Spicy Basil Eggplant with Chicken

It's been awhile since I've posted anything, but I have a few stories brewing between my sulci and gyri...

Thai food is near and dear to my heart. My most memorable meal ever in life was the coconut curried crab I devoured at a Thai restaurant in Kuala Lumpur. The place would have received every USDA Food Safety and Inspection citation known to man but to me, it will always be perfect.

In honor of that experience, I have experimented with a few Thai dishes. Last night, I prepared Spicy Basil Eggplant with Chicken, which made stomaching the Eagles poor showing somewhat tolerable. Bon Appetit.

Lamb duo

Lamb duo

In 1996, I eliminated red meat from of my diet. Since then, my father's dry rubbed pork ribs would call my name. A few years ago, I finally took a bite of the forbidden fruit and haven't repented since. Like Chik-fil-A and Michael Pollan, I'm still on the anti-cow campaign. But, I have recently rekindled my love affair with lamb .

In preparation of Irene, I marinated a butterflied leg of lamb in mixture of harissa, minced garlic, EVOO, rosemary, ground pepper, cinnamon, sea salt, and balsamic vinegar for two days. Then, I seared both sides and roasted the lamb in the oven with the remaining marinade. Once the meat was done, I reduced the jus to make a spicy yet savory sauce that would make a sous chef proud.



The finished product was: 1) roasted lamb with truffle garlic mashed potatoes, and broccoli and 2) roasted lamb sandwich w spinach and heirloom tomatoes





Enjoy!!

For those paying attention, I have included a score at the end of a few of my posts. I think iPods, iPhones, and other mp3 devices have led to pseudo-social isolation in public settings (e.g., playing Words with Friends instead of greeting the person sitting next to you). However, the perfect playlist can be the ideal accompaniment to the daily trek. This past weekend, I flew down to ATL for a mini-reunion of sorts with a few of my ALRP brethren. Although none of us does anything remotely close to programming, I think our deceased mentor would be proud of our accomplishments to date. In addition, I celebrated another birthday. While sitting at the bar waiting for my flight’s departure, I put together the following list of songs. Enjoy!!

PLAYLIST PART UNO

1. Parents (Interlude) – Gil Scott Heron

2. Don't Let Me Be Misunderstood – Nina Simone

3. Thistle and Weeds – Mumford and Sons

4. Everything I Am – Kanye West

5. God Made Man – Young the Giant

6. Sunlight – Tabi Bonney

7. The Wilhelm Scream – James Blake

8. The Race – Wiz Khalifa

9. Money Machine – Curren$y

10. Late – Kanye West

11. Who Will Survive in America – Gil Scott Heron/Kanye West

12. As Small As A Giant – Big K.R.I.T.

13. The Newspaper – Citizen Cope

14. Awake My Soul – Mumford and Sons

15. Success Is My Cologne – Curren$y

16. My Life – Talib Kweli

17. Being Blessed – Gil Scott Heron

Blue Moon What?

A record heat wave made me wonder if fracking created a man-made entrance to hell. Scavenging the terrain for some relief in attempt to prevent another heat stroke circa summer 2010, I did my best to stay hydrated. For craft beer enthusiasts, look no further than your local Trader Joe's, home of the infamous '"two buck Chuck." With subtle hints of citrus, banana, bubble gum, and clove, this Bavarian Hefeweizen is perfect for cooling off on a hot summer day. It's on my top 10 craft beer list. And what's even better, it's only $5.99.

Beats, Rhymes, and Life: The Travels of a Tribe Called Quest

DISCLAIMER: THIS POST IS NOT A THOROUGH REVIEW OF THE FILM BECAUSE I HOPE THAT YOU ALL VENTURE OUT TO SEE IT AND FORM YOUR OWN OPINION.

Sunday evening was the first time, in awhile, that I had a chance to just sit back and relax. My exam to determine if I mastered the art of performing human voodoo (trigger point dry needling) was complete, it was still Hades hot outside, and the documentary about the group from which my blog was inspired opened this weekend. With an extra shot caramel latte (nope, not from Fourbucks) and Swedish fish in tow, I settled into my seat at E Street Cinema to check out “Beats, Rhymes, and Life: The Travels of a Tribe Called Quest (BRL)” directed by Michael Rapaport better known as Remy from Higher Learning.

