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25.08.08
The winds have changed. A chill remains, despite the sunlight. Evening fogs the windows of cars, unused to such phenomena. I’ll be headed back to the suburbs; younger, more eager, more financially willing people are to claim this space. I have settled on these surfaces, quiet as dust, and these objects have impressed their shapes into my mind, landscaped the geographies of home, become familiar, present in the darkness of my closed eyes.
Next month I will cross the ocean, live my history, enter the memories of my blood, see through my Grandmother’s eyes, swim alone in the paths of sea turtles, and return to a different life; a previous one, and a new one, as known as the trees of my childhood forest, as mysterious as forgotten whalesong on a foreign shore.
18.08.08
One of the benefits of any job is if you come out of it with transferable skills. Sometimes you never know which skills will come in handy. For example, as a research assistant in an ecology lab, I spent hundreds of hours searching through dirt under a microscope for any arthropod content (i.e. creepy crawlies). The slightest bit of bilateral symmetry, or the merest hint of a jointed appendage or segmented exoskeleton stood out like red flags.
So today is my Father’s birthday, and this weekend the family went out to a fancy restaurant (do you see where this is going?). The lobby of this place, beneath the exposed beams and around the walk-in fireplace, is decorated with urns of Phalaenopsis orchids interspersed among the many awards and accolades the restaurant has received. The wait staff is in shirts, ties, and long aprons (the Maître’d leveled up with a waistcoat) as they serve only from the right and remove only from the left in the order of women before men, then descending age.
We ordered appetizers; I got a nice crab salad, which was a bed of crab topped with ribbons of mango, a chiffonade of basil, a halved cherry tomato and micro-greens. The table also had a smoked salmon dish that resembled a fruit roll-up sized square of vibrantly pink fish topped with similar greens and an octopus salad that turned out to be very much like a standard Greek salad with bits of bland octopus confetti that had a texture reminiscent of canned cephalopod.
For mains, four of six diners, including myself, ordered the halibut entrée; a decent chunk of fish topped with tomatoes and basil, served with smashed potatoes and chives, eggplant and roasted garlic, and Swiss chard. With military precision, the entrees arrived simultaneously in the arms of the waiters. I was served last, being male and the youngest, and everyone began eating with enthusiasm.
Interesting, thought I, they’ve used dried shrimp. Dried shrimp are a standard part of Malaysian cuisine (and other Asian food, I’m sure). Small shrimp are beheaded, and then dried with their shells and legs on. These are added whole to dishes for a strong shrimp flavour. Japanese eggplant fried hot and fast with garlic, dried shrimp, chili, and a bit of brown sugar is one of my favourite preparations. In my current dish, however, this seemed out of place, so I investigated the legs and segmented body peeking out from behind a small piece of eggplant. I pulled out a beetle larva an inch long; a maggot-like apparition with a bloated white body, and three pairs of short legs under a small brown head, cooked until tender.
I began trying to catch the eye of a waiter discreetly, though it wasn’t long before my Mom noticed I wasn’t eating.
“What do you need?” she asked.
“A waiter.”
“Why?”
“There’s a foreign body in my food.”
“What is it?”
She was eating the same dish. “You don’t want to know.”
Eventually I flagged down a waiter. Now there were many jokes to be made: grub in the grub, extra protein, the only thing worse than finding whole one is half of one, etc. Instead I went with the straightforward “There’s a beetle grub in my food”.
What happened next is a bit of a blur, the offending plate was whisked away, several staff members came by to apologize profusely, they tracked down the source of the insect as the Swiss chard (I wonder how exactly… did they find others?), and wanted to reassure me it wasn’t the fish (if anything, the fish would have had fly maggots), they asked if I wanted to change my order, I said I was fine with the same and they said they’d rush another one out.
A very short time later, another dish appeared in front of me. I did a cursory inspection, though I was sure it was already the most scrutinized plate of the evening. It looked fine, and was very tasty. Our waiter and the Maître’d both stopped by to make sure I was alright (I opted not to tell them I was a biologist, nor to share the bugs in the food stories that I’ve already told you).
We finished our mains and dessert menus were brought out. We opted instead for coffees and teas, and were thus surprised when a round of mini chocolate cakes filled with caramel was brought to the table. About this time the term damage control was floated in the conversation. The desserts were accompanied by soup spoons, which were larger than the cakes themselves, though this didn’t detract from their delectability.
Later, the Maître’d brought by the bill and announced “We’ve taken care of your mains.” With six entrées, this meant they took about a $200 hit that night, hopefully as a general loss instead of out of the pocket of some poor prep cook.
More apologies were issued: “That doesn’t happen here,” said the Maître’d, which was funny, because it did. Still, we were more than recompensed for the inconvenience, and I’d have no reservations about going back. Indeed, who would have known that being able to spot dead bugs in large amounts of detritus would turn out to be such a valuable life skill?
14.08.08
The cloudless blue skies have had me yearning for the beach all week. Lunches were never conducive to making the hike for a
short sun break, and then having to return to work sweaty. Today I wandered down after the day was done, as did many other people. I found a
log that perched on some rocks above the high tide and lay there, baking happily (don't worry, I used sunscreen). Gulls flew along the beach, a harbour seal poked its head
out of the water, cormorants skimmed the waves, helicopters buzzed the cliffs, jet-skis passed, naked people walked by, I did a sketch of my
foot and tried to even out my tan lines (though I kept the shorts on). I ended up staying longer than I intended to, and subsequently the whole
evening’s tasks were pushed later, but it was unquestionably worth it. I’m just sad I can’t do it again tomorrow.
10.08.08
Last week, after intending to do so for months, I rode the bike out past the gates, through the golf course, crossed an intersection with a traffic light, and went shopping for fruits and vegetables. I brought my own bags, even the little clear produce ones, and crammed everything including a huge bunch of spinach into my backpack for the return journey.
Yesterday I took the bike to UBC farm where they hold a weekly farmer’s market selling produce grown on site according to organic farming principles. I got there a bit late and they were sold out of a few things, but I did pick up a beautiful bunch of radishes. (See photos below.)
Behold; I be greener than thou.
Of course this week I took the car out to three separate locations to accomplish much the same thing, BUT one was combined with a lunch and the other two were in the same place. Small steps, people.
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