Sunday, April 29, 2007

dinner last night





you know you're jealous!

Saturday, April 28, 2007

The Adventures of BoBo and BooBoo

The wheels of the jet touched down onto the tarmac as I peered out the window. It was a beautifully sunny, 70 degree morning, the kind of Spring day you dream of in the dead of Winter. The first leg of a very long journey from Pittsburgh, PA to Homer, Alaska was complete but the adventure was just beginning.

My thoughts quickly turned to Scott and the drop off. I would call him upon landing at Chicago's Midway Airport on my way to an ill planned connection at O'Hare airport (the complete opposite side of the city). He would meet me curbside at arrivals to deliver "the item".

"Hello."
"Hi, Scott?"
"Yes, I'm in the parking lot down the street."
"See you in 10 minutes..."

I quickly grabbed my luggage and fumbled my way to the curb. His silver Jetta appeared from around the corner and came to a stop in front of me. We exchanged pleasantries and he motioned to the front passenger seat. That's when I saw it...BoBo. A small, beige, plastic pet carrier held the precious cargo; the sweetest little fox-like face set with eyes that could melt a Marine gave way to a mass of fine puppy hair easily three inches deep. This 8 week old Pomeranian was my new travel companion. As the Traffic Management Authority harassed us for loitering too long we thanked each other and just like that, BoBo and I were on our way.

My mother soon picked us up and we made our way to O'Hare airport. BoBo pressed his tiny black nose against his carrier and wondered at the new world around him, his amazement no doubt fueled by his fear of new sights, sounds, smells. After a short but spirited run at a rest stop (our last potty break for what we thought would only be 5 hours) we arrived at O'Hare.

BoBo's ticket came to $80 which I was gracious enough to loan him. This leg would bring us from Chicago to Phoenix with enough time to run to the dog park in Phoenix before our flight to Anchorage. It was soon time to board. We took our seats (mine a window, his tucked safely under the seat in front of me) as BoBo seemed to drift toward sleep. I prayed he might stay in hibernation for the duration of the flight, long enough to be able to wake him and wear him out at the dog park at the next airport. The main concern was takeoff, an event sometimes uneasy for even a seasoned traveler. Some earlier crying seemed to foreshadow a potential problem, but as the wheels lifted off the ground the gentle turbulence slowly rocked the little one to sleep. My fears were temporarily assuaged.

Three and a half hours later we pulled into Phoenix with only one hour until the next flight, just enough time for a potty/food/water break for the both of us. I accosted the first airline employee I encountered after walking off the jet bridge. Research the day before indicated two dog parks at this airport. Now where were they?

"Excuse me do you know where the dog park is?"
"The dog park? Hmmm..."
"Is it pretty close?"
"Oh the dog park...it's actually outside of the terminal."
"Outside of the terminal?!!! You mean I'd have to come back through security?"
"Yes. Pretty inconvenient, huh?"
"Yes...yes it is. Thanks."

Defeated I looked for other options. Could I go into the single handicapped restroom and lay out a piddle pad? Could I fit the pad in his carrier? Needless to say the poor creature needed some food and water. I slide them in slowly as his pointy snout eagerly pushed through, his itty-bitty, needle teeth testing my skin.

"Don't worry little guy...we only have 6 more hours in the air," I said, as much to assure myself as to assure him. Ugh!

This may be a good time to point out that if you ever want to receive attention in an airport from both women and the elderly alike carry a puppy. Just know that while everyone "wants one" and thinks it's "so cute", inevitably none of these people want the responsibility that comes with your charge.

Before we knew it we were seated and ready for our last flight of the day when all of a sudden the noise began. Every bit of the guinea pig grunt, squeaky wheel, crying baby mix made me cringe as my worst fear came true. I was now "that guy". The flight attendant's preemptive scolding about opening the cage to pet him prevented me from helping the little pup. I slumped in my chair as people around me tried to determine the cause of the siren like wails.

"Yes," I nodded, "it's mine...a Pomeranian puppy...his name is BoBo...yes..that's right...I said BoBo."

The plane took off and, luckily, my little friend once again fell fast asleep. I soon followed, dreaming of the end of this mighty endeavor.

Seemingly at once the plane landed, I awoke and BoBo resumed his whining. After giving myself a pat on the back for a job well done (so far) I gathered my belongings and exited the aircraft. My father greeted us, grinning at the sight of his only son and the new puppy...safe, albeit both of us a little drowsy.

This would truly be the final portion of the trip; a four hour drive from Anchorage down the Kenai Peninsula to Homer. A short stop for gas yielded good results for both water and potty training, BoBo happy to finally run free. With the exception of some precipitation at the mountain pass everything was going smoothly until, with only 20 miles left to Homer, I felt a warm sensation spread across my lap. Apparently the puppy hit the limit of his bladder releasing its full contents onto my jeans. As the sudden shock subsided my father and I soon spiraled into tears of laughter. There was no point in stopping to change now...after all we were only 15 minutes away. After a short pause to shove a wad of McDonald's napkins from the glove compartment between myself and the car seat we pushed on. The Homer spit soon came into sight and not long after we pulled into the driveway. Soaked with urine and physically exhausted we brought BoBo into his new home. Soon everyone was awake with the excitement of the new arrival.



