My blogging efforts were thwarted yesterday by a failed laptop power source. For some reason, every power cord I've had for this laptop ends up fraying over time, until little wires are poking out, threatening to shock me. Rick wrapped my latest frayed cord in electrical tape, which at least prevented an inadvertent shock... but it did not prevent the power source from ultimately failing, prompting my laptop to yell at me about not having the right cord. (I HAD the right cord -- it just looked like invisible mice had been gnawing on it. And apparently once your power cord reaches the "gnawed by invisible mice" stage, it no longer works...) Fortunately, Rick has random power cords lying all over the place, and he managed to find a suitable temporary replacement. But hopefully I can order a new power source for this computer (and try to keep it away from the invisible mice...).
Anyway... not that I'm trying to turn this into a food blog, but I think I'll talk about food again. (Sure, why not? Invisible mice eat power cords... some people eat cat brains... I eat other stuff... :)) So we met Faisal for dinner Saturday night at a Japanese place near his building... Faisal and I thought it was really good. (Rick, on the other hand... well... let's just say we must never again speak of Rick and the Japanese restaurant...) It was one of those places that makes the assumption that its diners are comfortable using chopsticks -- personally, I love such an assumption. But again, let's not talk about Rick... (He is SO gonna get mad at me for this post... :)) I was trying to remember when I first learned how to use chopsticks... I think it may have been at Omei's, which was the BEST Chinese restaurant in New Jersey when I was a teenager. (Granted, I didn't try ALL the Chinese restaurants in New Jersey... but of the ones I did try, Omei's was far superior...) I used to love their stir-fried chicken with mushrooms, and I would use their pre-packaged, disposable wooden chopsticks just for the fun of it. (Wooden chopsticks always worry me slightly -- I wonder how many people get tongue splinters??)
And yesterday, since we weren't finished with our culinary tour of the world, Rick and I ate lunch at Reza's, which is right down the block from us. It's a Middle Eastern/Persian/Mediterranean place, and when we sat down, I was encouraged by the fact that there were so many Middle Eastern/Persian/Mediterranean people eating there. Although I'll admit this was an assumption based on appearances and an observation of languages other than English -- I know I should never assume... :) (It was kind of like the time we went to a little Italian place on Grand, and it was full of Italian people speaking Italian... I figure if the ITALIAN people are eating at the Italian restaurant, it must be good, right??)
However, unlike Indian food (which is like awesomeness on a plate), I've decided that Persian food is just so-so... It's not BAD, it's just not... awesomeness on a plate. There's not enough spice... and occasionally there are some strange flavor combinations. But I did pretty much eat my weight in falafel... (Which, in retrospect, may not have been the best idea. I wasn't hungry AT ALL for the rest of the day. Apparently it takes falafel about 24 hours to completely digest...) I do always enjoy trying new foods (as long as there's no cat brain on my plate, of course), even if it ends up not being a favorite...
At the Japanese place the other night (where I, Fish-Hater, avoided sushi like the plague), Rick wondered why I, as a descendent of a "name-that-ends-in-strom" from Sweden, did not inherit Scandinavian taste buds. In fact, I find most Scandinavian food rather unappetizing. It's not just the copious amounts of fish -- it's the strange, random side dishes that go along with entrees. Piles of onions and capers and pickles and weird herbs... what the heck goes on in Swedish kitchens??? And then there's this:
But I suppose I shouldn't be so hard on Sweden -- after all, in some roundabout way, I appeared on this planet thanks in part to the existence of Sweden. But I didn't inherit Swedish taste buds... and I certainly didn't inherit tall, blond, Swedish bikini model genes, either (okay, now I'm mad at Sweden again... :)). Maybe you have to eat a lot of fish to be a tall blond bikini model???
And, because I haven't quite gone around the entire world in this post, we bought some Costa Rican coffee on our way back from lunch. There. I think that pretty much covers everything. :)