Man in the kitchen

It's not too often I've been in the kitchen in recent years other than to wash dishes or mindlessly consume from the fridge. This afternoon, with a little time on my hands and some pre-purchased goods from Trader Joe's, I decided to make an old favorite. Chocolate-covered peanuts. Essentially the same as taking a handful of peanuts and chocolate chips and throwing them into your mouth, but not really. They're a bit more fancy in the form of chocolate peanut clusters. Simple dessert to bring to a potluck or a yummy snack to keep in the fridge and pretend that the goodness in the peanuts is offsetting the empty calories in the chocolate.

First, go to Trader Joe's or your local grocery store. Buy a 16 oz package of roasted and salted peanuts and a 12 oz package of semi-sweet chocolate chips. This is what you'll be mixing and later consuming. I've tasted other chocolate chips and I've yet to find a comparable brand. Buy at your own risk. Don't buy peanuts in the shell unless you really like shelling peanuts and you like the peanut skin as additional roughage.

All the goods you need. 

Set up a double broiler or make your own. I don't even know what a double boiler is. Put a bit of water in a pot, perhaps an inch or two and turn on the heat. Boil that shit. Put a frying pan on top of the pot and make sure the pan is bigger than the pot. If you just asked yourself Why? you probably shouldn't be in the kitchen. You're essentially heating up the pan to melt the chocolate chips without burning them. Throw in the bag of chips and mix 'em up with a metal or wooden spoon. Don't melt plastic shit with your chocolate! You might want to reduce the heat and release some steam from time to time.

The make-shift double boiler.

Chips beginning to lose form.

Almost one.

Once melted, it's time to add the peanuts. Add the peanuts bit by bit. Not peanut by peanut. Unless you really enjoy the process. Try half the bag, mix it up, add the next 1/4, mix and then the remainder. Mix it all up til all the peanuts are covered in chocolate, the scent wafting up into your nostrils without sampling the goods  before you're finished - you'll burn your mouth!

All melted and waiting for peanuts.

All mixed up!

Meanwhile, take out some trays and line them with wax or parchment paper. Actually, set this up beforehand. At this point, the heat should be set to low just to keep the chocolate from setting prematurely. Take a small metal spoon and drop/drizzle spoonfuls of the mix onto the wax paper. It's up to you how big you want your clusters. Once you've finished drizzling the deliciousness onto the trays, find a space in the fridge and give them an hour or three to set. I prefer my chocolate to melt in my mouth, not on my hands.

Lined tray waiting for its purpose in life.

Make as big as you like.

Put in the fridge and give time to set.

Now you get to clean up. Spoon the remaining melted chocolate from the pan and insert into your mouth. Don't count calories, it's definitely not worth it. If you've spilled a little chocolate whilst transferring from the pan to the tray, don't worry, it's still edible. Eat and enjoy, wash those fucking dishes as soon as possible and do something to take your mind off the fridge. Eat whatever meal comes next to get some quality calories down your throat and fill your belly and then open the fridge and indulge. You're welcome.

These won't last long.

Zoom in to drool. 

Living the easy life

Ok, this is getting ridiculous. What day is it? Wednesday, July 18. I think I stopped work about this time last November. Last November! Eight months traveling, eating, sleeping, thinking, playing, enjoying, drinking, depressing, walking, talking, living, loving, hating and reuniting. The "fun" times are nearing their end as they always do and I am ready to immerse myself into conventional Western society. Find a job, find a wife, rear some kids, grow old and live happily ever after.

Life in the West ain't so bad really. It's just not so wild anymore. Sitting here with a bowl of pecan praline granola topped with fresh strawberries and organic dried cranberries, soaked in almond milk, occasionally aided down the hatch with slurps of now cool but still robust coffee. You don't get this in SE Asia. Staring at my new MacBook Pro, I feel like I've just undergone Lasik again. I don't even have the new retina display, but this is such a significant upgrade over my old netbook that it seems like I do. Once you go Mac you never go back. Or so it would seem.

They don't have $2 haircuts in the West, which is a shame, but fortunately there are do-it-yourself options. I just did it this morning and although the clean up is a bit tedious and I'll never look as slick without a proper barber, this option does the trick for now. The one thing the West does have going for it is the peace and quiet. Holy shit, I can't remember the last time I've had such quiet nights. Doesn't mean my mind isn't making noise, but at least I can't blame the guy on the motorbike in the alley and wish him dead for contributing to my perpetual sleeplessness.

