For those who understand, this title needs no explanation. For those who are unfamiliar, I encourage you to visit New Orleans and do the "slow boogie roll." "Hey Pocky Way" is a song so entwined with New Orleans music, its like the Shrimp Po-Boy of songs. It would be nearly impossible to spend any amount of time in NOLA without hearing this song at some point during your visit or stay in the crescent city. Having just spent a fabulous weekend in New Orleans, watching the original Meters play this infamous song, rekindles the spirit of the experience.
The Meters are one of the most influential funk bands in America. I had the splendid opportunity to witness yet another reunion, this time at the Voodoo Music Festival, held at City Park in New Orleans. I could not believe the utter magic of this occasion, mainly since only a few hundred lucky folks were there to witness and experience the performance. The legends on stage reminded us all of why they are indeed the "uptown rulers" who changed New Orleans music forever. "Cissy Strut" will likely be the song that carries on the legacy of New Orleans funk until the end of time.
So, here I sit, inside the Miami airport, deep inside the throngs of a long layover. I have been here since 8am this morning, it is now 6:25pm, and I will be boarding a flight to Barcelona in just a little over an hour. My day has been spent inside this transportation warehouse. I would not recommend this long of a layover, particularly after staying up all night (after all, it was Halloween in NOLA last night) and trying to sleep on the airport floor. Its a interesting predicament I have chosen, and in this moment I am content with my decision to enjoy the Halloween festivities of the previous night (more on that later). For now, this airport seems to suck up my money like a change machine at a car wash when the vehicle is dirty both inside and out. Everything is expensive in this airport and nothing is really that good. At least I've had the internet at my fingertips to give me access to information, as well as deliver these wonderful stories to my blog.
I am thrilled to be sitting here anticipating a flight to Barcelona, although the excitement has subsided somewhat. I'm in the middle of a journey where I am visiting some of my favorite places, mainly New Orleans, Barcelona, Paris, and parts of Montana and Colorado. There are deep connections my spirit holds with these hallowed grounds I like to frequent. Something calls me to these places, and something makes me feel so at home when I am able to spend time in these places. What I find most fascinating is how easily things seem to fall into place in these various places. Trust is essential to molding into each moment with relative ease, allowing the travels to unfold naturally and spontaneously. Having bearings also helps aid this cause of letting go, for it is easy to roam when one has an idea of where they are, more or less.
At any rate I just spent four days in New Orleans, a place I still call home. I got the chance to experience a John Friend Anusara yoga workshop on Oct 29th and 30th, honoring the end of the year cycle and the beginning of a new year. To put this experience into words is both difficult and daunting. I will attempt to share some of it with you. My yoga practice began in Louisiana, as did my desire to lean towards a more spiritual path of understanding my being. To be able to return to a place where my journey began, time and time again, has allowed me to measure my progress and review my efforts over time. This measurement has no judgement, no motives, no plans. It is remarkable to reflect on what has been attempted as well as achieved. And to culminate the moments to a pinnacle experience with John Friend had my inner being blown wide open with love and devotion. I drank from the cup of shakti that filled the air with incredible nourishment. My body and spirit opened to forces and currents that flow through me with steady grace. All from aligning to an ancient practice of yoga, and a systematic process of recognizing how our attitude, our thoughts, and our minds shape not only who we are, but who we think we are and what we think we can or can not do. Possibility is paramount on this road of self discovery.
I'm not sure if I eluded much of what I experienced in the previous paragraph, so let me just say there was a significant paradigm shift within my core. Before New Orleans was a few days in Boulder, Colorado, where I was able to practice with Jeanie Manchester, one of my favorite teachers of Anusara yoga. I was also fortunate enough to practice meditation with her, and I was surprised to hear she too had received an initiation with Paul Muller-Ortega earlier in the year. I feel so very blessed to be able to experience the wonders of life with such incredible teachers, as well as share my own experience with so many beautiful people I cross paths with on my travels throughout the U.S. and abroad.
Since this blog is primarily intended for cooking, running, yoga, and whatever else I like to throw in the mix, I'll try and stay on subject. Prior to heading out into the streets of Frenchmen and the Quarter to view the crazy Halloween costumes, I enjoyed a delightful day of eating in NOLA. Lunch at Charlie's Seafoods in Harahan with Frank and Marna Brigtsen (soft shell crabs, gumbo, potato salad, and cole slaw, yum!), now my favorite lunch spot in the Greater New Orleans area. This was followed by a lazy afternoon and a delightful evening at Susan Spicer's new Restaurant called Mondo. We had chicken liver pate, beef tartare, braised rabbit, smoked chicken, and artichoke/oyster gratin, just to name a few. A great dining experience in the company of good friends. Food was outstanding, service was okay, and the value for price paid was very good. We left feeling charmed and fulfilled for the festive evening.
It was 4am when I hopped into a cab and headed back to where I was staying, in order to change out of my Halloween costume and head to the airport. Pretty smooth transition all in all, although I was definitely one of only a few who decided to stay up all night and hop on an early morning flight. Its getting easier over the years, to just be comfortable in who I am and the decisions I make, no matter what state of mind or situation I find myself in. There is a certain steadiness with me lately, largely in thanks to the yoga practice, as well as, how I choose to spend my time now.
Fly fishing for several weeks on Montana's prized blue ribbon trout streams helps to keep that steadiness intact, especially when frolicking in the majestic mountains and chasing the wily trout. Beauty and love can be admired, yet not gripped or possessed. Surely this is the practice of fly fishing, of catching love and letting it go, admiring beauty and honoring the moment. Sometimes beauty presents itself in the most unlikely circumstances, such as it is with catching fish. I learn more about life from fly fishing than I'd ever dream I would. It is part of what keeps me coming back to the river, wading a stick, hoping the rod will bend.
I am back in the groove of running again, here and there, loving the freedom the feet on pavement provides. Before departing from Whitefish for this recent adventure, I completed a two and a half mile run in the grand spectrum of brilliant fall colors along the lake I live above. I can still taste the air and smell the freshness of that day, the feeling of the cool breeze, the sparkle of the golden sun, all permeate my being and filling my face with a smile. I did not bring my running shoes with me to Europe, but I did bring my dancing shoes- so that will have to suffice for now.
I'm about out of time with this post, and there is more to tell, so I will cut this post a little shorter than desired. This weekend reminded me how much I love all of you in my life. How blessed I am to share this adventure with you. How amazed at the experiences I get to immerse in year after year. How absolutely perfect things can be, as they are, as they will be. I draw my hands together in front of my heart, and bow to all of you, all of the experiences, all of the love. Thank you for being in my life and being a part of my journey.
Tuesday, November 1, 2011
Saturday, September 17, 2011
The Challenge of being me
Fitting title, no? The applicable nature of this phrase likely extends to all of us, as individuals, with each of our lives. It can be used as a statement, a question, or a credence. The results are not quite in on how this title applies to me, although certainly it has been in my thoughts lately. With all of the unique things I have been able to experience recently, I find the phrase very fascinating. The wonderful part about this phrase is that each one of us gets to control how we choose to be. Life can be challenging, this much we all know, yet it is meant to be enjoyed. Hence this blog, and hence the next phrase which aptly describes this post- the energy of being me.
The energy of me is like a rainbow seen through a series of mirrors, a spectrum of colorful rays, visible from the glowing beams of sunshine and with the contrast of rain, viewed through a kaleidoscope. In a way, it is similar to how we view all that we perceive, since our eyes actually project a mirror image to our brain which then decodes the vision and understands the sight witnessed. Refraction is a wonderful tool, as is reflection, and without either energy is not present, nor are there any challenges. Remember your mind can do all kinds of things, so feel free to employ it to create the energy you desire or seek. For we are all sculptors when it comes to thoughts.
Tonight was an interesting night, to say the least. It is extremely rare when I get burned in the eye while cooking; however, it does happen from time to time. Usual suspects of such a unpleasant sensation are Quail, Sweetbreads, and Peas. You could imagine my surprise when I was pan searing a Kobe Skirt Steak and it popped, hot oil squirts into my eye, causing me to cringe with uncomfortable pain. There is little one can do in this situation. It burns for a few minutes and then usually goes away fairly quickly. The eye is probably the moistest part of the body, at least that is exposed, so the amount of liquid tends to cool, flush, and protect the eye. Needless to say, hot oil in ones eye is about the least desirable feeling. Its all part of being me, I suppose.
Speaking of Restaurant land, we had a vegan wine dinner the other night. It was a well planned menu, full of ingredients from Terrapin Farms, with lots of lovely people in attendance. There were a few folks from the Sunday yoga class in Polson, first time they had been able to dine at the Restaurant. I gave my Sous Chef the night off, in part because of my busy schedule of traveling and being out of town (more on that later). Five courses of food and an optional wine pairing, with the start time slated for 6:30pm. Generally with all of the wine dinners we do, we usually get started just before 7pm, since it takes a few minutes to get everyone situated and make last minute adjustments. Here is the menu:
*Artichokes, Cherry Tomatoes, Swiss Chard, Orange Tomato Confit, Toasted Garlic
*Baby Beets, Baby Carrots, Baby Lettuces, Sweet Onions, Raspberry-Sorrel Vinaigrette
*Yukon Gold Potatoes, Summer Squash, Kohlrabi, Celery Root, String Beans
*Strawberry & Rhubarb Crisp, Fennel Sorbet
The energy of me is like a rainbow seen through a series of mirrors, a spectrum of colorful rays, visible from the glowing beams of sunshine and with the contrast of rain, viewed through a kaleidoscope. In a way, it is similar to how we view all that we perceive, since our eyes actually project a mirror image to our brain which then decodes the vision and understands the sight witnessed. Refraction is a wonderful tool, as is reflection, and without either energy is not present, nor are there any challenges. Remember your mind can do all kinds of things, so feel free to employ it to create the energy you desire or seek. For we are all sculptors when it comes to thoughts.
Tonight was an interesting night, to say the least. It is extremely rare when I get burned in the eye while cooking; however, it does happen from time to time. Usual suspects of such a unpleasant sensation are Quail, Sweetbreads, and Peas. You could imagine my surprise when I was pan searing a Kobe Skirt Steak and it popped, hot oil squirts into my eye, causing me to cringe with uncomfortable pain. There is little one can do in this situation. It burns for a few minutes and then usually goes away fairly quickly. The eye is probably the moistest part of the body, at least that is exposed, so the amount of liquid tends to cool, flush, and protect the eye. Needless to say, hot oil in ones eye is about the least desirable feeling. Its all part of being me, I suppose.
