Blind Faith

August is going to be a very busy month.

It’s been a bit of a busy time for me in general. I’ve been called to work at a few out of city events, events where people know I can get the job done, and not just believe that I can. The distinction is important to me because it means I can do the job as it was meant to be done, and not have to worry about the positioning and politics of how it may affect my future career. I’ve personally never been much of a resume-builder, and will even intentionally leave things off. But thanks to the ever present American-ness in my friends, including my best friend who probably hasn't ever actually seen the damn thing, it continues to build.

This is great because I don’t think I would otherwise be able to do side events due to my current work and life and financial instability. Well, that’s not completely true. Perhaps unstable wasn’t the correct word. Allow me to attempt to elaborate.

Personally, I’ve been looking to move out of the apartment I’ve been staying at since I decided I was going to stay in the city back in April. Most of you know how I feel about my happiness and sanity being more important than money. And in this case, my happiness is beginning to wane and my sanity definitely beginning to taper, and it continues to do so because San Francisco is one expensive ass city. I’ve already committed to the idea of spending over 2 weeks worth of pay on a one bedroom rental…except it seems that place doesn’t exist for that amount of money.

That’s how much I’m making right now. I can’t afford to live in the city. So I’m grateful for the fact that I have somewhere to live out of suitcases while taking my time to find a place of my own, because I’m not going to move out just for the sake of moving out. I’d like to find a place I can at least feel comfortable in – it will probably be no great home living – but any place I can call mine would be great.

I’ve even gone so far as to complete the First Time Homeowner’s Certification Program for Affordable Housing Units. Which means if I qualify, I could actually buy something that’s being sold under market rate specifically for us folk who don’t quite make enough. Except that the loan officer, despite my flawless financial history and glistening credit report, doesn’t think I’ll qualify because I currently don’t make even 80% of the average median income for San Francisco County. These city workers make themselves quite a yearly income, but because they live in the city, it’s considered just regular. Argh. Drives me crazy.

So I’m still going to attempt to complete the application process for this below market rate unit, so that at least I know the steps involved in the lottery and housing game when it comes down to it. The housing advisor says the steps will still be the same for regular units too, so if I know how to do all this paperwork-banking-housing-filling-out-loan-asking-qualifying nonsense now, I’ll understand it a bit more for later.

Did I mention that I’ve been looking to move out to Oakland? I love Oakland.

Business-wise, we’ve found a place in the city and are looking to sign a lease for it sometime in the kind-of-nearish future. It’s exciting, and scary in the sense that none of us are really getting paid all that great to begin with, and now a lot of that “extra” money is going to go towards making this restaurant happen. Even though we’re looking for investors, and have some already locked in, in the end, it’s still either our money we’re playing with or the added stressful responsibility of playing with other people’s money.

But I like to think I thrive under pressure. Especially when it comes to other people’s money. I think the idea of being responsible of turning some money into more money is an ability that not everyone has control of. Except that I’m too poor (or really, it’s probably more me being too cheap. I keep saying money’s just money, meant to be spent) to actually risk my own. Good thing then that there are people out there who trust me to make it happen, because nothing makes me happier than seeing something I believe in grow.

And I’m still cooking, the most important part. Last month I went out to LA to be part of the Hawai'i Visitors and Convention Bureau's culinary team, to represent Chefs Ed Kenney and Roy Yamaguchi (see pictures here). Here in SF, I’m actually creating food that people are beginning to recognize and enjoy, and the business as a company is definitely growing with me as a part of it. We’re beginning to find our niche, and although currently I’m nothing more than just an employee, I know it wouldn’t be the same if I left tomorrow. Things are finally beginning to feel right. So professionally, things I think are going well. A few people have noticed some of my food experiments on the tumblr account, like the Macaroni and (head)cheese dish that I documented for one of our pop-ups: http://haparamen.tumblr.com/tagged/experimenting. Later this month I’ll be teaching a pickles and kimchi class with Richie for http://www.urbankitchensf.org/

And the Street Food Festival is coming up soon too, the fairy tale start of how I met Hapa Ramen last August. So is the Eat Real Festival in Oakland, where we’ll be participating for the first time, plus I’ll be back as a festival coordinator/volunteer. And then a potential trip out to NYC to again help out with the International Chefs Congress -- but in a much greater capacity. So all of these little baby steps I took last year are beginning to turn into real legit footsteps now. I just have to keep knowing and hoping and believing that it…

Busy, busy!