In short, I thought the documentary was fantastic. Blessed with talent, two members with relentless work ethic, an infatuation with music, and being in the right place to capitalize on opportunity, A Tribe Called Quest was born. Nodding my head to film’s score, the audience has a bird’s eye view into the intricacies of the legendary hip hop trio/quartet. Q-Tip, Phife Dawg, Ali Shaheed Muhammad, and Jarobi recount their perspective of the rise and fall of the group. Their instinctive travels and the paths of rhythm through the low end theory served as a catalyst to becoming a melodic fraternity comprised of the good, bad, and ugly. We also witness the self-proclaimed “Funky Diabetic’s” personal battle with the juvenile form of the disease and his addiction to high fructose corn syrup. BRL provides an emotional rollercoaster of love, hate, camaraderie, solitude, bitterness, jealousy, and loyalty. Unless you were a true hip-hip head, most people thought that Ali Shaheed Muhammad was the brainchild behind most of ATCQ's beats. In reality, it was Q-Tip’s realization that the sum was greater the parts that deceived mainstream. Having three brothers and eight line brothers, I firmly understand this concept.

I was first exposed to hip-hop from my cousin and older brothers. When I would visit my grandparents’ house, my cousin would always play tapes in his boom box. On the drive home, I’d ask my dad if he would buy me a tape. But, he refused based on the subject matter of the songs. So I did what any determined kid would do, I stole Breaking Atoms by Main Source from my cousin. To give you a bit of hip hop history, this album was the official introduction of Nasir Jones to the world. I listened to that album on my Walkman until I memorized every word and had to rewind the cassette with a pencil. As a kid who did well in school, the Large Professor’s (who has a cameo in BRL) lyrics in “Watch Roger Do His Thing” spoke directly to me. Over the years, groups that went against grain like A Tribe Called Quest inspired me to continue to do the same thing. In addition, my dad lightened his grasp a bit. Our agreement was that I had to listen to my tapes with him once. Sounds easy, right? Well, try listening to Big Daddy Kane’s “Pimpin’ Ain’t Easy” on the ride to your biddy league basketball game with your father and uncle in the car. They analyzed that song like they were working for the FCC. As a connoisseur of good music, the suffering was worth it because "my days of payin' dues are over, acknowledge we is in there!"

The Score

Bonita Applebum


Check The Rhime



We Got The Jazz/Buggin' Out



Electric Relaxation





Lyrics To Go

Wild Alaskan Salmon with Mango Salsa, Whole Grain Rice, and Squash

This is the meal I prepared for my dad on Father's Day







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Happy Father's Day

Father’s Day often comes and goes without the same applause that Mother’s Day receives. I do not know if Hallmark is to blame or the fact that fathers do not sell themselves as well as their counterparts. Either way, I am the man I am today because of the man whose name I bear.

Growing up, I had the luxury of being with my father daily. He was usually out of the house before I left for school. He elected to do this so he could be home before I returned from school. On my walk home from the bus stop, I would always see him peering through the window. For many years, I took this for granted because I could not go off and play after school. He saw my first fight from that very same window. And although I was the victor to my neighborhood friends, I became the victim as soon as I entered my house. I did not start the fight but my father made me apologize to my childhood friend. From this experience, I learned that you will go through trials and tribulations with the people closest to you. But don’t let those issues destroy meaningful relationships.

Back to the next lesson…I had to finish my schoolwork before I could go outside and play. Easy, right? Not quite. My dad would check my homework and make me rewrite everything when I made a mistake. My father did not like eraser marks. A product of parochial schooling, neatness was paramount. There are no shortcuts in life. Well, maybe there are but you know what they say about luck. If you give it your all every time, you will be ready when those opportunities present themselves. Like Jay said, "kitchen table, that’s where i honed my skills." It was at that table that I spent countless hours perfecting my penmanship, solving the same math problems three different ways, and doing whatever else was necessary to succeed in the classroom. An education is something that no one can ever take from you. Because of my father’s (and mother’s) persistence, I learned how to study like a machine. With this skill, I have been able to have some academic and professional success.