Speaking of Restaurant land, we had a vegan wine dinner the other night. It was a well planned menu, full of ingredients from Terrapin Farms, with lots of lovely people in attendance. There were a few folks from the Sunday yoga class in Polson, first time they had been able to dine at the Restaurant. I gave my Sous Chef the night off, in part because of my busy schedule of traveling and being out of town (more on that later). Five courses of food and an optional wine pairing, with the start time slated for 6:30pm. Generally with all of the wine dinners we do, we usually get started just before 7pm, since it takes a few minutes to get everyone situated and make last minute adjustments. Here is the menu:
*Fried Green Tomatoes, Sweet Pepper Relish, Cucumbers, Mustard Greens, Arugula, Leeks
*Artichokes, Cherry Tomatoes, Swiss Chard, Orange Tomato Confit, Toasted Garlic
*Baby Beets, Baby Carrots, Baby Lettuces, Sweet Onions, Raspberry-Sorrel Vinaigrette
*Yukon Gold Potatoes, Summer Squash, Kohlrabi, Celery Root, String Beans
*Strawberry & Rhubarb Crisp, Fennel Sorbet
So the dinner starts normally, I went out to introduce the evening and welcome everyone to the special event. We had a full house. It was unbelievable to see the massive turnout for a Vegan wine dinner! Last year, we had six people in attendance. This year, there was something like 45 people. At any rate, the plan was for my line cooks to be breading and frying the green tomatoes. We don't have a deep fryer, so we had to pan fry 135 tomatoes, as we were doing three per plate. Since it was a vegan wine dinner, we were using a tomato based wash to dredge the tomatoes in (in place of an egg wash). In other words, we had to flour each tomato, then dip into tomato wash, finally dredging in breadcrumbs, in that order, to execute each tomato slice. With only six burners in the kitchen, it took a long while for us to complete the task. In fact, when I finished my introduction, the tomatoes were not even halfway complete. I realized this and jumped in and took over the pan frying of the tomatoes. I reckon we were able to work two orders, per skillet, per batch. This meant that we could realistically only accomplish about ten orders, with each cycle. And because each cycle took anywhere from five to ten minutes, the process of frying tomatoes took over 30 minutes to complete. Now, with that said, in the midst of tomato frying drama the damn stove catches on fire. How can a stove catch on fire? Well, allow me to explain: just beneath the burners lies a tray that catches debris, over time this collection tends to build up and needs to be changed fairly often. The tray usually is lined with foil and is changed weekly due to the danger of a fire, particularly once the stove gets super hot. Since we were blasting all burners, deep into fried green tomato land, the heat from the stove was scorching hot.
Lo and behold a fire breaks out, while we are plating the green tomatoes, mind you 45 plates of them in a small kitchen with no Sous Chef on staff, due to the foil lining the tray not being changed.. Normally a heavy dose of baking soda does the trick of putting out the fire, and usually no harm is done. I sent one of my cooks to find baking soda. He could not find it. Fire tends to burn rather quickly, especially when it is a grease fire, and with lots of high heat around, this bad boy was spreading like a blaze in a toilet paper factory. I finally sent my dining room manager to get the baking soda. The major problem with this situation, aside from the fact that we have: a dining room full of people, two stacks of 23 plates laid out across the kitchen trying to plate the first course of a five course dinner, and we are already way behind (it was about 7:40 at this point), is the simple fact of the tray that was on fire was stuck. Normally this tray slides out with ease but there was so much build up from the debris, which was on fire, that I could not, for the life of me, remove the tray. So I am dosing piles of baking soda on the flames, attempting to extinguish the fire, to no avail. I realized we were on the brink of losing complete control of the situation and the wine dinner, with all of its hungry and eager participants, might just be sacrificed for the health of the kitchen not burning down. The critical nature of the situation can not be overstated. Because our kitchen is somewhat open, I had to actually remain calm enough and appear as if nothing was happening. I realized my only hope of saving the dinner was to remove the tray, otherwise the next move was to grab the fire extinguisher and blast the entire stove. Obviously, this would have sabotaged the whole dinner. I pulled and pulled on the burning tray one last time. Finally, it broke free. I threw the tray on the ground, showered it in baking soda, and extinguished the fire. From there, with black burnt ash all around us, we finished plating the first course.
I looked at the clock when the forty fifth plate was put in the window, it was now 8:05. It took over an hour to put the first course out on a five course wine dinner. Thankfully, the first course was a home run. This means it was so good, that it was just enough to put everyone back on track. I can only imagine the mood of the audience, given the fact that they had been sitting since 6:30 and wondering where the food was. The rest of the dinner, from an execution standpoint, was alright but not great. The second course took some time, although by the third course we were rolling and back on track. Thankfully, the dessert blew everyone's mind. The fennel sorbet stole the show, and still people comment that it was one of the best things they have ever put into their mouths. I chalked it up as just another night in the life and times of Andouille..
I decided after this debacle that no matter what, my Sous Chef would always accompany me during a wine dinner. That said, we have such a great crew right now, better than we have ever been at the Restaurant. It's an amazing place to be operating at, and its allowed me more time away from the Restaurant than ever before. Of course its all by design, and the hard work and energy of each one of our staff members.
As a result, I was able to witness my 100th Phish show this summer, in Denver. And it was a very special show indeed, spent with very special company, and with super sensational song selections. Every song Phish played that night began with the letter "s". I now spell century with an "s".. Need I mention there was a rainbow prior to the show starting? Lightning all around the venue? A crazy storm blowing off the Colorado rockies and providing some epic scenery? This all contributed to a magical occasion, one for the ages. I have now seen 102 Phish shows, and on some level I feel as though my life is complete.
On to the yoga scene and phenomenal workshop in South Dakota with the founder of Anusara Yoga, John Friend. We did nine hours of yoga each day, on Saturday and Sunday, from 8am-6pm with a few breaks in between. It was epic! The knowledge of John Friend and his passion for life, yoga, and connections with the divine inspired me to a whole new level. My yoga practice has been somewhat steady recently, especially since this workshop, although I am still trying to find out ways to get on my mat every day! Even if its only for 10 minutes, 20 minutes, whatever, that is my goal. I will keep this blog updated on my progress. My meditation practice is still fairly solid, twice a day, for 22 minutes. This will eventually increase to 25 minutes, once I am ready for a stronger dose. As of right now, 22 minutes is more than enough.
I have thought about removing the running part of my blog, since I am not really a runner anymore! I mean I am still an aspiring distance runner, its just that I haven't really run recently. Now that I am done with physical therapy, running has been something that has been difficult for me to find time to do. There is always tomorrow, though, and I will remain optimistic for now.
I have been battling hospital bills, all from Spokane or travel to and from that lonely place. Its me against the insurance companies as well as the hospitals, and the fight will be long, bloody, and difficult. I'm in it to win it, and thankfully I have plenty of Tupac on my ipod to inspire me to keep on battling.
I am often reminded of how far I have come since my accident, especially when I think of how I used to not be able to walk. This was vividly apparent when I visited North Valley Hospital the other day for the first time since I practically lived there for three weeks in February. Walking with ease down the hallways I used to roam in my wheelchair I suddenly realized how often I forget that I was severely injured just months before. The feeling that overcame me when I saw the hospital was profound- I was immediately thrust back into the memories of my time spent there. Honestly, I still value my time and the staff at North Valley greatly. The staff there is incredibly inviting, professional, caring and compassionate. If only all hospitals operated the way they do, the health care system and the world surrounding it would be a very healthy place to navigate. Unfortunately our current system is flawed beyond belief, created by a bunch of money grubbing no good hypocrites and magicians who sole purpose is to screw the audience of their admission price, fooling them with their slogans and mission statements. At least, it seems that way to me.
None the less, my memories of North Valley Hospital are extremely fond and full of moments that I enjoy reminiscing about. The view of Columbia Mountain and Teakettle, which I could view from my hospital bed, will always be different since my time in the hospital. Occasionally I would be awake for the sunrise. Watching the sun elevate over those mountains inspired me greatly. I vowed, in those moments, I would never again take my health for granted. Thankfully, I have the hospital, those mountains, and all the memories to remind me how grateful I truly am. For I know what it is like to not be able to move, to have to use a catheter, to wonder if I would walk again, and I also know that it means to be truly alive.
Ahh, yes, the energy of being me. Life continues to take on a brand new meaning. I'm turning 35 in less than two weeks. To be honest, I never thought I could make it this far. How will I celebrate this monumental date? It just so happens that Furthur will be playing Missoula. Looks like I am going to be dancing to the music I grew up loving, the stuff that really started it all for me, and with people I have come to know and love. How delightful!
Sunday, August 14, 2011
Up or down its up to you!
Often when I begin a blog post, I feel a strong urge to define the reasons as to the length of time between entries. Its as if I need to explain why I haven't been posting with relative frequency. As I sit and ponder who I am trying to explain these reasons to, I realize it is not necessarily for the readers, its actually for me. So I usually wade through the process of apologizing to the blog, or rather to myself, about how I have not been writing. This saga seems to be ongoing, as my last update has over a hundred words devoted towards the topic. Yet again, I find myself wondering the reasons behind the stories I choose to share: are they for me or are they for you as a reader? This peculiar subject, that is explored continuously, helps inject a spirited motivation of debate for beginning each post. A pattern is developing and I am content with these motions that assist in introducing the words to the screen.
Picking a title is usually a challenging decision, as sometimes the title is clear long before I begin writing, while other times I must start writing prior to the title surfacing. Tonight is one of those occasions the title has eluded me. And with that in mind I dive into the depths of the Tales of Andouille.
Summer is undoubtedly in full swing now and Montana is magical this time of year. The weather is absolutely magnificent. If you have not experienced Northwest Montana in the summertime, then you probably haven't fully lived and you may consider your life to be less than its worth. For those of you who have tasted the sheer delight of the Flathead Valley in July/August, clearly you are aware of what I speak of. The long days, the endless skies, the colorful array, all contribute to the pure enjoyment of a typical day. I feel blessed to be living in such a place, where crystal clear lakes beckon the swimmer to jump in and feel alive, the lush green hills invite hikers with unforgettable scenery and uncrowded trails, the big skies dazzle the mind with infinite displays of color and shapes, all completed by a backdrop of beautiful mountains as well as a plethora of other outdoor activities to occupy the mind and invigorate the body.
