To the very talented bellydancer –

I give my heartfelt apologies.

Valentine’s dinner was spent at S & H Kebab House.
Expectations were high, as vague memories of kebabs and yogurt sauce from times long past re-entered our brains.
Reservations were … almost needed. We did have one, which enabled us to sit in what I’d refer to as a diner-style table’d room, containing four couples, a tiny baby, and a family of 8, 5 of which were small children.
A live human being played guitar to accompany his turkish lyrics. A tad loud, but he sounded good all around, singing songs of Istanbul, among others.
Our waiter, Sebastian, was very friendly and attentive, as much as he could be with a full room. He also spoke german so fluently as to enable me to place my order completely in german.
For appetizer we had Cacic, the cold, delicious yogurt sauce, along with soft, hot pita, and then I got a plate of Calamari, selfishly I ashamedly admit, to share with no one, since Christina doesn’t like things that once floated.
Both were delicious. The Calamari was not at all chewy, and its sauce was great.
For our entree’s, Christina got an order of Köfte Kebab, and I had a Döner Kebab.  Instead of in a half-loaf of bread, it was served over rice and salad. My first bite was a chili pepper, which was spicy. My second bite was accidental, and contained three grains of rice, and my entire dollop of freshly-added hot sauce. I wasn’t paying attention.
Out fades the guitar and singing. IN COMES A CYMBAL FROM HELL! BUT FROM ABOVE! IT’S A CD!
Out comes the Bellydancer, finger-cymbals a-crashing.
I’ve never seen the true appeal of bellydancing. I remember getting embarrassed and awkward if ever I saw bellydancing on television or in a movie.
This occasion was no different – I turned beet red.
Bellydancing is strange. Scantily-clad (if elegant!) females gyrating their hips rhythmically to music belongs somewhere dedicated, a belly-dancing venue, or show, for instance.
If I had been there TO SEE belly-dancing, smoking perhaps peach flavoured shisha out of a hookah, it’d have been different. Instead, I was there to have a romantic dinner with my wife, trying to ignore the crashing cymbals by my ear without seeming rude. It didn’t help that every time I did look “over” and our eyes met (another awkward thing, what AM I supposed to look at? The sparkling red bra? The exposed midriff? The slit in her dress?) she stopped dancing for everyone else, smiled, kept her gaze, and danced for ME.  I can say this comfortably, as she did the same thing to my wife.
Nothing to interrupt a professional at work and rip us out of the experience like a 3 year old falling headfirst off a chair onto the ground.
The nameless bellydancer (no intro, or for that matter, outro) ran over to comfort it until the parents got there.
Her placement was awkward. In order to watch her perform, everyone had to turn their heads 90 degrees, while the food gets cold.
I would have much prefered a Mariachi performance in the corner.
I didn’t witness it, but apparently she made a hasty exit after pretty much falling flat with the audience. I’ll maintain that a restaurant shouldn’t surprise you with semi-interactive performances.
I’ll dwell on the experience no longer.
The food was fantastic, my only gripe was the atmosphere that was far from relaxing. Oh, my chair was too low by about 2 inches.
The place IS byob, and we took advantage of that.
We’ll definitely return, but probably for lunch instead.
Food: 5/5 It was delicious and the portions were ample.
Atmosphere 2/5 (it has potential, and I have to come back for lunch)
Value: 4/5 More reasonably priced than the new German restaurant on South.
Staff: 5/5 Very pleasant, and genuinely interested in how we were doing.
I apologize that there are no pictures on this entry.
Paul

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Hot Sauce in the houce!

Yes, that was a portmanteau.

Today, on a whim, which hit me quite frequently, it occurred to me that I’d never before created hot sauce.

A quick Google search later, I found a delicious reading recipe, hurried to the grocery store, and purchased around $34 worth of goods.

Mango, Habañeros, Garlic, Onion, Pineapple, Honey, Chile, Vinegar

So fresh and so clean.

First, the recipe called for preparing the Habañero peppers, and I obliged. Didn’t touch anything other than my hands – I was good.

A couple of pointers here: I chose the most difficult recipe regarding fruit. Mango?