Cooking for Solutions, Monterey Bay Aquarium
May 20-22, 2011

Ed came back to California as an invited guest of the Monterey Bay Aquarium to be part of their annual sustainable awareness celebration, and asked if I wanted to come down and help him out with the event. Well, duh. Of course I did! It also happened to be during the same weekend as my sister's college graduation, though, so I arranged for a rental car and made the decision to shuttle myself back and forth between Monterey and San Francisco all weekend. I'm glad I did it, but ugh. That's a lot of driving! But worth it, so worth it.

And kind of funny. There's all these chefs just hanging out and kickin' it...and me. Because I went with Ed everywhere, I think it was just assumed I was a chef too. I even went to a few things "outside guests" weren't invited to, and because I was there, when they asked for everyone to get together for the chef photo, well, I had to get up too and go be in the photo. Which really is the haha part, because someone's gonna have to caption that photo, and when they get to me, some poor editorial assistant won't be able to identify me but will probably be too embarrassed to admit not being able to recognize a "famous chef". Tee hee.

For the main culinary gala, Ed was asked to create a dish using Pacific akule, the Hawaiian word for mackerel scad. Because it's pelagic (which means it doesn't just settle in one place), it can populate anywhere, and so there's no worries for it being overeaten or overfished. In most places, it's a fish more commonly used as bait, but that's the whole point of events like this, to educate the public of other possibilities. Click here for a little slideshow of akule escabeche, our dish offering of the night.

University of San Francisco Gradution, May 21, 2011

Middle sister Alisha, diploma holder from the McLaren College Undergraduate School of Business and Professional Studies (with proud family, parents flew in from Hawaii, youngest sister flew in from Spokane, Washington, where she goes to school, and me, resident noodle cooker)

Finance Major, Japanese Minor...yay!

Hapa Ramen in NonStopHonolulu, Hawaii: IRL

Melissa Chang is a social media and foodie extraordinaire from Hawaii introduced to me by fellow Hawaii transplant Chris Kajioka. Chris and I never travelled in the same circles back home because he does what I call "fancy chef" stuff -- stuff that requires waaaay more knowledge and precise technique and skill than I have -- but since we've been here in the city, we've come to make the Ferry Building our hotspot for photo shoots that get sent back home and make it look like we only hang out at the Ferry Building. Not that I mind the hanging out part, it's that I think I'm wearing the same hoodie in every picture. So I guess this message is really for Chris: we need to start bringing our own backdrops on set to change the scenery. I'll be sure to have a few props on hand as well.

Melissa writes a blog called Hawaii: In Real Life, which puts a name and face to twitter handles that have local ties. She wanted to do a video involving Chris and I, but with my usual aversion to the social media thing, I deflected to Richie, our social media luminary and @haparamen author. Here's the video she made during her visit, which is a great inside look and summary of what we're doing right now:

To be somebody and nobody

I know you’ve been waiting for me to post something new, anything new, especially seeing how the year mark came and passed without a peep from me. I didn’t know what to say. I’d anxiously been waiting for that day but didn’t want to consciously force myself to think about writing something deeply profound. Those attempts usually end up being kind of sappy in a glorious Hallmark sort of way.

Instead, I’ll tell you how I feel about right now.

I feel like I've kind of been outed recently. A pretty well connected food blogger from Hawaii visited and let people know who I was. The reaction? People started looking me up. People started googling me. The stats for this site began skyrocketing. Other Hawaii peoples started looking for me. Bay Area peoples started following. She used to be somebody?! Um, yeah. I mean, no. Well, maybe kind of, I guess. I hesitate because I’ve always been kind of conflicted as to how to answer that. I guess I was sort of on the DL and was trying to let my natural abilities speak for themselves. I was looking for where I best fit.