It's hard to believe August is almost halfway complete! I love how calendars have a way of reminding us how much we are truly enjoying time available to us. I'm somewhere in between feeling like I have been working all the time, and finding time to play, so the balance is fairly even. This is a unusual spot for me to be in, especially since we are deep in the throngs of our busiest season at the Restaurant. July and August are by far the two busiest months of the year. In the past my summers would come and go like the wind on a prairie. Now, however, I have found a greater harmony with time, and it has made all the difference. There are still weeks when 70 hours are spent at work- that said, 70 is far more manageable than 90, especially when there is a day off during that week!
The Restaurant is going extremely well and business is booming. July was our second busiest month in the history of operating, and almost broke the record for first place. August is slamming so far, things are definitely happening in a ascending direction here at the Restaurant. Speaking of ascension, the staff at the Restaurant is climbing towards the peaks of excellence. This is a real treat to witness, pride represents a piece of the feelings I have for the progress we have all made over the years together. The beauty of this ascending development is not only in the growth of each individual both professionally and personally, yet also in the essence of my ability to delegate more tasks, as well as, have time for myself outside of work. It's taken me such a long time to reach this point, as I've striven for years and years to actually make this happen. The fact that its evolving and materializing before my eyes is a incredible testament to the hard work and energy of all the players on the team of Cafe Kandahar. The pursuit of perfection is to be pursued but never attained. Excellence is found in the realization that goals can be achieved through focus and dedication, consistency, and a willingness to always be better no matter the circumstance or situation.
Things have come full circle for me. A cycle is complete and I now find myself back at the beginning, or the top, or the peak capacity point for realizing the road I have traveled has led me there and back again. I speak of the home I now reside in, for when I moved to Whitefish some 11 years ago, I dreamt of living in the very same house I now call home. My two dear friends Mark and Dorian lived in a cabin above Whitefish Lake next to a incredibly intelligent and unique individual named Skip. Skip owns the property as well as the cabin. Back then the cabin was a small two bedroom place with a stellar view of Whitefish Lake. I have very fond memories of spending time at that cabin. How lucky am I to reside in the very cabin I once dreamed of. Not to mention the place has been remodeled since then, with bigger windows, a single bedroom, and a large living area. Fortune does not always come in some form of currency, for this treasure yields a far greater reward than any monetary amount.
Keeping true to the focus of this blog, yes, I have been running. Only my runs have not been very far distances, they are more like a short jog. Yet I have run a mile on several occasions. I'd like to get back into the routine a little more, finding time has been difficult lately. I do a lot of running around at work, in the kitchen, short sprints and deft moves are my specialty. Speaking of deft moves, I've been exercising my dance abilities with my favorite band from, the Phish from Vermont. In fact, just last weekend I was enjoying a two day affair at the Gorge, flying to Hollywood Bowl in L.A. for a night, then abruptly changing my plans and embarking on a quick excursion to Lake Tahoe for a show also. The Lake Tahoe switch was brought about by a dreamgirl, and the chance was there to take a leap of faith and follow my heart.
Some have suggested that I do not get so personal with my blog for anyone can read this. Those very same people have never broken their pelvis, nor have they lied on a hospital bed wondering if they would ever walk again. To those people I say: here is my life, take it or leave it. I've got nothing to hide, nor would I want to, as sharing my experience with all of you is not only an offering of who I am, its also a reflection of what I choose.
In the past month, I've met Joe Montana, Thierry Henry, Bill Romanowski, Tyler Florence, and a few other notables throughout this game of life. Its all par for the course, or grist for the mill, in the life and times of Andy Blanton. I'm happy to be me, I'm even happier to share this part of me with you. I also spent some time with a incredible being, Shri Mahayogi, an enlightened yoga master from Japan. I have yet to be in the presence of such a powerful and amazing indiviudal. I watched in pure amazement as he took on different forms while sitting in his presence. I saw my Dad in him, then a young child, then a wise sage, then a old Japanese man, then him again, then another being, it was a transformative experience. I feel as though I no longer have any questions about life, at least for the time being, his words echoed the truth and the essence of the source we all come from and return to.
My yoga practice is progressing to a sweet and deep place. My meditation practice is also bearing tremendous fruits. My body and mind are opening to places further than my imagination. It is true that consistent practice does work, particularly for strenghtening and deepening ones asana. I'm practically a poster boy for this, since it was only a few months ago that I was still in a wheelchair. I am eternally grateful for my health and happiness, after all I am responsible for my own well being. Its good to be alive, even better to be well. Remember that each step, each breath, every moment, every thought, its all precious, and it all effects the next step, breath, moment, and thought. The seeds of life are constantly sowing patterns of the future, what you plant is what you choose to grow. How will you nuture the seedlings so you may reap what you sow? The question remains, however, the answer is up to you. Up or down its up to you! Bam, there it is, the title. And just like that, so comes the ending.
Love
andy
Picking a title is usually a challenging decision, as sometimes the title is clear long before I begin writing, while other times I must start writing prior to the title surfacing. Tonight is one of those occasions the title has eluded me. And with that in mind I dive into the depths of the Tales of Andouille.
Summer is undoubtedly in full swing now and Montana is magical this time of year. The weather is absolutely magnificent. If you have not experienced Northwest Montana in the summertime, then you probably haven't fully lived and you may consider your life to be less than its worth. For those of you who have tasted the sheer delight of the Flathead Valley in July/August, clearly you are aware of what I speak of. The long days, the endless skies, the colorful array, all contribute to the pure enjoyment of a typical day. I feel blessed to be living in such a place, where crystal clear lakes beckon the swimmer to jump in and feel alive, the lush green hills invite hikers with unforgettable scenery and uncrowded trails, the big skies dazzle the mind with infinite displays of color and shapes, all completed by a backdrop of beautiful mountains as well as a plethora of other outdoor activities to occupy the mind and invigorate the body.
It's hard to believe August is almost halfway complete! I love how calendars have a way of reminding us how much we are truly enjoying time available to us. I'm somewhere in between feeling like I have been working all the time, and finding time to play, so the balance is fairly even. This is a unusual spot for me to be in, especially since we are deep in the throngs of our busiest season at the Restaurant. July and August are by far the two busiest months of the year. In the past my summers would come and go like the wind on a prairie. Now, however, I have found a greater harmony with time, and it has made all the difference. There are still weeks when 70 hours are spent at work- that said, 70 is far more manageable than 90, especially when there is a day off during that week!
The Restaurant is going extremely well and business is booming. July was our second busiest month in the history of operating, and almost broke the record for first place. August is slamming so far, things are definitely happening in a ascending direction here at the Restaurant. Speaking of ascension, the staff at the Restaurant is climbing towards the peaks of excellence. This is a real treat to witness, pride represents a piece of the feelings I have for the progress we have all made over the years together. The beauty of this ascending development is not only in the growth of each individual both professionally and personally, yet also in the essence of my ability to delegate more tasks, as well as, have time for myself outside of work. It's taken me such a long time to reach this point, as I've striven for years and years to actually make this happen. The fact that its evolving and materializing before my eyes is a incredible testament to the hard work and energy of all the players on the team of Cafe Kandahar. The pursuit of perfection is to be pursued but never attained. Excellence is found in the realization that goals can be achieved through focus and dedication, consistency, and a willingness to always be better no matter the circumstance or situation.
Things have come full circle for me. A cycle is complete and I now find myself back at the beginning, or the top, or the peak capacity point for realizing the road I have traveled has led me there and back again. I speak of the home I now reside in, for when I moved to Whitefish some 11 years ago, I dreamt of living in the very same house I now call home. My two dear friends Mark and Dorian lived in a cabin above Whitefish Lake next to a incredibly intelligent and unique individual named Skip. Skip owns the property as well as the cabin. Back then the cabin was a small two bedroom place with a stellar view of Whitefish Lake. I have very fond memories of spending time at that cabin. How lucky am I to reside in the very cabin I once dreamed of. Not to mention the place has been remodeled since then, with bigger windows, a single bedroom, and a large living area. Fortune does not always come in some form of currency, for this treasure yields a far greater reward than any monetary amount.
Keeping true to the focus of this blog, yes, I have been running. Only my runs have not been very far distances, they are more like a short jog. Yet I have run a mile on several occasions. I'd like to get back into the routine a little more, finding time has been difficult lately. I do a lot of running around at work, in the kitchen, short sprints and deft moves are my specialty. Speaking of deft moves, I've been exercising my dance abilities with my favorite band from, the Phish from Vermont. In fact, just last weekend I was enjoying a two day affair at the Gorge, flying to Hollywood Bowl in L.A. for a night, then abruptly changing my plans and embarking on a quick excursion to Lake Tahoe for a show also. The Lake Tahoe switch was brought about by a dreamgirl, and the chance was there to take a leap of faith and follow my heart.
Some have suggested that I do not get so personal with my blog for anyone can read this. Those very same people have never broken their pelvis, nor have they lied on a hospital bed wondering if they would ever walk again. To those people I say: here is my life, take it or leave it. I've got nothing to hide, nor would I want to, as sharing my experience with all of you is not only an offering of who I am, its also a reflection of what I choose.
In the past month, I've met Joe Montana, Thierry Henry, Bill Romanowski, Tyler Florence, and a few other notables throughout this game of life. Its all par for the course, or grist for the mill, in the life and times of Andy Blanton. I'm happy to be me, I'm even happier to share this part of me with you. I also spent some time with a incredible being, Shri Mahayogi, an enlightened yoga master from Japan. I have yet to be in the presence of such a powerful and amazing indiviudal. I watched in pure amazement as he took on different forms while sitting in his presence. I saw my Dad in him, then a young child, then a wise sage, then a old Japanese man, then him again, then another being, it was a transformative experience. I feel as though I no longer have any questions about life, at least for the time being, his words echoed the truth and the essence of the source we all come from and return to.
