get paid but this is a hell of an experience, I've done a lot of cool shit this past weekend. I'm excited to go back on Thursday. Next time I will have to describe the mushroom strudel fiasco/experience that I went through for unannounced vegetarians. What is it with you people?!? If you're going to be picky at least tell people ahead of time. C'mon!

Lovin' it.

EP #6

What Kind of Cuisine Chooses You?

I realize that because this blog discusses two very different topics that I have two different audiences. I think it's funny that a lot of people enjoy either the ultimate or the culinary related posts, and even funnier still that there are a few who like and relate to both. Anyway, my point is I will generally try to alternate between the two and try to keep the ultimate posts as user-friendly as possible, because I know that most people have no idea what we're talking about.

So yesterday, Thursday, I had a brief interview with Chef Jeff Muldrow of Va Pensiero in Evanston. Some of you have eaten there and told me wonderful things. I finally got my chance to eat there during graduation week, and though I was kind of drunk off expensive hooch, I also really loved the food. The restaurant has received great acclaim in the latest edition of Zagat (26/24/25) and was high on the list of places in the "Worth A Trip" category. Chef Muldrow is giving me a tryout on Wednesday (yes, cooks have tryouts ... my life is just one big tryout apparently) and then we'll see where it goes from there. But I'm hoping that this will be a very educational and helpful internship, that perhaps could turn into a paying job somewhere down the road.

Chef Muldrow gave me further encouragement in that I come "highly recommended" from Oceanique, and he was very supportive of me wanting to get more experience before going to culinary school. I was concerned that going to the Culinary Institute of America with my current level of experience would not have been such a great choice. I didn't want to start my career and feel like I was behind or struggling to keep up. Maybe you've never thought of it this way, but you have a decade of schooling under your belt before you head off to college. And though you do largely learn the most about yourself and develop your most crucial skills in college, that base layer is there for you so that you aren't thrown into the deep end. So that's the way I see it with culinary school. Diving right in seemed like a risky move because I was and am so eager to start my career. I remember when I first discovered I wanted to be a chef, that I was seriously considering just dropping Northwestern and going right in to it. Another year at Northwestern turned out to be crucial to my development as a person, and I feel that more kitchen experience will do wonders as well. So here we go, into the unfamiliar world of fine Italian cuisine.

But I was and still am fascinated with French cuisine. It cannot be denied what the French have done for food. Very few cultures have elevated food to such a high level of study and refinement. It was in France that the idea of the restaurant was created, where a la carte ordering was invented. The classique kitchen brigade, the fundamental techniques of French cooking have spread throughout cuisines around the world. Truly, food would not be what it is without the innovations those damned Frenchies have made.

So naturally, I always thought I wanted to go into French cuisine (though what that is today, is hard to categorize exactly). Daniel Boulud advises in his "Letters to a Young Chef" that you must choose a cuisine in which you are deeply knowledgable and passionate about. So what is French cooking now? Well since nearly every high-end American or European cuisine uses French techniques, it's hard to pinpoint the roots. I mean, a cuisine is a representation of a culture, essentially a geographic location. Where people lived, what food was available to them because of the climate, natural resources and biology effectively defined them as a people, as a culture. No one thinks of it that way anymore because you can have tomatoes whenever you want, not just in the summer, you can have cherries grown in Chile while it's still freezing balls in the Northern hemisphere. And because French cooking has now enveloped so many ingredients and foods that are not inherently French, it really is hard to figure that out.

I think that the same is not necessarily true of Italian cuisine. Yes, modern Italian cuisine encompasses ingredients and some techniques that are not originally Italian. But the food is still of Italian flavors. Whenever people think of French flavors it's hard to exactly figure that out, I think of a lot of red wine and cream. When I think of Italian flavors I of course think of tomatoes, olive oil, sharp cow's milk cheeses, balsamic vinegar, basil, etc. Italian food just seems so much easier to categorize.

So what's my point? I'm not totally sure haha ... I think I'm trying to say that I'm about to be hit with some knowledge, and that I'm excited for it. Through all my personal studying of the culinary arts, I have in reality been studying the French culinary arts. When I worked at Oceanique, Chef Grosz was very much of the French school of cooking. He modifies this dish constantly, but here's a picture of his Steamed Maine Lobster with Tropea Onion, Sweet Corn, and Purple Basil.