After a trip spanning 24 hours, three planes, three cars, one pair of damp jeans, and over 5,000 miles we finally arrived. As the first rays of morning sunshine began to dance over the snowy mountain peaks, I sat, content, basking in the ecstatic glow of a family in the first few minutes with its new puppy.

Thursday, April 19, 2007

quick update

As many of you know I am now traveling the country on a great adventure first to Pittsburgh, where I am currently, and then back through Chicago and then Phoenix on my way to Anchorage where my father will pick me up for the 3 hour drive back to Homer. So far I've eaten an amazing crepe, an interesting "Hot Veg" and a syrupy sweet margarita. In other breaking news I will now be transporting a 2lb. Pomeranian puppy named BoBo from Chicago's Midway airport to Homer, Alaska. Stay tuned for the latest!!! Miss you all

Tuesday, April 10, 2007

if you have a spare hour

check out this show I listened to on my drive home from the suburbs (two hours!!!) on NPR.

interesting topics include extreme eating, a story of chocolate that may make you appreciate those Hershey kisses a bit more and evidence that actually taking time to enjoy a meal helps the consumer take in more of the nutrients...think of that next time you wolf down a Big Mac or even your Subway sandwich.

Monday, April 9, 2007

why I'm a little upset with Ben Stein...

As many of you know I will soon be taking my place at a new and exciting point along the chain of food. After waiting tables, working in a country club kitchen and mongering cheese I am going to Alaska for a bit of adventure as a hunter/gatherer of seafood. Commercially I will be catching halibut with my dad but he is also running halibut and salmon charters. Or so we thought...

The North Pacific Fishery Management Council recently approved a moratorium on issuing halibut fishing charter permits. Luckily this won't likely go into effect until 2009. Now I've been fishing for halibut in Alaska for many years and it certainly isn't like it use to be. When my family first started visiting, the fishing was fast and furious. As soon as you dropped your hook down you had another 40-50 pounder nibbling in the icy depths below. Last Summer we often waited all day long to catch our limit for the day, mostly 20-30 pounds each. Whether this is a function of overfishing or simply bad luck one might never know.

Ultimately the charter business must have a much smaller effect on the finite number of halibut in the ocean than the commercial business does. Large commercial boats pick up not only vast quantities of halibut but also the largest ones...that is to say the large, egg bearing females who are responsible for replenishing the supply. In addition they pull up all sorts of
other sea life inadvertantly.

enter Ben Stein...

Some of you may have seen the recent advertisements with the former White House speech writer hawking wild Alaskan seafood. The Alaska Seafood Marketing Institute chose him to, "
deliver its sustainable message and promote the benefits of wild Alaska seafood." "Grab a fork, there's a lot more out there," he tells the viewer.

So apparently there is a whole lot of seafood in Alaska but not enough to allow all of the guides to run charters. Despite their relatively small take, they are penalized while the commercial fisherman are allowed to continue to reap the benefits of the sea. Not only that but the moratorium would most effect guides who ran less than 15 trips the previous year...so basically it is being made more difficult for the people taking the smallest amount of fish from the ocean to do so. The sport fisherman can take two halibut a day...some commercial operations take almost 200.

The public is given the impression that there is a seemingly endless supply of Alaskan fish while others are telling the fisherman that there simply isn't enough to go around. Very discouraging for a man trying to build a business and make a living in the great north.

Friday, April 6, 2007

160 Blue

A few friends and I recently had a great experience here. You walk in and the space oozes hip, sophisticated elegance. Clean comfortable lines and warm, dark woods along with other natural materials create an atmosphere,together with the lighting, that is rather enticing. We arrived slightly early for our 8:00 reservation and were quickly sat by the welcoming hostess. The purpose of our visit was the Monday Night Flights series; one winery (Babcock), six wines, each paired with a small dish.

We had a ball!

The pours were more than generous (nearly full glasses!) and the bites were quite good ranging from a Nancy's Camembert sandwich paired with a Pinot Grigio, to a Cabernet paired with Skirt Steak with figs. Other highlights included rabbit gnocchi, oxtail with red cabbage and dried cherry and Tasmanian sea trout tartare. The woman running the "seminar" made it all very comfortable and inviting, taking on all questions from a group with very different levels of wine experience from beginner to pro.

The cheese menu turned out to be rather dissapointing with relatively few options and the "composed" cheese ended up being little more than a hunk of fourme d'ambert with some almonds, figs and greens around it.

All in all we had a great time and I hope to soon return for a meal. If you can though I would highly suggest Monday Night Flights...just make sure you call a cab.

chowhound

I was recently venturing around Chowhound.com, one of my favorite "foodie" discussion boards, when I came upon a short blurb about a lobster BLT that sounded curiously like one I had in New York. Come to find out it is a post referencing my write up of my incredible gastronomic tour of NYC!!!

In other news this should be required reading for all human beings in order to create proper customers...this guy really hits it on the head I think.

Sunday, April 1, 2007

Gordon Ramsay


There is a great article in The New Yorker about the opening of his New York restaurant. It is a bit long but well worth the read.