My yoga practice is progressing to a sweet and deep place. My meditation practice is also bearing tremendous fruits. My body and mind are opening to places further than my imagination. It is true that consistent practice does work, particularly for strenghtening and deepening ones asana. I'm practically a poster boy for this, since it was only a few months ago that I was still in a wheelchair. I am eternally grateful for my health and happiness, after all I am responsible for my own well being. Its good to be alive, even better to be well. Remember that each step, each breath, every moment, every thought, its all precious, and it all effects the next step, breath, moment, and thought. The seeds of life are constantly sowing patterns of the future, what you plant is what you choose to grow. How will you nuture the seedlings so you may reap what you sow? The question remains, however, the answer is up to you. Up or down its up to you! Bam, there it is, the title. And just like that, so comes the ending.
Love
andy
Saturday, July 9, 2011
The Battle of the Iron Chiefs & the pursuit of love and devotion
Neglect is a word often associated with parenting, although it seems to be the pervasive adjective that comes to mind as I begin this entry. I'd be willing to bet that most parents do not intend on neglecting their child. It might just happen in such a way that life engulfs the time available, perhaps even the energy as well, leaving the gap in between love and devotion. It's usually the child who fills that sense of neglect, instead of the parent, even though the child usually deserves none of the lack of attention that follows. I can only hope, dear readers, that you do not feel neglected, despite the fact that I feel as though I've left you hanging, to some extent.
Rest assured there are plenty of stories to tell. And whether or not it is more enjoyable for me to post, or for you to read, is left to each of us to decide. Thankfully for both of us the unveiling can begin! I'll start with where I am, in this very moment, and what I am up to. Tapping these keys in the office of the Restaurant, late Friday night, with a bottle of Cabernet Sauvignon, (1989, Alexander Valley Vineyards, to be exact). If you know anything about wine (or even if you don't), this wine is far from shabby. The color of this well aged beauty is likely the color of love, if there is such a hue that exists. The age of the wine should indicate immediately the quality of what exists in the glass. I feel blessed and deserved at the same time to be sipping on such a luxurious and delightful wine. I guess I can revel in the marvels of being a Restaurant owner, who has access to gems like this, as well as the ability to save them for very special occasions. And this moment seems incredibly special, for these stories are yearning to be told- like this fermented grape juice I am tasting, that was stuck in a bottle for 22 years, just waiting for this very moment to be shared with all of you.
Each time my ring finger on my right hand touches the keys I'm reminded of how I received a precise cut, earlier tonight, that chose to bleed at a very inopportune moment. Last night my index finger received two sharp slices also, blood finding its way to the surface thanks to the fresh oxygen. Just wait till you hear the culprit of this peculiar wound. A knife? Nah, very fine chards of broken glass. My movement is particularly quick on the job; therefore, as my hand graced swiftly across surfaces, where these fine chards pierced my skin with a razor blade like swath, I became aware of what happened once I noticed red liquid showing tracks of what just happened. It took a brief sleuthing to discover the cause of the mysterious slicing. The staff admitted to breaking a glass in the areas where the damage occured. The doors of the Restaurant were just about to open, in both scenarios, so I am left with few options. Being an experienced line cook with a high tolerance for pain with my hands, I went for the warrior like maneuver. I took my finger and immediately seared it on the flattop, with extremely high heat, ideally calderizing the bleeding cut. In addition, a good smear of some freshly ground black pepper to help coagulate the bleeding, and about 15 minutes later I'm good to go. I do not recommend this technique for several reasons, most of which revolves around pain and discomfort. Sometimes, however, one must perservere by any means necessary. Its really hard to calderize your own finger, although its even harder to work a busy dinner service with a bleeding finger.
Ahh yes, of course, the depths and trenches of being a line cook, a position I remember quite well. Allow the introduction of the return of the burns which adorn my fingertips, my hands, and occasionally my wrists or arms. Lest I forget the smell of cinged arm hair each time I shower or wash my hands. The grueling series of tickets with no place to heat skillets, the shortcomings of the kitchen staff, and the mistakes that irk me to a very challenging place. Sometimes I feel like a professional wrestler on crack at a theme park, as I am so unbelievably pumped up with emotion, while at the same time, my mood swings can become like a roller coaster that twists, turns, and eventually goes upside down. I figure since I can recognize this, then I'm well on my way to modifying this extreme character that ultimately just wants to body slam moments instead of manage them with greater efficiency.
Naturally this is all what takes place behind the scenes in the daily life of the Restaurant. On the other hand, our guest experience is at an all time high, so life is good as a diner at Cafe Kandahar. And I am thrilled to be back on my feet in the kitchen once again! Not sure how I feel about being online six nights a week again, pushing 70 hours a week, forcing my pelvis and lower back to conform to the grind. I still get sore, sometimes to the point of limping, as I am definitely still in a stage of healing. Yet with virtually a new kitchen staff, and plenty of business to keep up with, it seems a necessity for this contribution. I trust that in due time this will change, as I have intended, in order for me to return to a place of balance. I mean the whole time I was away from the kitchen and laying lonely in a hospital bed, blessed with a completely different perspective about what is important, I figured the days of the kitchen life I just spoke of were both unnecessary and extreme. I'll agree now with the extreme aspect, although the unnecessary part is hard to accept. Thankfully you can join me in this journey of finding the balance my spirit so desperately craves between the two.
I am in a relative position to complain about my situation, however, since I've just returned from an epic excursion to the east coast. I'll get to that soon enough, first I'm going to return back in time to the place where my previous blog entry left off. Cue the days of early May and my first few steps without crutches again. I was still using crutches as a good part of my daily experience to assist with the lack of strength and mobility.
And then there was the food and wine festival in Billings. Billings is about a 8 plus hour drive from Whitefish. That should give some of you a good idea of how big Montana is, especially for those of you who haven't driven across this state before. So me, my sous chef, and dining room manager/sommelier departed on Monday morning, arrived in Billings that evening, with a car full of ingredients for the Iron Chef competition as well as the cooking class. The Iron Chef competition took place on Tuesday evening in a student ballroom located below a dormitory on the campus of MSU-Billings (Montana State University). We had Tuesday morning and afternoon to prep for both the Iron Chef contest and a cooking class. I spent most of the day sitting down, prepping what I could, saving energy for the big event that night. There were two teams competing- a team from Billings and a team from Whitefish. Funny thing was, the Billings team consisted of three seperate chefs from different Restaurants, whereas the Whitefish team was my questionably assembled crew. My sous chef had worked with me for several years, but only as a line cook and was just recently promoted to the role of sous. Even though my dining room manager had owned a restaurant and is a decent cook taboot, its not like I had a competent team to show up with to compete against three other chefs. Not to mention I was still on crutches for most of the day, able to walk for brief periods only. Both teams knew the secret ingredient, which was honey, prior to the competition. I had my three dishes fairly well thought out and constructed, mentally at least, the only thing needing to be done was the execution. My crew was briefed the night before and the day of the competition, other than that they were only following directions.
Meanwhile, the other team of three chefs decided that each one of them would execute a course. Smart playing on their part, so given the circumstances I'd say our crew was the clear underdog. As well their crew knew the ropes with the competition and what to expect from the execution angle. Our crew hand no clue what to expect, nor what we could or could not do in advance. Nevermind all of that though, we came to win and losing is not an option. We had to comprise three courses using honey and we were judged on presentation, taste, and originality. Both teams had one hour to complete the challenge and this was in full view of about 150 people. All the while these people in attendance were asking questions, in addition to a mic'd announcer who constantly wanted an explanation about you, your food, or adjectives to describe both. Needless to say when it was all and said and done we won the competition handily, scoring higher in each of the three categories for a clean sweep.
Before the competition ended, however, it was a hilarious sequence of events. First our crew was clearly pressed for time. Thinking that I wanted my food to be hot, freshly seared, perfectly cooked, etc.., I waited until the last possible moment to sear my main proteins. My app was Seared Foie Gras, Huckleberry Gastrique (with Honey), a Butternut Squash Puree, Microgreens, and a Honey Garnish.. My entree was Yellowfin Tuna, Almond Crust, Lemongrass Creme, Tomato-Ginger Compote (with Honey), Arugula, and Saffron Oil. Dessert was a Caramelized Pear and Honey Tart, with a Honey Anglaise and Caramel Honey.
Anyway with five minutes left in the competition, our dessert was the only thing done. Most of the other accompaniments were complete, except for cooking the foie and tuna followed by plating the items. We needed to prepare four dishes of each course. Well, at precisely four minutes to go, with the audience and announcers freaking out that I haven't even started cooking yet, I dropped the tuna and foie, respectively, into smoking hot skillets. This created quite an exciting moment, the crowd gasping in awe while I watched over the searing proteins with a relative calmness- knowing full well we had just enough time to bring it all together. Only problem was my crew was not on the same page. They seemed to be identifying with the audience and freaking out that time was about to run out, so they began frantically attempting to finish dishes- in the wrong order, as well as sloppily and hastily assembling plates. When I turned around with cooked proteins, with less than a minute to go, our plates were in complete disarray. With a dizzying like speed I quickly tried to replate our items so that they might flourish, knowing full well that we could lose this competition, barking orders at my crew to no productive avail. And just then, something magical happened. The fire alarm went off! The noise was an awfully loud sound, incredibly obtrusive and distracting, clearly this was not part of the event. My crew immediately thought this was the sound of the end of the competition and actually proceeded to freak out even more. I was able to gain control of the moment, replate all of our dishes amidst the complete chaos, and put us back on track with our initial intentions of what our plates were supposed to look like.
The smoke from the foie gras and tuna had not only set off the fire alarm, but it bought us enough time, as well as a distraction, to finish in style despite having run over the time limit! A really funny part about this whole situation is the alarm going off actually cleared out the dorms above us and invited the fire department to come and have a look around. Keep in mind we were in a large ballroom so the amount of smoke that was created by the foie and tuna was fairly thick, creating a hazy like setting.
We did well enough to garner victory and we were pleased with the results. Like the good competitors we are, we enjoyed a few beers with our competition afterwards at a local Restaurant. We then learned of how much they planned for this event, prepped that day, and had a distinct advantage going into the competition. Of course, that made the three of us feel even better about what we were able to accomplish. Did I mention I was limping throughout the contest? Part of our prize that we receieved was a bottle of wine, with a message that is written on the bottle- Congrats Iron Chief Competition 2011. Either somebody mispelled Chef, or they were making a deserved pun at us, calling us Chiefs. No matter what, we smoked the place out!