And what I made constantly; an amuse bouche of salmon ceviche, wrapped in leek, served with curry-carrot essence, basil oil, radish, purple seaweed, shallot and fried beet.

What am I about to learn at Va Pensiero? I get the distinct feeling I'll be reintroduced to my old friend, the broom, for a while and then relearn the absolutely enthralling art of cutting onions and garlic. Then maybe I'll finally learn how real Italians cook pasta.

Sorry if this post was kinda helter-skelter. Hope you all are doing well. Sandblast 2009 this weekend! Perhaps one of my last ultimate tournaments for a while. And it had to be beach ultimate, damn. I suck at beach ultimate.

EP #6

Potlatch 2009

Back from my last vacation for a while…

Sketch managed to get me a reasonable ticket to Seattle so that I could hang out and play Potlatch, what many consider to be one of the most awesome ultimate tournaments in the world. I need to give a brief history of Potlatch so that you can fully understand what it's all about.

Potlatch is organized by DiscNW and has been a tournament for over 20 years. The whole idea is that you play ultimate and after every game you exchange gifts and cheers with the other team. There are teams that play the whole thing hammered/high, and there are some very skilled and competitive teams. In its current incarnation, Potlatch has about 90 teams in attendance from all over. The fields are located outside of Seattle, and are some of the nicest fields I’ve ever played on.

Now for those of you who loathe the hippy, free-spirit side of ultimate let me tell you that this tournament is still really fun. I don't love the pot smoking stigma that ultimate gets and I definitely enjoy the competitive aspect more. But this tournament brought out my goofy, friendly side and I couldn't help but be beside myself with laughter throughout the whole thing. Now that my college ultimate career is over I realize there is more to ultimate than just sweaty gym dungeons and that insatiable thirst for going to Nationals. On the flipside of that cutthroat competition there is still that eccentric, fun-loving quality that the majority of the community enjoys.

The team I played with for the tournament was organized by none other than Andy Wade, Captain Emeritus at Northwestern. HumpFreeze from Flagstaff, AZ was a collection of Northern Arizona University ultimate players, Flagstaff flatballers, and Seattle ringers. We weren’t a very competitive team, in fact we went winless for the tournament, but they were a great bunch to play with. As I previously mentioned, after every game there is a gift exchange and what I will call a “Spirit game.” The Spirit game is just that, a celebration of ultimate’s “rulebook” known as “Spirit of the Game.” Every team we played had a unique game to play (many involved alcohol), and ours was the WHEEL. Frisbee House guests and residents will immediately recognize what a wheel is, as we have just recently procured our very own. It’s a Wheel of Fortune style spinner that is adorned with challenges, and is spun by contestants. Whatever slice of the pie it stops on, you are condemned to that challenge. My favorite, and most common challenge was the Sponge Bob Suck Job. Wader and his buddies took a Sponge Bob pinata and turned it into a beer bong, and the spigot was conveniently located where Sponge Bob’s junk would be. Challengers would have to get into fellating position (on your knees, bitch) and suck down whatever liquid was in the funnel. The nastiest drink I saw go down? Beer + coffee on Sunday morning, about a 150 ml sucked down 3 separate times.

And that sort of merriment was had throughout the whole tournament. We quickly became the infamous “Spin the Wheel” team, and after Friday night I quickly became “the wine guy.” Me and Sketch patrolled the Night Bacon party, (a team so named because they cook bacon at night … yeah, that’s it) with two bags of wine and made a lot of friends doling out bag slaps. I could go on and on about the goofy shit and fun games we participated in this weekend, but I’m still slowly absorbing it all. But things I learned;

If you EVER have a chance to go to Potlatch, GO. If you like playing ultimate and just having fun, it’s a great weekend. Even if you don’t like sleeping outdoors in tents (me), hippy ultimate (me), or spending money on flights (me), just try and go. All my fears and concerns were erased, and I had a great time.

I don’t play well when I drink. In fact I play and feel terribly. After Friday I decided I would save the drinking for the parties at night.

Another huge bonus of going to Potlatch this year was watching Team USA play. The showcase game featured Team USA vs. Team Canada, and though not the most exciting game, it is always a treat for me to watch such skilled players. The men and women of Team USA are straight ballers. When I watch them play I try to figure out what separates a player of their caliber from me and I’ve noticed a few things.