I guess on paper it looks pretty good. I’ve worked for one of the best chefs in Hawai’i. I have experience in commercial baking. I can identify and handle sub-tropical and exotic fruits, and graft any of those trees to make exact replicas of them. I became part of the “Support Local” movement and worked with Ed and Dave, the island’s leading duo in environmental food, farm, and restaurant sustainability. I was even recognized as (gulp) an award-winning chef for one of their restaurants.

But I don’t call myself Chef.

I’ve always been uncomfortable with that title. I don’t think I’ve been doing this long enough to be given that title, and I don’t think I’m experienced enough. Perhaps that’s an old skool way of thinking, even though I haven’t been alive long enough to be considered old skool either. Maybe it’s because I wasn’t professionally trained, or raised in an industry family, or have a culinary degree. Maybe it’s because I still think I’m kind of young. Maybe when I’m 50 I’ll be called, uh, chef? Probably not.

But Hapa Ramen has also given me some prominence. I’ve definitely been more sought out and recognized here in San Francisco more than I ever have anywhere else. It’s funny, I don’t think anyone would’ve known who I was before. Maybe my face, but not my name, and definitely not that I was the one in charge. But recently I’ve been getting more attention (ahem, of all sorts…) here in the Bay Area than I ever have in any other location that I’ve been to in the same amount of time anywhere in the world. People are beginning to notice me, and want to get to know me, and what I’m doing, and who I’m doing. I’m beginning to flourish.

Ed and Dave were just in town for the Pebble Beach Food and Wine Festival and made a stopover to the Hapa Ramen kitchen for a visit. Man, if there’s any more appropriate timing to signify the one year mark in this journey, it would be this visit of my former restaurant folks visiting me in the kitchen of my current restaurant folks. I thought I’d feel a little guilty seeing the people I left for no reason other than that it was time for me to leave the island, but I was stoked to see them, and they looked truly happy to see me.

I wanted to help at the event but our schedules didn’t work out and Ed lamented, telling me that I’m “at my best at these kinds of things, where I break out the jangly earrings and look all girly”. It’s funny, and true. I love big social events like that. Also, San Francisco has me wearing my jangly earrings all the time. I must feel like a girl here.

They talked to Victor and Richie, checked out our projects, talked story, and tried some ramen. It was a great visit, and Dave's parting words as they left the kitchen were, “We’re proud of you, Sue.” I think people can say anything they want about not caring about what other people say, but honestly, hearing those words at that moment meant everything to me. I didn't know that I needed them to love me and where I was now.

So if you’ve been following me for the past year, then you know a lot of what I’ve decided to do is based on me following that feeling, the feeling of knowing, of trying, of it feeling wrong or right. Yes, I would like money, and stability, and a family, and a home, and the freedom to be. But what am I really looking for? I'm looking for the feeling that I belong, and right now, in this time and in this place...I think I do.

Photos: with Richie and Victor of Hapa Ramen; Save the Bay beach cleanup in Berkeley; Housecured guanciale with guanciale lard bread; Aloha Festival in Presidio Park; Senait and Sophia at SFChefs2010; Ed and Dave at town's 5th anniversary in April 2010; Ed and Dave in SF April 2011; You can find me cooking noodles wherever Hapa Ramen is!

Be kind of a food blog, please

“We care about what you’re doing and trying to do,” you the public has said. “We want you to become your better person. But we want to know what you’re cooking these days, too, and whether you’re liking it or not. We want to remember that you still cook.”

I’ve been lucky enough to be involved in some whole animal butchery lately, which I hate to call trendy, since it’s been going on since before the caveman days, but really, has become quite trendy as of late. Nose-to-tail cooking and dining (usually pork and offal related) has become extraordinarily popular, and I won’t lie, even when I’m by myself I feel rather awesome after I’ve deboned a pig’s head, or unmold a particularly successful trotter terrine. None of it is exactly difficult, it’s more knowing what to do with the part and just rather time consuming.