The next day was a cooking class for 40 people, four courses, from 11am-2pm. There is something about getting in front of a group of people and sharing a passion with them, I feel so natural when I have the opportunity to do so. It was a great event and well received. Looks like I'll be heading back next year, perhaps as judge for the Iron Chef competition since I feel that given the circumstances there is no need to compete again- especially if I am healthy with a fully talented crew in tow.
Aside from Billings and some fantastic fly fishing on the infamous Madison River, my adventures, being upright and on my feet again, included a trip to the east coast to immerse in the land of Phish tour. So me and a friend drove from Whitefish, Montana, all the way out to New York City in a matter of days to embark on a legendary journey. I absolutely love NYC and I was able to attend another lovely yoga class at my favorite studio, Virayoga in Soho. Everytime I visit NYC I am blown away by the energy of the city. I could have spent the entire month there, but we came to see Phish instead.
Beginning with a three day kickoff, memorial day weekend, in Bethel, NY, the site of the original woodstock, the tour started in glorious fashion. My little brother and I enjoyed the opening weekend together. As well, I was able to connect with lots of great friends whom I had not seen for quite some time. The rest of the tour went something like this: two nights in Holmdel, NJ, then Detroit>Cleveland>Cincinnati, followed by Boston>Darien, NY, and Camden, NJ>two nights in Baltimore, then two nights in Atlanta, Charlotte, Raleigh, and finally Portsmouth. We saw 18 shows in 24 days. We traveled about 15,000 miles total, including the trip to and from the east coast and Montana. We sold Gumbo to help cover costs along the way, as well as water and gatorade. It was a good amount of work, although we stayed mostly in hotels, hanging with friends, meeting new phanners, and loving life on the road. I adore the adventures I shared with people I love, my favorite band, and the travels to new places. I danced like I was the funkiest person there, most of the time I was, with my silver sequined disco ball pants that I wore every night, I was killing it! We had great seats every show, acquired from a good amount of time spent purchasing good tickets as soon as they went on-sale and scoring epic re-releases a week or two before the shows began.
I felt like a kid again, only this time with a touch of maturity and knowledge. It was a time to remember, a joyous journey full of life, love, and happiness. I think back to all of the wonderful people I met, all of the fabulous shows I saw, and the memories which accompany both. I relish the time spent with a darling young lady, from Jersey, who helped re-instill a groove within me that dances with abundance. She ascends to the fondest of memories from the trip, in part to her unique and spontaneous nature. I treasure the moments from this remarkable adventure, truly one of a kind, a unforgettable trip to a place most people barely visit, let alone conceive of.
And here I sit, late at night, contemplating the vast differences between then and now. Without one, I could not experience the other. I am grateful for the opportunity to live both as Andy Blanton. The challenge now is to balance the love and devotion. I mean, the love I have for the food I create is so great that I am willing to sacrifice my physical and mental well being- all for the enjoyment of others. Of course there is a sense of enjoyment within me also, yet it really boils down to other people paying for what I conceive and create. At the same time: how important is this to me now, specifically after the accident, given the fact that I have seen a spectrum of what life can be like when the reality of being is questioned inside the context of a traumatic realm? There is a large part of me that is devoted to my practice of yoga and meditation, something my accident help awaken, the importance of which can not be denied for me at this stage. All of that said, I'm still struggling with love and devotion of each passion and how to integrate the pursuit of the two.
I like that this is where I am, trying to balance what I love with what I love to be devoted to. What a blessed place to be! There is little mystery as to what I want to happen. The mystery lies in the execution. The figuring out has been figured, its a matter of solving an equation now. The laws of the universe are flexible enough to accommodate my minor dilemna. I hope that you may find balance, peace, and harmony with whatever may seem troubling to you in your life. Until next time,
andino
Rest assured there are plenty of stories to tell. And whether or not it is more enjoyable for me to post, or for you to read, is left to each of us to decide. Thankfully for both of us the unveiling can begin! I'll start with where I am, in this very moment, and what I am up to. Tapping these keys in the office of the Restaurant, late Friday night, with a bottle of Cabernet Sauvignon, (1989, Alexander Valley Vineyards, to be exact). If you know anything about wine (or even if you don't), this wine is far from shabby. The color of this well aged beauty is likely the color of love, if there is such a hue that exists. The age of the wine should indicate immediately the quality of what exists in the glass. I feel blessed and deserved at the same time to be sipping on such a luxurious and delightful wine. I guess I can revel in the marvels of being a Restaurant owner, who has access to gems like this, as well as the ability to save them for very special occasions. And this moment seems incredibly special, for these stories are yearning to be told- like this fermented grape juice I am tasting, that was stuck in a bottle for 22 years, just waiting for this very moment to be shared with all of you.
Each time my ring finger on my right hand touches the keys I'm reminded of how I received a precise cut, earlier tonight, that chose to bleed at a very inopportune moment. Last night my index finger received two sharp slices also, blood finding its way to the surface thanks to the fresh oxygen. Just wait till you hear the culprit of this peculiar wound. A knife? Nah, very fine chards of broken glass. My movement is particularly quick on the job; therefore, as my hand graced swiftly across surfaces, where these fine chards pierced my skin with a razor blade like swath, I became aware of what happened once I noticed red liquid showing tracks of what just happened. It took a brief sleuthing to discover the cause of the mysterious slicing. The staff admitted to breaking a glass in the areas where the damage occured. The doors of the Restaurant were just about to open, in both scenarios, so I am left with few options. Being an experienced line cook with a high tolerance for pain with my hands, I went for the warrior like maneuver. I took my finger and immediately seared it on the flattop, with extremely high heat, ideally calderizing the bleeding cut. In addition, a good smear of some freshly ground black pepper to help coagulate the bleeding, and about 15 minutes later I'm good to go. I do not recommend this technique for several reasons, most of which revolves around pain and discomfort. Sometimes, however, one must perservere by any means necessary. Its really hard to calderize your own finger, although its even harder to work a busy dinner service with a bleeding finger.
Ahh yes, of course, the depths and trenches of being a line cook, a position I remember quite well. Allow the introduction of the return of the burns which adorn my fingertips, my hands, and occasionally my wrists or arms. Lest I forget the smell of cinged arm hair each time I shower or wash my hands. The grueling series of tickets with no place to heat skillets, the shortcomings of the kitchen staff, and the mistakes that irk me to a very challenging place. Sometimes I feel like a professional wrestler on crack at a theme park, as I am so unbelievably pumped up with emotion, while at the same time, my mood swings can become like a roller coaster that twists, turns, and eventually goes upside down. I figure since I can recognize this, then I'm well on my way to modifying this extreme character that ultimately just wants to body slam moments instead of manage them with greater efficiency.
Naturally this is all what takes place behind the scenes in the daily life of the Restaurant. On the other hand, our guest experience is at an all time high, so life is good as a diner at Cafe Kandahar. And I am thrilled to be back on my feet in the kitchen once again! Not sure how I feel about being online six nights a week again, pushing 70 hours a week, forcing my pelvis and lower back to conform to the grind. I still get sore, sometimes to the point of limping, as I am definitely still in a stage of healing. Yet with virtually a new kitchen staff, and plenty of business to keep up with, it seems a necessity for this contribution. I trust that in due time this will change, as I have intended, in order for me to return to a place of balance. I mean the whole time I was away from the kitchen and laying lonely in a hospital bed, blessed with a completely different perspective about what is important, I figured the days of the kitchen life I just spoke of were both unnecessary and extreme. I'll agree now with the extreme aspect, although the unnecessary part is hard to accept. Thankfully you can join me in this journey of finding the balance my spirit so desperately craves between the two.
I am in a relative position to complain about my situation, however, since I've just returned from an epic excursion to the east coast. I'll get to that soon enough, first I'm going to return back in time to the place where my previous blog entry left off. Cue the days of early May and my first few steps without crutches again. I was still using crutches as a good part of my daily experience to assist with the lack of strength and mobility.
And then there was the food and wine festival in Billings. Billings is about a 8 plus hour drive from Whitefish. That should give some of you a good idea of how big Montana is, especially for those of you who haven't driven across this state before. So me, my sous chef, and dining room manager/sommelier departed on Monday morning, arrived in Billings that evening, with a car full of ingredients for the Iron Chef competition as well as the cooking class. The Iron Chef competition took place on Tuesday evening in a student ballroom located below a dormitory on the campus of MSU-Billings (Montana State University). We had Tuesday morning and afternoon to prep for both the Iron Chef contest and a cooking class. I spent most of the day sitting down, prepping what I could, saving energy for the big event that night. There were two teams competing- a team from Billings and a team from Whitefish. Funny thing was, the Billings team consisted of three seperate chefs from different Restaurants, whereas the Whitefish team was my questionably assembled crew. My sous chef had worked with me for several years, but only as a line cook and was just recently promoted to the role of sous. Even though my dining room manager had owned a restaurant and is a decent cook taboot, its not like I had a competent team to show up with to compete against three other chefs. Not to mention I was still on crutches for most of the day, able to walk for brief periods only. Both teams knew the secret ingredient, which was honey, prior to the competition. I had my three dishes fairly well thought out and constructed, mentally at least, the only thing needing to be done was the execution. My crew was briefed the night before and the day of the competition, other than that they were only following directions.
Meanwhile, the other team of three chefs decided that each one of them would execute a course. Smart playing on their part, so given the circumstances I'd say our crew was the clear underdog. As well their crew knew the ropes with the competition and what to expect from the execution angle. Our crew hand no clue what to expect, nor what we could or could not do in advance. Nevermind all of that though, we came to win and losing is not an option. We had to comprise three courses using honey and we were judged on presentation, taste, and originality. Both teams had one hour to complete the challenge and this was in full view of about 150 people. All the while these people in attendance were asking questions, in addition to a mic'd announcer who constantly wanted an explanation about you, your food, or adjectives to describe both. Needless to say when it was all and said and done we won the competition handily, scoring higher in each of the three categories for a clean sweep.
Before the competition ended, however, it was a hilarious sequence of events. First our crew was clearly pressed for time. Thinking that I wanted my food to be hot, freshly seared, perfectly cooked, etc.., I waited until the last possible moment to sear my main proteins. My app was Seared Foie Gras, Huckleberry Gastrique (with Honey), a Butternut Squash Puree, Microgreens, and a Honey Garnish.. My entree was Yellowfin Tuna, Almond Crust, Lemongrass Creme, Tomato-Ginger Compote (with Honey), Arugula, and Saffron Oil. Dessert was a Caramelized Pear and Honey Tart, with a Honey Anglaise and Caramel Honey.