Athleticism is the big thing. Everyone on that team is seriously fast, lightning quick and dominates in the air. They play with such intensity every point because the team is so deep, and they go 110%. The marks are fierce and are all up in your business, the cutting is very physical, bows are thrown, a lot of jostling, but surprisingly clean play.

Now all that athleticism will only take you so far, so the next thing is straight skill. I’ve only been playing for 3 years and I come from a decent, but not elite program. I have to admit that despite all my studying and practice of the game that there is a certain part of the game I’m not going to fully grasp or understand. I don’t immediately recognize the difference, but the throws and moves of Team USA have a subtle quality that make them so effective.

Break throws are one thing. No matter how good of a handler you are, when you play a team like Team Canada there are going to be times when their defense locks down and the usual reset options are not present. Team USA and other high caliber teams adjust to that by being able to throw to any part of the field. Because even a great defense will be unable to completely shut down an offense all the time, so a lot of the time the best you can do is make sure the only open look is also the most difficult open look. Well Team USA could hit that open look more than 90% of the time, and that’s what makes them such an excellent team. The defense is playing a percentage game hoping that they will force enough of those throws to cause turnovers. This works well and the offense must respond by being creative yet consistent. The upline and dump reset were not always open, so I saw plenty of over-the-top and huge IO breaks.

Cuts were another thing that were hard to analyze. What made those cuts so good? Certainly the quickness and ability to change direction on a dime helps, but these guys just have sweet jukes. It’s the same thing when you watch basketball highlights where Allen Iverson or Chris Paul just breaks someone’s ankles and goes to the hole. It often looks like, “Well there’s a double crossover and a spin move, I can do that.” But my basketbal skills would say otherwise and I am still amazed at the play. So there’s some subtle quality about it all that makes them so exceptional.

The finals of Potlatch unsurprisingly pitted Team USA vs. Team Canada again. Kind of sucks for the other teams that usually would have had a shot at the Potlatch championship. But the finals proved to be a far more exciting game. The wind was high and there were some huge upwind hucks and air contests. Most impressive were the women of Team USA. They came up with some huge offensive layouts to save possession, and some absolutely filthy lay out D’s. I’ve never really seen women who play like that.

Anyway it’s back to Chicago, and back to the job hunt and organizing my life and “the future.” Seattle is a great city, and Sketch showed me a good side of it. The weather is really nice actually (hot during the day, but cool at night, not very windy), there is a ton of green and water, and is populated by some chill people (maybe too chill for some). It’s definitely on my list of places to set up shop eventually. And if you like ultimate, there’s no city better for that than Seattle.

Wish me luck on finding a good job. Pray that I can find a paying one.

EP #6

Passion in the Food Industry

I think this picture sums up this blog pretty well. On the top we have my very first kitchen scar. See I didn’t just choose the name because “walls” happens to rhyme with “calls,” (well … that was a big part of it). And most of you have told me you like the name and were either being genuine, nice or facetious in which case I love/tolerate/think you’re a douchebag. I actually have spent quite a bit of time scrubbing the kitchen walls at Oceanique. I think Chef Grosz realized that he hadn’t really scrubbed the dark, abyssal corners of his kitchen in a long while and that there was no better man for the job than the eager Asian boy. Oh and bee-tee-dubs Chef, the best way to clean a wall is NOT with a broom and a bucket of soapy water. C’mon! Anyway, one night I was getting down and dirty with the corners around the convcetion oven. Oceanique has been around for about 20 years and I’m guessing no one had paid attention to this deep recess for at least the last 12. And then I found out that convection ovens deal 41-49 fire damage in a radius of 3 yards (Okay that was really dorky … I swear I’m not really a virgin. In fact, Kim told me what a vagina is yesterday). Basically I’m saying convection ovens are fucking hot and give off a ton of heat. I’m sweating bullets as I’m trying to maneuver around this bitch and finally I bump into it, and just like that, first few layers of skin gone. Another fun fact; Oceanique’s kitchen is very close to the service area so we have to be relatively quiet. My immediate instinct is to scream like a little girl, but I stifle it long enough until I get to the sink and run some cold water over it. Enter the scar.