So here we go then. My first fooding post. Piggy and other animal parts related. Some photos included. Oh, but wait. Someone else already beat me documenting the actual butchery of it, because I’m not the most on top of it kind of food blogger. Which is great. I’m just going to refer you over to his site: http://beerandnosh.com/2011/03/pig-breakdown-with-hapa-ramen/

In my defense though, I have taken some pictures of a couple of recent past projects, which we the hapa ramen team have deemed our modus operandi of "not quite traditional". Our current trend is what we like to call Japanese noodles and Italian charcuterie. In the back are a set of jowls curing nicely into guanciale, and that brown block in the front is an entire belly we turned into pancetta.

Next to pork, we deal with chicken the most. I'm a big fan of the livers and gizzards, the neck gets roasted for our soup stock, and the heart gets trashed. I'm not a fan of the heart. Can't quite seem to get it to a place where I'm happy with it, but if you have any suggestions, I'm all (crispy fried) ears. You know I hate throwing it out.

See more pictures of food projects here. If you actually click onto the flickr set, I've included some descriptions of the process used to make or create whatever using that ingredient. See? I am trying.

I never meant to be a cook

I am a first generation American of Asian descent. What that means is that I was supposed to be a doctor or a lawyer. Also admissable although not preferred would be some other very financially successful and stable profession. Preferably business related.

I never wanted to get into cooking, or working in restaurants professionally. It was always something I liked doing, a hobby, an interest, the fun thing you do in your free time, or with your friends. Or for your friends. I never wanted to do it as a job. They say never to do something you love as a job, otherwise you’ll end up hating it. I never wanted to hate cooking. And so I always tell people that I never chose cooking as a profession. It chose me.

I went to “normal” school, not culinary school. I studied Psychology, Anthropology, and Latin American language and literature. I went to a liberal arts college, and without a doubt got myself a liberal arts degree. I went to school to study and get a “real” job after I graduated, so I could go and make “real” money in the “real” world.

My senior year in college though, I began to worry about my lack of job direction. At that point, I knew I wasn't going to be a counselor, psychologist, or social worker. I thought I'd look into the restaurant thing and check out the fine dining place near campus. They weren't hiring at the time, but the chef liked something he saw during our meeting and opened up some dishwashing shifts for me. Soon after, I began to do minor prep work near the dish pit. That morphed into some line work, along with the dish shift after that. It was a tiny kitchen with strict French trained standards, but I really really got to do a lot in there. I eventually and very quickly took over the Sunday brunch chef position, which I think would have given most people an arrogant pride...but I had to dishwash the next evening. Pride smushed.

But I loved it. I loved it. I loved being in a professional kitchen. I loved the pace, and the ticket calling, and the shelves and shelves of ingredients and the cramped spaces and the tetris-like skills required to pack things away or take things out. I was also lucky that the sous chef of this restaurant was female, because as my first restaurant job, I never felt like the underrepresented gender in the kitchen. I never felt like being a girl mattered. I just really liked what I was doing, and I think it showed.

Until I decided to actually cook professionally. Like, for real chefs of real companies, who have real reputations to rely on. All of a sudden, I noticed that I was a girl. But I really really wanted to be in the kitchen. I liked it. I wasn't scared of the boys. And it showed. I think those around me noticed, and you can like me or not like me, but I did my job and did it pretty well. At least I hope I did. When you like what you do and are having fun doing it, sometimes it's just not work anymore. My family may not have approved of the job choice, and my parents definitely still think I should be doing something more financially stable at this point, but no one can tell me I'm not happy doing what I do. This all does really make me happy.

For a minute though, I experienced what it might be like to hate what you do. Hate is a really, really strong word. But I clearly remember the moment, and it kind of scared me. I had never felt this way before. Ever. I might’ve hated plating a really complicated dish, or prepping for yet another holiday banquet, or complained about some whiny customer…but never, ever hated the actual cooking part of it.