Anyway with five minutes left in the competition, our dessert was the only thing done. Most of the other accompaniments were complete, except for cooking the foie and tuna followed by plating the items. We needed to prepare four dishes of each course. Well, at precisely four minutes to go, with the audience and announcers freaking out that I haven't even started cooking yet, I dropped the tuna and foie, respectively, into smoking hot skillets. This created quite an exciting moment, the crowd gasping in awe while I watched over the searing proteins with a relative calmness- knowing full well we had just enough time to bring it all together. Only problem was my crew was not on the same page. They seemed to be identifying with the audience and freaking out that time was about to run out, so they began frantically attempting to finish dishes- in the wrong order, as well as sloppily and hastily assembling plates. When I turned around with cooked proteins, with less than a minute to go, our plates were in complete disarray. With a dizzying like speed I quickly tried to replate our items so that they might flourish, knowing full well that we could lose this competition, barking orders at my crew to no productive avail. And just then, something magical happened. The fire alarm went off! The noise was an awfully loud sound, incredibly obtrusive and distracting, clearly this was not part of the event. My crew immediately thought this was the sound of the end of the competition and actually proceeded to freak out even more. I was able to gain control of the moment, replate all of our dishes amidst the complete chaos, and put us back on track with our initial intentions of what our plates were supposed to look like.
The smoke from the foie gras and tuna had not only set off the fire alarm, but it bought us enough time, as well as a distraction, to finish in style despite having run over the time limit! A really funny part about this whole situation is the alarm going off actually cleared out the dorms above us and invited the fire department to come and have a look around. Keep in mind we were in a large ballroom so the amount of smoke that was created by the foie and tuna was fairly thick, creating a hazy like setting.
We did well enough to garner victory and we were pleased with the results. Like the good competitors we are, we enjoyed a few beers with our competition afterwards at a local Restaurant. We then learned of how much they planned for this event, prepped that day, and had a distinct advantage going into the competition. Of course, that made the three of us feel even better about what we were able to accomplish. Did I mention I was limping throughout the contest? Part of our prize that we receieved was a bottle of wine, with a message that is written on the bottle- Congrats Iron Chief Competition 2011. Either somebody mispelled Chef, or they were making a deserved pun at us, calling us Chiefs. No matter what, we smoked the place out!
The next day was a cooking class for 40 people, four courses, from 11am-2pm. There is something about getting in front of a group of people and sharing a passion with them, I feel so natural when I have the opportunity to do so. It was a great event and well received. Looks like I'll be heading back next year, perhaps as judge for the Iron Chef competition since I feel that given the circumstances there is no need to compete again- especially if I am healthy with a fully talented crew in tow.
Aside from Billings and some fantastic fly fishing on the infamous Madison River, my adventures, being upright and on my feet again, included a trip to the east coast to immerse in the land of Phish tour. So me and a friend drove from Whitefish, Montana, all the way out to New York City in a matter of days to embark on a legendary journey. I absolutely love NYC and I was able to attend another lovely yoga class at my favorite studio, Virayoga in Soho. Everytime I visit NYC I am blown away by the energy of the city. I could have spent the entire month there, but we came to see Phish instead.
Beginning with a three day kickoff, memorial day weekend, in Bethel, NY, the site of the original woodstock, the tour started in glorious fashion. My little brother and I enjoyed the opening weekend together. As well, I was able to connect with lots of great friends whom I had not seen for quite some time. The rest of the tour went something like this: two nights in Holmdel, NJ, then Detroit>Cleveland>Cincinnati, followed by Boston>Darien, NY, and Camden, NJ>two nights in Baltimore, then two nights in Atlanta, Charlotte, Raleigh, and finally Portsmouth. We saw 18 shows in 24 days. We traveled about 15,000 miles total, including the trip to and from the east coast and Montana. We sold Gumbo to help cover costs along the way, as well as water and gatorade. It was a good amount of work, although we stayed mostly in hotels, hanging with friends, meeting new phanners, and loving life on the road. I adore the adventures I shared with people I love, my favorite band, and the travels to new places. I danced like I was the funkiest person there, most of the time I was, with my silver sequined disco ball pants that I wore every night, I was killing it! We had great seats every show, acquired from a good amount of time spent purchasing good tickets as soon as they went on-sale and scoring epic re-releases a week or two before the shows began.
I felt like a kid again, only this time with a touch of maturity and knowledge. It was a time to remember, a joyous journey full of life, love, and happiness. I think back to all of the wonderful people I met, all of the fabulous shows I saw, and the memories which accompany both. I relish the time spent with a darling young lady, from Jersey, who helped re-instill a groove within me that dances with abundance. She ascends to the fondest of memories from the trip, in part to her unique and spontaneous nature. I treasure the moments from this remarkable adventure, truly one of a kind, a unforgettable trip to a place most people barely visit, let alone conceive of.
And here I sit, late at night, contemplating the vast differences between then and now. Without one, I could not experience the other. I am grateful for the opportunity to live both as Andy Blanton. The challenge now is to balance the love and devotion. I mean, the love I have for the food I create is so great that I am willing to sacrifice my physical and mental well being- all for the enjoyment of others. Of course there is a sense of enjoyment within me also, yet it really boils down to other people paying for what I conceive and create. At the same time: how important is this to me now, specifically after the accident, given the fact that I have seen a spectrum of what life can be like when the reality of being is questioned inside the context of a traumatic realm? There is a large part of me that is devoted to my practice of yoga and meditation, something my accident help awaken, the importance of which can not be denied for me at this stage. All of that said, I'm still struggling with love and devotion of each passion and how to integrate the pursuit of the two.
I like that this is where I am, trying to balance what I love with what I love to be devoted to. What a blessed place to be! There is little mystery as to what I want to happen. The mystery lies in the execution. The figuring out has been figured, its a matter of solving an equation now. The laws of the universe are flexible enough to accommodate my minor dilemna. I hope that you may find balance, peace, and harmony with whatever may seem troubling to you in your life. Until next time,
andino
Thursday, June 30, 2011
An Ode to James "the Doc" Leeming
As I begin the begin for this blog entry, I do so in a solemn and sad state of mind. I came home Tuesday night to a painful blow of news from New Orleans. A good friend, a fellow chef, a compassionate and kind human being, James Leeming, passed away Sunday night at the age of 50. He leaves behind his 8 year old son named Kobe (named after the prized Japanese Beef) and his wife Heather. His career spanned a lifetime and included a remarkable spectrum of high end Restaurants. I enjoyed, with great pleasure, working under him at Brigtsen's in 1998. From then on I always made a point to spend time with James whenever I was in NOLA, whether stopping by to see him at Palace Cafe, Dickie Brennan's Steakhouse, or having dinner with him at Dick and Jenny's. It was refreshing to see him in all of these places where he served as Executive Chef. His last Restaurant, Coulis, was his one and only place that he owned. I never saw him happier than when I visited him at Coulis, a breakfast and lunch restaurant, him trading the stress of dinner service with a large staff for a more modest and manageable approach to a game that he knew how to play quite well.
James began as a food runner at Commanders Palace back when Emeril Lagasse was the executive chef. He was a young Nicaraguan who was invited by Emeril himself to join the "other side of the line." It was then his cooking career began and his passion bloomed. James had already cemented his place in the ranks of New Orleans' cooks when I began my tutelage under Frank Brigtsen, with James as Frank's sous chef. I had yet to come across a more caring, thoughtful, and humorous individual. To this day- the words, the phrases, and even the demeanor of James, shines through my memory of him like splintered rays of sunlight into a thick forest of the past; illuminating the moments of laughter, amazement, and encouragement that he was so adept at sharing.
James used an ancient technique of "sabotage" while in the kitchen, particularly if he felt you were not somebody who worked very hard or did not give enough effort on a daily basis. So he would do things like change the oven temperature while you were baking something, or perhaps turn your cream sauce on high, all the while with a chesire like grin. He would even say to me "Watch this, that piece of shit over there never works hard enough, always cutting corners, I can't stand that dude." He would then crank the heat up on this person's sauce, wait a minute or two, and appropriately question the individual by saying "Hey, dude, what is up with your sauce?" Meanwhile the sauce would be burning, the person would be furious, and James would simply say "You need to watch your sauce better. We don't pay you to keep messing up." This was just one instance in a long line of "sabotage" moves that I witnessed, a classic and candid approach to motivating slackers in an otherwise hard working environment. And being from Nicaragua, he would have this thick accent with whatever he said, usually causing humor to anyone who was listening, considering he was almost always having fun with what he was doing. Of course I never got sabotaged, for I was what James might call a "roller" or somebody who "had it". In fact my greatest compliment, to this day, came from James as I was working at Brigtsen's. We went out for a beer after a busy night of work one night and he looked me in the eye and said "Dude, you got it. There are very few people in this industry that have it. You are an all-star, and you will go really far in this business. Frank said it too, he sees it in you also, you have the gift."
He received his name as "the Doc", from what I understand, as someone who could always fix something. If a sauce needed healing, or a soup needed fixing, he was the guy to make it happen. I loved how as we were beginning to run out of a sauce, in the heat of the moment, deep in service, he'd get this look on his face and he'd simply say "I got it." The next thing I would know, he'd hand me the sauce back and say "Dude, I just stretched that shit. You gotta stretch it, bro. That's the way you do it. You never run out, you always just stretch it and make it work." His favorite word to use, especially in an intense moment, was "phenomenal". This term could be used to describe everything from a dish, to an order, a move, a plate, or even a smile. He would often put something down, such as a 1/6th pan of sauce, then look at you with this incredibly serious look and say "Whatever you do, don't spill this, its like gold. Actually, it is gold!" Or another favorite phrase might be "Your gonna send us down the pipes with that shit. Please don't send us down the pipes, just get it together, stretch it if you have to, and make it happen."