Now I say that picture represents the blog very well, because you’ll notice that below my elbow there is a long, dark ugly scar. Yes friends, that is of course a lay out scar. For those of you who have played Northwestern ultimate in the past 3-4 years, you probably can guess where that came from. None other than Trienen’s Fieldhouse, AKA the Turf Field. Before we got that nice, long field turf this year, Northwestern had the Brillo company install some of their trademark sponge pads in field form. That shit was the most abrasive and unforgiving surface to ever play sports on. It happened to everyone if you weren’t a complete pussy and laid out here and there. I’m sure Gaulton has never really had the skin on his knees or elbows come back completely, and that his body looks something like this scar. Conclusion, anytime you hit the ground in that place, just like that first few layers of skin gone. Nice layouts often were followed by “Nice bid! Now go find your skin.” Okay I’ve gone on too long about that stupid field. I’ll pull my old timer card and say you younglings should be thankful for the field turf and go on with the show.

So yes my mangled left elbow has become a pictuersque representation of my life. Injuries sustained doing what I love to do most. And that’s what I’m trying to get at today. Ever since I knew I wanted to be a chef and own a restaurant, I became more observant about everything and anything culinary-related. Every great restaurant I went to I tried to remember as much as I could about every experience; the service, the décor, the food of course, and that subtle quality that makes a restaurant go from good to great. I was fascinated by chef biographies and would often go to every good restaurant’s websites to find out how those chefs and their staff got to this point. There are some wildly diverse paths and there are some incredibly distinct restaurants, but I think I’ve found now what it takes to be successful, and what quality unites all restaurants that can be considered great.

Passion is the absolute most important thing. I like having this scar, because someday I will show it to people (these things don’t go away that fast, right?) and tell them that I spent weekends in college scrubbing neglected kitchen walls because believe it or not it was important, and in the end it was for something I love to do, and that’s why I am successful. And yes I say with confidence that I will make it because I have chosen to enter a field of which I am passionate about. I think Steve Jobs said it best in his 2005 commencement speech at Stanford University, “Work is going to be a huge part of your life, whether you like it or not. So you have to choose something you love to do. Because the only way to do great work is to be passionate about your work.” I think I’m blessed that I can say that I not only know this to be true, but that my family has accepted this is true and believes in my vision, and has pushed this inspiration upon me my whole life. My cousin, essentially my big brother, would always say, “The money will come. You just have to like what you do.” So I am lucky to be surrounded by people who believe in the passion of work, whereas so many other Asian families oppress their children into doing work for the money, not the fulfillment.

And that FINALLY brings me to my point about passion and the food industry. So many people open a restaurant because their number one goal is to make money. I wish I could flash a big, red alarm and sound an obnoxious siren. Or at least have Alex Trebek appear as a little angel/Canadian douchebag on your shoulder and tell you, “Negatory, Ghostrider the pattern is full.” Repeat after me; RESTAURANTS HAVE POOR PROFIT MARGINS. After you open your restaurant don’t expect to actually start making any money for at least 1.5 or even 2 years. They are a huge investment and don’t turnover money very quickly. So when the stat is put out that 80% of restaurants fail, this is why. People open a restaurant because they think they’ve always wanted to or because they want to escape their cublcle or whatever. I understand, most people don’t set out post-college and think they’re going to change the world one cubed desk at a time. Well they fail because they don’t know what they’re getting themselves into. Restaurants require a ludicrous amount of work, my mom has worked seven days a week, 10-12 hours a day for the past three decades. That’s what it takes to be successful, and many others go even harder. You can't push that hard, you can't do good work if you don't love what you do. And even if my mom complains about the hard lifestyle sometimes, in the end she loves to work at the restaurant.

There are all sorts of qualities that make a successful restaurant, a successful restaurateur. Luck is not a small one of them, especially if you hope to stay alive in New York. I'm sure I'll spend plenty of time discussing it as this blog goes on, but I just want to say that I feel ready. Now I just need to learn how to cook the right way. The French way.

So I'm in Seattle for now, gearing up for Potlatch. The Monrads have proven to be excellent hosts, and I’m excited to check out the Northwest. Seattle is on my list of cities to set up shop in eventually, so I’m definitely interested in the vibe and the seafood. The tournament should also prove to be awesome. Have a good weekend everyone.

EP #6