Whether he rushed from Sunday service or work, I would always see my dad in the stands. And when I didn't see him, I would always hear him yelling at the refs. Over the years, he wore many hats that included coach, fan, cheerleader, trainer, and booster. He stopped shopping at Boyd’s so we would look fly. Instead of hanging out with his friends, he would take us to Sixers, Phillies, and Eagles games. Although I can never repay him, I try to take him to games when I get the opportunity to relive those memories. Recently, I met the man who last brought a NBA championship to Philadelphia, Dr. J. And I shared that with him.

Until I left my parent's house for college, I would go to church with them on Sundays. During those services, my recently deceased pastor would talk about having faith the size of a mustard seed. From those homilies, I researched the meaning of faith according to the Bible. And it developed from God carrying out the actions that he said he would perform. In the Old Testament, people did not just blindly believe (DISCLAIMER: it's just my interpretation). Typically, my dad is a man of few words but he was never deficient when it came to actions. I never wondered if he would be there. I knew that I could rely on him whether I was soaring or falling.

I thank you dad for sacrificing trips with your friends so we could see places outside of our hometown. I thank you for saying no to your friends in favor of games of horse with me. I thank you for sharing your mishaps with me so I do not make the same mistakes. I thank you for the telling me the history of our family. I thank you for teaching me to be a man of my word. I thank you for providing us with things that you were not able to experience as a kid. I thank you for showing us how important family is. I thank you for the words of wisdom that you have given me over the years. I thank you for allowing me to create my own destiny. Most importantly, I simply thank you for being there.

Café Estelle Omelette Remixed

Café Estelle Omelette Remixed

They say imitation is the sincerest form of flattery. Well a few years ago, I started going out to eat and recreating the same recipes at home. Over time, I could discern which spices and herbs were in various dishes. Once that became easy, I started remixing my favorite dishes circa Throwdown with Bobby Flay.

Over the past few weeks, I’ve been able to enjoy some decadent grub at Marcus Samuelsson’s Red Rooster, the Brooklyn hipster hangout,The Farm on Adderley, and the Philadelphia hole in the wall with gourmet pubfare, Good Dog Bar and Restaurant. I should write proper reviews of every establishment but take my word that they are all officially Beets, Rhymes, and Life (BRL) certified.

Awhile back, I also posted my first restaurant review and I decided to make my version of the Café Estelle Omelette. A lover of vegetables, I sauteed jalapeños, mushrooms, black peppered turkey bacon with black truffle oil and my special concoction of herbs and spices.

Then, I added the egg batter, spinach, apple butter, and goat cheese. To complete my interpretation, I topped the omelette with a little sriracha.

The sweetness from the apple butter blended well with the spiciness of jalapeño and sriracha. The goat cheese was cool, creamy, yet subtle enough to tone down the heat from the peppers. I’ve had a love affair with truffle oil and put it on every vegetable to add a bit of earthiness. All in all, I think my remixed omelette was better than the original.

The Score

Eat to Live – Talib Kweli

Drinks on Me

I have been extremely busy living life. As a result, I have not been able to post anything for a minute. I have two partially completed entries that I will post soon. So to pass time, I decided to share a poem that I wrote more than a decade ago. Enjoy!!
------