For those unfamiliar with this industry, "stretching it" refers to prolonging the use of a sauce by adding more liquid, or ingredients to the sauce, just to make it "appear" as it should be. Despite the fact that one may be diluting the flavor of the sauce, it was done to "keep things rolling" and to keep the head chef from getting pissed at you for not having enough prep. It was a bit of a gamble, in a certain sense, for now it could be the guest who called you out on the sauce. But, somehow, the guest never did. For the record, I only employ this technique when it is absolutely critical and there is no other option, probably once or twice a year. There are line cooks all over the world who do this nightly, and its our jobs as chefs to prevent cooks from doing so. James encouraged it at times, however, and was a master at stretching it. "Sending us down the pipes" referred to an instance where something might happen, such as the unforgivable mistake of knocking a full pan of sauce over, thereby changing the entire course of the evening and effectively flushing the kitchen staff down the toilet- hence the term "sending us down the pipes." Sometimes this would refer to a weak link in the kitchen, somebody that could not hold their own and would inevitably fall behind, bringing the whole flow of the kitchen down.
James may have not been the most talented of cooks there ever was, nor was he the most creative. What he was though, was rare, unique, and special, truly one of a kind. A bright, warm, compelling, and soulful person, he could light up a room instantly just by opening his mouth. His laughter was as contagious as a yawn in a library; one could not help but join in on the fun whenever "the Doc" was around. From the music of Jazzfest, or the parades during Mardi Gras, the countless nights in the kitchen, no matter what he was always so much fun to be around. I bid farewell to another legend, one who taught me so much, RIP dear brother.
In closing, yet another culinary mentor has moved on in this journey. Jamie Shannon, former Executive Chef at Commanders Palace, one of the most influential teachers in my life. Then Ethan, a Sous Chef at Commanders, who was as cool as a cucumber and as sharp as a razor blade. And now James.. Not to mention the handful of cooks, dishwashers, or others who I have sweated and bled with over the years, all who are no longer alive. I guess its all a part of life, specifically getting older, those that you love will all die too. I mean I know its a given and all, but it seems to come so unexpectedly. I can think of better ways for the spiritual alarm clock to ring in a reminder that life is short and precious, to be grateful for what you have, and to appreciate the moments as they are.
And I certainly can appreciate what other people mean in my life, while they are still with us. I'm thankful for all the cherished moments, etched in memory, that I have of James. That is something that will never die, at least as long as I'm here. Long live James Leeming.
Article from NOLA.com
Brigtsen's benefit for James
Friday, May 6, 2011
These boots were made for walkin'
Yes indeed. These boots were made for walking. I've got a fine pair of Lucchese boots, from the 1883 series, that are as spectacular as they are comfortable. And they have been walking! Nearly three weeks since the accident and I am on my feet again, walking as I once did before I skied into a tree. How grateful I am for the opportunity to be doing something so simple as walking. This action takes me back to my days as a toddler, when I stood up and began this motion for the first time. While I can't quite recall the exact feeling from those early days, I can accurately portray what went through my body and mind when I took my first few steps on Wednesday.
When I heard the words uttered from the doctors mouth on Wednesday morning, I wanted to jump up and hug him for allowing me to begin walking. The handshake and the smile sufficed, needless to say I was elated with the news. I waited until I returned to the comfort of my home, to give it a try, a place that nurtured me throughout my recovery. The first few steps were very similar to the feeling one might have stepping onto solid ground after being on a boat for an extended period of time, such as a week or two. I felt dizzy and ecstatic at the same time. My body remembered how to walk fairly easily, although not without a uneven step and a significant limp. I didn't care one bit about my style as the sensation of walking was absolutely thrilling! All of these progressions I have been experiencing lately are adding to my already heightened sense of being. I am returning to a place of wholeness through my dedication towards healing. What a glorious place to be living life from, especially as I now begin to feel complete.
Being able to walk once again has opened up even more avenues of things and activities that I can do. The crutches were such a huge step up from being in the wheelchair. Now that my arms are free to carry things, its like I am reaching a magnificent pinnacle of healing. Just today I cleaned out my car, walking back and forth like a normal person might do, such a simple yet rewarding task to be able to execute. There are other monumental achievements, although I figured the car cleaning would get the first honorable mention.
My hips are a little sore, no doubt about it, as are my muscles that have not been used for 2 months and 3 weeks. I'm still honoring my body and taking the recovery process very slow, with patience and humility. My pace while walking can be described as gingerly and cautious, with a touch of hesitancy. I doubt that will last long, though, as my confidence builds so does my desire to strengthen my legs and return to a familiar cadence. I'm content, for now, to slowly ease back into the simple idea of taking things one step at a time.
Today was the first day I embarked on a journey on the lake. Walking down the 180 plus stairs to get to the dock, with crutches, and a kayak paddle in hand, was as cumbersome as it was invigorating. The evening sunlight was beaming brilliant strokes of color; like a masterpiece painted on the canvas of life, the art of the moment was beckoning for me to play my part in the picture. The lake was quiet with a still reflection of the surrounding mountains. As the clouds partially obscured the sublime color of the sunset, a blessed feeling drenched my core. I found myself paddling in the kayak once again with sheer exuberance and total delight. The way the water ripples the surface of the reflection is a pleasure to witness, as well as create, the tiny waves that move with unbounded grace. The entire experience was absolutely phenomenal. The feeling is on the verge of indescribable, the closest I can come to translating it is true love.
And this love is growing like a golden light that glows on the mountain tops at sunset, essentially illuminating everything it comes into contact with. Its hard not to notice the marvelous effect this light has on all that it touches. This light of love is as pure as it is golden, nourishing life and re-enforcing purpose. Its our smiles that salute the presence of such wonderful energy. To be immersed in this heavenly light is to know what it means to enjoy the moment and value it for all that it is worth. The light will occasionally call us from the depths of routine to break up old patterns, habits, and ways of living life, reminding us that treasures are available to us in each and every moment. Sometimes it takes a brush of beauty for us to recognize the sheer magnificence of this permeating love.
And so it goes with an evening kayak paddle on a mirror of life, in the form of water, reflecting the meaning of intention, exemplifying the harmony of being. The upcoming week will be full of productivity in the cooking realm, so a healthy dose of what it all means is always both welcome and refreshing. I'll be traveling to Billings, MT, for a food and wine festival. I'll be competing in an Iron Chef competition, as well as performing a four-course cooking class for a bunch of participants. Should be fun, as well as challenging, since I'll likely be shifting between crutches and walking. I'll have some help coming with me, how much I'll be able to produce remains to be seen. I
The week will include some fly fishing too! Between walking, kayaking, and fly fishing, I feel as if my the puzzle of my life is being put together. With the support and guidance of love, the pieces seemingly fall in place naturally. I'll be returning to Polson this Sunday for the three hour Anusara class and this time I'll be on my mat ready to practice asana like I've yet to be able to, with vigor and grace. Last Sunday I attended an amazing event at the Walking Lightly Ranch, a yoga class followed by a community dinner. What a sensational property and gorgeous setting, not to mention a fantastic idea, to incorporate an auspicious occasion. The meals, all vegan and mostly raw, are prepared by one of the most beautiful women I've ever seen, let alone spent time with. Depending on my energy level and the strength of my body, I hope to attend this Sunday also and immerse in this occasion again.
It'll take more than my fancy boots to keep me upright, with all of that yoga, as we'll be departing for Billings early Monday morning. Whatever happens, I'll be starting the journey of 1,000 miles with one single step. I hope you are right there with me. I love you all! Many thanks, as always, for reading. It brings joy to my heart and a tear to my eye to be able to share my experience, my ongoing recovery, and my life with you.
Namaste...
When I heard the words uttered from the doctors mouth on Wednesday morning, I wanted to jump up and hug him for allowing me to begin walking. The handshake and the smile sufficed, needless to say I was elated with the news. I waited until I returned to the comfort of my home, to give it a try, a place that nurtured me throughout my recovery. The first few steps were very similar to the feeling one might have stepping onto solid ground after being on a boat for an extended period of time, such as a week or two. I felt dizzy and ecstatic at the same time. My body remembered how to walk fairly easily, although not without a uneven step and a significant limp. I didn't care one bit about my style as the sensation of walking was absolutely thrilling! All of these progressions I have been experiencing lately are adding to my already heightened sense of being. I am returning to a place of wholeness through my dedication towards healing. What a glorious place to be living life from, especially as I now begin to feel complete.
Being able to walk once again has opened up even more avenues of things and activities that I can do. The crutches were such a huge step up from being in the wheelchair. Now that my arms are free to carry things, its like I am reaching a magnificent pinnacle of healing. Just today I cleaned out my car, walking back and forth like a normal person might do, such a simple yet rewarding task to be able to execute. There are other monumental achievements, although I figured the car cleaning would get the first honorable mention.
My hips are a little sore, no doubt about it, as are my muscles that have not been used for 2 months and 3 weeks. I'm still honoring my body and taking the recovery process very slow, with patience and humility. My pace while walking can be described as gingerly and cautious, with a touch of hesitancy. I doubt that will last long, though, as my confidence builds so does my desire to strengthen my legs and return to a familiar cadence. I'm content, for now, to slowly ease back into the simple idea of taking things one step at a time.
Today was the first day I embarked on a journey on the lake. Walking down the 180 plus stairs to get to the dock, with crutches, and a kayak paddle in hand, was as cumbersome as it was invigorating. The evening sunlight was beaming brilliant strokes of color; like a masterpiece painted on the canvas of life, the art of the moment was beckoning for me to play my part in the picture. The lake was quiet with a still reflection of the surrounding mountains. As the clouds partially obscured the sublime color of the sunset, a blessed feeling drenched my core. I found myself paddling in the kayak once again with sheer exuberance and total delight. The way the water ripples the surface of the reflection is a pleasure to witness, as well as create, the tiny waves that move with unbounded grace. The entire experience was absolutely phenomenal. The feeling is on the verge of indescribable, the closest I can come to translating it is true love.
And this love is growing like a golden light that glows on the mountain tops at sunset, essentially illuminating everything it comes into contact with. Its hard not to notice the marvelous effect this light has on all that it touches. This light of love is as pure as it is golden, nourishing life and re-enforcing purpose. Its our smiles that salute the presence of such wonderful energy. To be immersed in this heavenly light is to know what it means to enjoy the moment and value it for all that it is worth. The light will occasionally call us from the depths of routine to break up old patterns, habits, and ways of living life, reminding us that treasures are available to us in each and every moment. Sometimes it takes a brush of beauty for us to recognize the sheer magnificence of this permeating love.