Not that I really wish anybody dead. Just throw a mental stick through their spokes and send them flying over the handlebars headlong into a cement wall. That'll teach 'em for unnecessarily using the horn. The problem is this kind of education would be a very slow process. You'd have to break nearly everyone's neck and probably twice before they got it. As a Westerner you just have to accept the noise, grin and bear it as they say, otherwise you'll just go mental. And once you go mental, you need to find some peace and sanity before you can go back into the fray.

I do miss the heat of southeast Asia. Naturally I think I have semi-acclimitized and California summers don't feel as hot as they used to. Of course, I have been mostly in San Francisco, but that's a different story. As Mark Twain said, the coldest winter I ever spent was a summer in San Francisco. Really? Regardless, it is cold most of the time in the summer here. However, even outside of the Bay Area where I have been warned it's too hot to be outside, I have found it to be quite to my liking. Ahhh, warms up my bones. Always prefer to be too hot rather than too cold. To sweat on top of the sheets rather than shiver under them.

I played golf last week with my Dad and one of his friends. I lost as per usual, but it's getting pathetic. My Dad is 70 and playing worse every day (according to him) and his friend is 83. To give myself some credit, I don't play very often, but I should be carding a better score. It appears it is time to hang up the clubs, but I'll keep whacking balls as long as my company is accepted out on the links and as long as my clubs don't end up bent around my knee.  It's been a long time since I've done that, not taking myself too seriously out there these days. It's more fun to try and hit a few good shots and end up with a few pars, perhaps a birdie and as few quadruple bogies as possible.

Well, it's time to check Facebook to see if I have any new likes or other notifications. Time to think about what to eat for lunch even though I just had breakfast. What music to listen to. To think about what exercise I should engage in today, but actually not partake in it at all. It's the thought that counts after all. To shave those unruly chest hairs and pluck those pesky mole hairs. Too much time on my hands, yes that's for sure. But the clock is ticking and it won't always be so. Living the easy life the only way I know how, enjoying it while it lasts, but glad it's not forever.

A month in America

I can't believe I've been back for a month. Almost. My recent travels seem like a blur. A month ago I was exiting customs at the San Francisco International Airport and stepped out to see unfamiliar faces. My plane arrived an hour early. I forgot to resend my itinerary and confirm who would meet me at the airport, but I hoped for the best. Shortly thereafter, I looked up and found my Dad wandering into the arrivals hall unaware that I was already there. Almost like I had never even gone anywhere. Almost.

And here I sit at Royal Ground Coffee at 17th and Geary in the Richmond District, reliving old memories. Not really, I have a bad memory. At least the weather is nice. It's like October has come early. A sunny day in San Francisco during the summer? What!? It's true, there is no fog to be seen anywhere, not yet anyway. It will be cold later to be sure, just like last night, walking home from the bar, slightly shivering and having to pee, making it that much worse.

Back in America and I am craving a donut. A chocolate old-fashioned, please. How much more American can you get? I need to have one every couple of years. And tonight, going to a baseball game and watch some pre-fourth of July fireworks. Now that's American. I'll skip the hot dog, substitute a burrito and eat a bag of peanuts. Sit in the bleachers, root for the home team and hope nobody pukes on my back. That happened to my Mom many years ago. Good memories!

It is so quiet here in America. No honking. In Truckee, I couldn't hear anything at night. The house is so well-insulated and away from anybody else it's hard not to get a good night's sleep. Unless I drink a beer and then my sleep is interrupted. In Montana, all I could hear was the train and my heart beating. Weird. And in San Francisco, the occasional bus or one of my nephews whispering to see if I'm still asleep. I am, I feign, in the hope of just one more hour of relative silence.

We wrestle. WWF style. Well, not really, but almost. Cheating is guaranteed, but I guess we never really set the rules. My nephews pull my hair, poke my butt, gouge my eyes, tweak my ears, kick my crotch, scratch my face, pick my nose, yank my clothes and wipe their dirty hands over my lips as they try to grab anywhere they can. It's only fair I suppose considering my size advantage. I try to set some rules in the process, body slam them, pull their baby toe, tickle them and avoid kicks to the face and groin as much as possible.

It's good to be back. My visit was definitely overdue. But I feel strange. Awkward in America. I feel like I don't belong here anymore. And I realize as I did long ago, I don't have to do this. I don't want to do it. I know it doesn't have to be this hard. This feels hard. And unnecessary. And if I did it, I'd feel trapped and want to escape. So, I'm not going to do it, whatever that is exactly and just keep on keeping on. I'm living, maybe not the way I'm supposed to or the way people want me to, but it works for me. I'm grateful for what I have and where I am now, but I don't want this forever. Just saying.