Drinks on Me

dim lights, loud music, the smell of cigars in the air
i blend in like the elements of the atmosphere
in the clouds of darkness, suddenly the sun appears
as she walks by, all around her ceases
naturally, I stop, I stare
college student caught in the midst of washington, dc
dont worry because tonight the drinks on me
conversation flows like the rain outside
as i sip on her intellect, my mental opens wide
off the aroma her soul manifests
the satisfaction of my indulgence results in my desire to rest
not fatigue, more so the rest of my life
not wifey, but truly a potential wife
my blood continually rises to the highest elevation
every moment that elapses is a precursor to creation
the rebirth of life in the present
caught by the rapture of her essence
glass half full or half empty?
dont worry ‘cause the next drinks on me
as the end of the night draws closer
i set my glass down on the wooden coaster
grabbed her hand and whispered in her ear
"wherever you want to go, i'll take you there
when you are afraid, i will protect you from your fears
when you seek comfort, i will be there
when you look around the corner, i will be near
for the man of your dreams has magically appeared."
as we approached her final destination, i said goodnight respectfully
anything else, the drinks on me, literally

Happy Mother's Day

As I head back to the District from my parent’s house, it’s ironic that I first parted ways with my mother on a Sunday evening over 30 plus years ago. Over the years, I drifted a bit but always knew I could return home to a place void of the wicked ways of the world. “People never get the flowers while they can still smell them." So, I pay homage to my mother.

On this day, I want to thank her for all that she sacrificed. Although I grew up in a different world, she made sure we knew the origin of our family firsthand. No matter how much I achieve, I will never forget where we come from. I thank her for showing me that there is a world that exists beyond the borders of our small town. I thank her for forcing me to participate in the cotillion and other activities that were outside of my comfort zone. Although I still have two left feet, it is because of her that “I can walk with kings and queens yet not lose the common touch.” Although it is a rarity that I attend service now (will save that conversation for another day), I thank her for raising me in a church. It provided positive reinforcement for all of her lessons on ethics and morality.

She loved and nurtured us but also instilled a level of fear that kept us from straying too far off the beaten path. She pushed me from her womb down snow-capped mountains. When I fell, she always pulled me up to mend my wounds. And when I was afraid to risk failing again, she pushed me. I’ll never be able to repay my debt but I hope that she knows how much I think of her in all that I do. Thank you, mom!!

Café Estelle

After a night out in Philadelphia, one of my closest friends and fellow foodie persuaded me to join her for brunch at a spot in Northern Liberties. Nested inside the lobby of the 444 Lofts on North 4^th Street is the gem, Café Estelle.

Lucky for us, we beat the Sunday morning rush and were seated right away. After scanning the above menu, I narrowed my choices to one of the omelets or the frittata. When in doubt, I always defer to the server. Our waitress expressed that Café Estelle was known for their omelets. As a result, I ordered the omelet with cauliflower, apple butter, and smoked cheddar. In the interim, we sipped some freshly roasted java and conversed about our strategies for world domination.

Our food arrived in a timely manner. The egg was light and fluffy. The flavor was savory yet sweet. The chemical interaction of the apple butter with the herbs appealed to most of my taste buds. Yet, something was missing. When I concoct culinary dishes, I tend to have a heavy hand with the heat. So, I summoned the server to bring me a bottle of Sriracha. It was the perfect accompaniment to achieve sensory harmony. The amateur chef in me would have subbed smoked gouda or mozzarella for the cheddar as well.

Considering everything, I was more than pleased. The food and service were great. And after paying the bill, the owner handed us two cups of haute caffeine, also known as fair trade organic coffee, for our walk back.

Café Estelle

444 North 4th Street
Philadelphia, PA 19123-4124
(215) 925-5080

http://www.cafeestelle.com/

The Score
Greg Laswell - What A Day


Cold - Glass Of Water

Paris-Philly Lockdown

From the rock-rap collaboration between Run-DMC and Aerosmith to Miguel Atwood-Ferguson and his 60 piece orchestra’s rendition of hits produced by the late great J. Dilla, hip hop has often been fused with other genres of music. On Sunday, Ahmir “?uestlove” Thompson of the Legendary Roots Crew presented the original work, Paris-Philly Lockdown, at the Kimmel Center’s Verizon Hall. This performance is part of the Philadelphia International Festival of the Arts, which takes place through May 1, 2011.