And so it goes with an evening kayak paddle on a mirror of life, in the form of water, reflecting the meaning of intention, exemplifying the harmony of being. The upcoming week will be full of productivity in the cooking realm, so a healthy dose of what it all means is always both welcome and refreshing. I'll be traveling to Billings, MT, for a food and wine festival. I'll be competing in an Iron Chef competition, as well as performing a four-course cooking class for a bunch of participants. Should be fun, as well as challenging, since I'll likely be shifting between crutches and walking. I'll have some help coming with me, how much I'll be able to produce remains to be seen. I
The week will include some fly fishing too! Between walking, kayaking, and fly fishing, I feel as if my the puzzle of my life is being put together. With the support and guidance of love, the pieces seemingly fall in place naturally. I'll be returning to Polson this Sunday for the three hour Anusara class and this time I'll be on my mat ready to practice asana like I've yet to be able to, with vigor and grace. Last Sunday I attended an amazing event at the Walking Lightly Ranch, a yoga class followed by a community dinner. What a sensational property and gorgeous setting, not to mention a fantastic idea, to incorporate an auspicious occasion. The meals, all vegan and mostly raw, are prepared by one of the most beautiful women I've ever seen, let alone spent time with. Depending on my energy level and the strength of my body, I hope to attend this Sunday also and immerse in this occasion again.
It'll take more than my fancy boots to keep me upright, with all of that yoga, as we'll be departing for Billings early Monday morning. Whatever happens, I'll be starting the journey of 1,000 miles with one single step. I hope you are right there with me. I love you all! Many thanks, as always, for reading. It brings joy to my heart and a tear to my eye to be able to share my experience, my ongoing recovery, and my life with you.
Namaste...
Saturday, April 30, 2011
Do you know what it means, to miss New Orleans?
Happy Jazzfest ya'll!
Its hard to say these words, let alone think them, and not be there in person for the actual festival. My world practically revolves around this magical occasion. What is Jazzfest you might ask? pfffttt ;)
Allow me to elaborate. The New Orleans Jazz and Heritage festival, otherwise known as Jazzfest, is perhaps the greatest festival on the planet. If you can show me another festival that has the food, the music, the people, the arts, the vibe, and the spirit of Jazzfest, I would be forever indebted to your graciousness. This year marks the second time, since 1996, that I will not be attending the beloved festival. It brings tears to my eyes to not be present for such a beautiful occasion.
The first time I missed this festival was two years ago, due to a departing relationship with my then girlfriend- the irony being I stayed in Montana to help support our relationship, only to watch it dissolve. The reason I am missing it this year is obvious, as my physical condition is not necessarily conducive to "festing". I see both of these reasons to miss the Festival as completely validated by the transformational opportunity that each one provided to enhance my life experience. Both are essential to shaping who I am today.
The first day of Jazzfest is always my favorite day as everyone is beaming with happiness, the energy of the festival so alive, pulsing with a spirited vibration. There are eleven different stages of various genres of music, three of them are tents featuring only Blues, Gospel, and Jazz. The other eight stages make up a plethora of musical tastes, including Funk, Zydeco, Pop, Reggae, Hip-Hop, Rock, Latin, Dixie, just to name a few. The golden rule of Jazzfest is- if you do not love what you are hearing then move to the next stage, because there is always something mind blowing going on. Usually its not so much about what you saw, its about what you had to miss to see what you saw.
People of all colors, all sizes, all ages, and all walks of life find their way to a colorful festival that is sure to please even the grumpiest of folks. The sense of community is overwhelming, especially considering 90,000 people can spend the day together dancing, celebrating, and enjoying the gift of life through music, food, and art. I urge you all to make plans to attend this magnificent festival in your lifetime.
I could write for days about the beauty of the festival, so I'll leave it at what has already been spoken. If you wish to tune in to the magic of Jazzfest, check out this link: http://www.wwoz.org/programs/live+events/112141+new+orleans+jazz+and+heritage+festival (click on Listen Now tab in the upper left hand corner of the page). WWOZ, the name of the radio station, will be broadcasting live all weekend. Jazzfest happens over two weekends, so tune in, turn up your volume, and get down! If you want to see/hear some late night action, look no further than Tipitinas for live webcasts! http://www.tipitinas.com/content/webcast/
Speaking of getting down, I practiced some yoga tonight. And I did my first down dog!! I have been dreaming about this day for months now. Even as I type these words, I am overwhelmed with joy! I actually rolled over, completely ecstatic, laughing uncontrollably and letting out sounds I can't even begin to describe. The closest I can identify these sounds with are the exact opposite sounds that I moaned immediately after smacking the tree. In other words these sounds were tones of delight, bliss, and splendor. I am so grateful for everything in my life; actually I am drenched with gratitude, like a frog swimming in a pond, and this blog is my lily pad.
I feel as if I have a new body when practicing yoga. I'm not doing anything strenuous or invigorating, so to speak, gentle and restorative poses still dominate my sequence. But throwing in a few cobras, headstands, and down dogs, makes me feel challenged, alive, and healed, respectively. My sense of atonement with what is taking place in my body while practicing asanas is completely profound. I can feel the subtle changes and shifts that I used to only be able to imagine. Alignment is a subject that I not only understand, but envision in each and every pose. This gift of awareness feels like a present straight from the heavens, though its been wrapped and delivered by all of the wonderful yoga teachers in my life. I bow to both with tremendous gratitude and appreciation.
Last weekend I attended a Reiki Level One course. So I am now certified to practice Reiki, mostly on myself, an ancient healing practice working with the intelligence of the body and the energy of life. I am excited to take this new understanding to deeper levels, so I'll ideally be working towards a Level Two course in the near future. I'm still amazed at the amount of talented healers, seekers, and wisdom in this corner of NW Montana. We are all so blessed to be surrounded by incredibly beauty and to live in such a powerful community. It's all happening!
Yeah, I just quoted "Almost Famous". I'll leave you with another quote from that hilarious film, another favorite of mine: "Be bold and mighty forces will come to your aid." Keep that in mind as you go throughout your life. It certainly has worked for me. Happy Jazzfest ya'll!
Its hard to say these words, let alone think them, and not be there in person for the actual festival. My world practically revolves around this magical occasion. What is Jazzfest you might ask? pfffttt ;)
Allow me to elaborate. The New Orleans Jazz and Heritage festival, otherwise known as Jazzfest, is perhaps the greatest festival on the planet. If you can show me another festival that has the food, the music, the people, the arts, the vibe, and the spirit of Jazzfest, I would be forever indebted to your graciousness. This year marks the second time, since 1996, that I will not be attending the beloved festival. It brings tears to my eyes to not be present for such a beautiful occasion.
The first time I missed this festival was two years ago, due to a departing relationship with my then girlfriend- the irony being I stayed in Montana to help support our relationship, only to watch it dissolve. The reason I am missing it this year is obvious, as my physical condition is not necessarily conducive to "festing". I see both of these reasons to miss the Festival as completely validated by the transformational opportunity that each one provided to enhance my life experience. Both are essential to shaping who I am today.
The first day of Jazzfest is always my favorite day as everyone is beaming with happiness, the energy of the festival so alive, pulsing with a spirited vibration. There are eleven different stages of various genres of music, three of them are tents featuring only Blues, Gospel, and Jazz. The other eight stages make up a plethora of musical tastes, including Funk, Zydeco, Pop, Reggae, Hip-Hop, Rock, Latin, Dixie, just to name a few. The golden rule of Jazzfest is- if you do not love what you are hearing then move to the next stage, because there is always something mind blowing going on. Usually its not so much about what you saw, its about what you had to miss to see what you saw.
People of all colors, all sizes, all ages, and all walks of life find their way to a colorful festival that is sure to please even the grumpiest of folks. The sense of community is overwhelming, especially considering 90,000 people can spend the day together dancing, celebrating, and enjoying the gift of life through music, food, and art. I urge you all to make plans to attend this magnificent festival in your lifetime.
I could write for days about the beauty of the festival, so I'll leave it at what has already been spoken. If you wish to tune in to the magic of Jazzfest, check out this link: http://www.wwoz.org/programs/live+events/112141+new+orleans+jazz+and+heritage+festival (click on Listen Now tab in the upper left hand corner of the page). WWOZ, the name of the radio station, will be broadcasting live all weekend. Jazzfest happens over two weekends, so tune in, turn up your volume, and get down! If you want to see/hear some late night action, look no further than Tipitinas for live webcasts! http://www.tipitinas.com/content/webcast/
Speaking of getting down, I practiced some yoga tonight. And I did my first down dog!! I have been dreaming about this day for months now. Even as I type these words, I am overwhelmed with joy! I actually rolled over, completely ecstatic, laughing uncontrollably and letting out sounds I can't even begin to describe. The closest I can identify these sounds with are the exact opposite sounds that I moaned immediately after smacking the tree. In other words these sounds were tones of delight, bliss, and splendor. I am so grateful for everything in my life; actually I am drenched with gratitude, like a frog swimming in a pond, and this blog is my lily pad.
I feel as if I have a new body when practicing yoga. I'm not doing anything strenuous or invigorating, so to speak, gentle and restorative poses still dominate my sequence. But throwing in a few cobras, headstands, and down dogs, makes me feel challenged, alive, and healed, respectively. My sense of atonement with what is taking place in my body while practicing asanas is completely profound. I can feel the subtle changes and shifts that I used to only be able to imagine. Alignment is a subject that I not only understand, but envision in each and every pose. This gift of awareness feels like a present straight from the heavens, though its been wrapped and delivered by all of the wonderful yoga teachers in my life. I bow to both with tremendous gratitude and appreciation.
Last weekend I attended a Reiki Level One course. So I am now certified to practice Reiki, mostly on myself, an ancient healing practice working with the intelligence of the body and the energy of life. I am excited to take this new understanding to deeper levels, so I'll ideally be working towards a Level Two course in the near future. I'm still amazed at the amount of talented healers, seekers, and wisdom in this corner of NW Montana. We are all so blessed to be surrounded by incredibly beauty and to live in such a powerful community. It's all happening!
Yeah, I just quoted "Almost Famous". I'll leave you with another quote from that hilarious film, another favorite of mine: "Be bold and mighty forces will come to your aid." Keep that in mind as you go throughout your life. It certainly has worked for me. Happy Jazzfest ya'll!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)