Never before seen one whole, let alone touched one, let alone attempt to dissect this slippery, seriously-shelled fruit. Google to the rescue, a couple quick tic-tac-toe slices later, four mangoes found a new home in my giant pot.

Then, the pineapple. xkcd.com had it exactly right. Pineapple is kinda tasty, but is a real pain in the ass to dissect. This hurdle took about 6 minutes to overcome.

I didn’t actually use all five heads of garlic – I have jar’d, minced garlic, and used that by the spoonful. Saved me a bunch of time.

Looooooong story short, everything ended up in the pot, thusly.

Everything cut up and ready to rock.

Everything ready to rock.

Oh, my mistake? Wanting a reminder as to what exactly Pineapple tastes like. The habanero oils said hi to my mouth for about 20 minutes. Was alright though. Kept me alert.

The Zoomy, on the other hand, wasn’t very helpful. In fact, he was mostly a distraction. A distraction in a paper bag.

A cat in a bag.

Paper bags are his favourite forts.

Establishing shot of the Zoomy.

I think he would have taken apart my ankles first.

I brought the mixture to a boil for a bit, and then pureéd it twice. I bet the professionals have sieves, as the hot sauce ended up being a bit like a slushy.

I canned two batches successfully – would have been more cans, but I forgot to purchase more Mason Jars.

The color is just about what it should be, given that most of its color comes from Pineapple and Mango.

In conclusion, it was a great experiment. I’m sure I lack a bit of patience, and perhaps the proper tools, such as glass-EVERYTHING (non-reactive, whatever that means). Next time, I believe I’ll wear some latex gloves, as I did manage to develop some first-degree habanero burns, which made my thumb and middle fingers heat-sensitive.

I didn't think it'd be this yellow.

After processing.

On the bright side, up until JUST now, I hadn’t touched my eyes. I am very happy to truthfully report that only minor irritation is commencing.

I’ll have to do this again sometime. The real test will be tomorrow, as I’ll be presenting this at work to colleagues, and post-work to friends.

~Paul

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On Shaving.

Tools of Destruction.It appears that I’ve lost my touch.

There are approximately 12 cuts on my neck, one on my chin, and one other near my mouth.

NO idea why that’s becoming a trend, apparently. I’m not very pleased.

Practice makes… better?

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Celebrity crush:

Ingrid Bergman Grinning

:D

How can you NOT!

~Paul

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Plasmids – Yes please.

I remember four things that hit me hard playing the demo to the first Bioshock.

1) The flaming water’s surface looked AMAZING.
2) The shriek of the “Is it someone new…?” plasmid junkie.
3) The first plasmid injection.
4) The concept of “They will spawn until the cows come home unless you cross an invisible line, now stop counting your dwindling ammo, and get out of the closed toiled stall, you effing coward.”
Earlier today I thought of the fact that Bioshock 2 will be released soon.
With that, I started thinking of my previously barren quest to obtain one of those sweet retro-futuristic, Art Deco, Plasmid Posters.
With little figurines adorning desks and monitors, why has it not dawned on team Bioshock to sell their in-game posters in real-life stores?
I, for one, would purchase three.
Bioshock takes place in an Ayn Rand influenced universe.
I’m not an Ayn Rand fanatic. I liked the book “Anthem” but was appalled that it was over by page 100. Speaking of which, my copy’s for sale for like… $1 plus s&h. Yes, I’m serious.
I gave “Atlas Shrugged” an honest effort, until I learned it was about managing trains. Fountainhead is a stupid title, so no.
Yes, I’m that guy.
With my agnostic / objectivist mindset, I should be absorbing Ayn Rand’s writings, but I don’t.  She’s very dry to read, and seems to speak from a throne.
I don’t know too much about Bioshock 2. I prefer to be pleasantly surprised. Apparently, there’ll be a multiplayer mode.
Other things will be negligible. Better graphics are to be expected, and I hope the atmosphere of the original is recreated.  I would, however, like to see a more “open” tunnel system – less on rails, if you catch my drift.
Oh, and Left 4 Dead 2 can go die in a fire.

~!=1N

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