The inspiration for Paris-Philly Lockdown came from a period early in the Roots’ professional career. En route to Japan for a gig that was later cancelled, the starving artists found themselves stranded in Paris. Anyone who has ever been to the City of Light knows there aren't many places in this world that a musician could receive more inspiration. From the street performers at Sacré-Coeur Basilica to the numerous jazz clubs, walking the streets of Paris can re-energize the most dispirited individual.

I expected the show to be similar to Miguel Atwood-Ferguson's Suite For Ma Dukes (see below) but it was not that by any stretch of the imagination. ?uestlove, Keren Ann, and a host of elite classical musicians performed their interpretation of classical works by Stravinsky, Debussy, Satie and Ravel. I am not a professional music critic; my only claim to classical fame is a course that I was required to take in undergrad to graduate from The Honors Program. With that said, I felt like Paris-Philly Lockdown was the flawless synthesis of classical and jazz with a few bass heavy drum lines intertwined. Simply put, it was stunning.

Following the show, there was an after party in the Perelman Theater. Diversity is not a cultural norm in Philly. While there are a lot of people from various ethnic groups in the city, it is rarity to see everyone partying together. In the middle of the melting pot that simmered in the Kimmel Center, a group of b-boys started the party while DJ AfroDJiak and ?uest spun on the one's and two's. Yes, they were pop lockin' and breakin' in the Kimmel Center!! It must have been surreal for the Philadelphia High School for Creative and Performing Arts alum to perform classical compositions in his hometown at such an illustrious venue. Being a musician, producer, journalist, and DJ, ?uestlove is a modern day renaissance man. And on this night, he brought all segments of Philadelphia together with the beat of a drum.



It sounds cliche but as I travel back to DC, I realize there's no place like home. Although I grew up 20 miles away in South Jersey, Philly helped raised me. From posting up on South Street on hot summer nights to staying after hours in the cadaver lab on North Broad Street, the blue collar energy is infused in my soul. My grandfather spent countless hours cleaning the halls of Drexel University so his children could be awarded a better life through the vehicle we call an education. A few decades later, I received a doctorate from the same university my father graduated from the year I was born. As a child, I never quite understood why my extended family would attend award ceremonies for nursery school graduations but I finally get it. Whether I am in the Kimmel Center listening to classical music arranged by a hip hop drummer, hiking through the rainforests in Colombia, or tasting Hennessey fresh out of oak barrels in Cognac, France, the path that I walk upon has been laid down by my ancestors. My family and friends live through my experiences and vice versa. And although I may walk alone, I am never lonely because within me is the ‘blood of a slave, heart of a king.’

The Score

Address by Curren$y feat Stalley

Miguel Atwood-Ferguson & The Suite for Ma Dukes Orchestra – Untitled/Fantastic

Miguel Atwood-Ferguson & The Suite for Ma Dukes Orchestra – Stakes Is High

Food for Thought

Amos Lee - Jails & Bombs


The Roots featuring Monsters of Folk - Dear God 2.0

Spiced up Burger and Fries

Bonjour!

The past few weeks have been a blur due to some exciting things on the horizon in my professional life. Yet as the demands of the workplace increase, my personal life typically suffers. The time of year when I’m usually glued to the TV watching 65 teams compete to determine who is the best across the land, has been anything but routine. However, I carved out some free time in my schedule to watch the Final Four and indulge in my take on gastropub food.




Burger and Fries anyone? I decided to step things up a notch and make a lamb burger with homemade tzatziki and sweet potato fries tossed with truffle oil. To make the lamb burger, I ground fresh rosemary with cinnamon, nutmeg, curry powder, garlic, black pepper, and chopped onion. While the mixture set, I sautéed mushrooms in white wine with some pepper and apricot preserve. My goal was to balance the wide array of spices in the lamb with the slight sweetness of the white wine and jam. In addition, I made my favorite Greek condiment on the earth, tzatziki!! Using greek yoghurt as the base, I blended parsley, ground dill, fresh mint, diced cucumbers, black pepper, olive oil, garlic, sea salt, red pepper spread, and a little lime juice.




Once I was done, I let it sit in the fridge to allow the herbs and spices to blend. For an appetizer, I prepared a warm spinach salad with candied almonds, chopped onion, and a combination of balsamic vinegar and EVOO.


After the rabbit food, I enjoyed the creamy goat cheese burger on a whole-wheat bun topped with red leaf lettuce and radish. Bon Appétit.

Jay Electronica & MJ

Food for thought!! I'll be back later in the week with a post or two.

All Black Everything

“Back in the days when I was a teenager, before I had status and before I had a pager”, The Fab Five represented everything to any black kid who had hoop dreams. Rockin’ bald heads, black socks and Nikes, baggy shorts, swagger before ‘Ye and Jay, and a game straight from the Rucker, these were kids with whom we could relate and emulate. Last Sunday, ESPN films aired the documentary, “The Fab 5.” It was a well-crafted recount of the former University of Michigan Wolverines rollercoaster ride through Ann Arbor and the rest of the world. During a segment of the show, Jalen Rose discusses his hatred for the Duke University Blue Devils Men’s Basketball team. His disgust stemmed from the belief that Coach K preferred to recruit ‘black players that were ‘Uncle Toms’. Jalen also revealed that he was jealous of Grant Hill’s upbringing because his father was a professional athlete as well. Apparently his comments struck a nerve with the Blue Devil alum. Grant Hill wrote a response in college sports blog section of the New York Times.

Personally, I think Hill takes Rose’s comments out of context. Rose clearly stated that his view was based on the mental state of a green with envy, high school phenom whose NBA dad abandoned him. On the other hand, I am sure this was not the first time Grant has been called an ‘Uncle Tom’ for simply being raised by two college educated parents and playing college basketball at a prestigious academic institution that has a larger percentage of white players than most top programs. His open letter raises a greater question: Is Grant Hill less black than Juwan Howard, Ray Jackson, Jimmy King, Jalen Rose, or Chris Webber?

From his most recent album, Lupe Fiasco’s “All Black Everything” is a visualization of a world void of the Middle Passage. Although the chains have been removed, the wounds remain. We often hear that black people vary in terms of hue. But, rarely does anyone state that we differ in all facets of life. Grant Hill justifies his Ricky Schroeder lifestyle by stating that his grandfather was a day laborer who sacrificed to ensure his father would have a proper education. But, what if Grant Hill came from a lineage of millionaires?

Carlton Banks is just as black as Cousin Will. Affording Will an opportunity that did not exist in Philly was the reason Will’s mom sent him to Bel Air. Even though an Ohio woman was jailed for illegally sending her daughters to a better school district, more people should be doing the same thing. Instead of focusing on our differences, we should encourage growth, prosperity, and success in all aspects of life for all people. Our experiences in life do not define our race, science does. I hope that my future children can have a life similar to Grant Hill. I work too hard for anything less. And if you asked Jalen Rose today, I’m sure he would say the same thing.

Beets, Rhymes, and Life…

Pun intended!! Growing up on the outskirts of Philly, A Tribe Called Quest was one of the first hip-hop groups that was on constant repeat until my tapes broke. With a track record “longer than a DC-20 aircraft” comprised of hits like ‘Electric Relaxation’, ‘Can I Kick It?’, and ‘Check the Rhime’, Tribe represented the perfect merger of soulful beats and meaningful lyrics. Still having an affinity for artists who go against the grain while constructing a quality product, the current state of the music industry has left me anorexic. To satisfy my desire, I turned from 808s to beets and other foods.

The kitchen was where everything meaningful took place in my household. We recounted the events that transpired during our daily trek, discussed current events, learned the latest family gossip, and most importantly, WE ATE!! Like most Philadelphians, we did not always partake in the healthiest options (e.g., soft pretzels, Tastykakes, and cheesesteaks). But I now prescribe the drug exercise to pay the bills. Therefore, my dietary habits have been the product of an educated metamorphosis. Still, healthy is not the equivalent of bland.

So, what’s the point of this blog? Beets, Rhymes, and Life is my open missive about my love of food, music, and the journey that we call life. Welcome!!