And I remember thinking, so this is why so many cooks don’t want to do this. It’s not fun. It’s not creative. It’s not yours. People tell you what to do. People don’t care how long you work. People don’t care how hard you work. You never make enough money. You never get a day off. You never get the credit for anything. You don’t have time for laundry. You try to pick out the most non-smelliest clothes out of the laundry. Wear it again. Go to work again. No one ever remembers your name. No one even knew your name in the first place. You get told to do this, then yelled at for doing that. Or not doing that. Do it again tomorrow. Don’t like it again tomorrow. Hate it again tomorrow.

That’s scary to me. And I’ve felt this way several times recently. And you know it’s not about the money. I’m not afraid of the long hours, or the hard work. I was practically born to be a leader amongst the slaves. I love what I do. You know I do. Or apparently, I usually do.

So I don’t like the way I’m feeling right now. I’m usually at my most natural when I’m cooking and feeding and dealing with food. Your job is not supposed to be your life, but for me (insert violin here), food is my life. I don’t (usually) consider it a job. But I don’t even cook for myself anymore, and these days, I cook even less for my friends. In fact, I don’t even have the time to go over to their houses so that they can cook for me.

I’m not sure what to do. The Professor tells me to back away for a bit until something comes to mind, that while I have the time, to not force anything now and enjoy something else in the meanwhile. Which is probably a good idea. I don’t want to hate what I do. If this is even a glimpse of what it’s like to be manic depressive or bipolar, I hope to never experience either on a diagnostic level. And I hope that I’m always sensitive to those who are, because it’s not a fun ride, and not one you can prevent, either.

I want to be happy doing this. I used to be happy doing this.

Haters Gonna Hate

Anyone who knew me senior year in high school knew that I didn’t really care where I went to college, as long as they gave me enough money to go there. With the possibility of financial aid, scholarships, loans, and Navy ROTC in hand, I applied to schools all over the nation…with one exception. California.

I didn’t even look at colleges in California. At all. Because everyone from Hawaii goes to college in California. I was not everyone. I didn’t want to go to school in another state with a bunch of people from my own state. Kind of goes against every reason why you’re supposed to go to college, right? Get away from the parents, become independent, make new friends, yaddi yaddi yah. That probably wasn’t going to happen at a school with other island folk. Us islanders can be quite clique-y. I decided to hate California.

Well, Sophia ended up at Stanford. Probably about half of my graduating class ended up somewhere in California. I flew out a couple of times to spend holidays or vacations somewhere with friends or to visit family. The first time I visited San Francisco, it was too city for me. The first time I stepped foot on campus in Palo Alto, it was too fake-palm-tree-lined-roads for me. The first time I went to some Hawaii Club function, I was ashamed by the exclusivity it radiated. I hated being in California. Too many Hawaiians.

Well, just goes to show you how close-mindedness nips you right back in the butt. Here I am, ironically, hitting the two month mark in California, kind of living and trying to work. Am I happy here? Well, I’m not unhappy here. I think that’s a start. So many of you want me to want to be here. So I’m trying, I really am. I’ve found people I like working and being with, and I’d go so far as to say they feel the same way about me. I’m giving it a few months to see if this all works out: San Francisco, the ramen business, making new friends, if I can afford to be here, and/or finding a place to live. If this is where I decide to live.

But that’s why I’m giving it a try first. That’s why I’m doing this year the way I’ve been doing it, to be open to the possibility of opportunities that might be waiting for me to show up and take it. I’m not afraid to take that opportunity and let it go if it ends up not working out. At least I tried. I don’t want to regret not having tried. And that’s why I’m still here right now.

I think the question most frequently asked of me right now is “Ramen?” Many of you question the ramen choice. Is this really what I want to be doing the rest of my life? And to that, silly people, comes the typical Buddhist answer – that nothing is forever. The only permanence is impermanence. I believe in that. I’m here because he trusts me enough to create my own side projects and post things on the menu and listens to what I have to say and the things I suggest. We know different things, but cook in almost similar ways. We spark ideas off each other. I’m honest and critical, and when he doesn’t agree, he’s honest right back. We don't really ever argue exactly, but often tend to discuss at length in fairly loud voices. Whereas I’m willing to zing out mildly unfocused, trying out anything semi-plausible (while retaining my characteristic resourcefulness, of course), he knows what he likes and wants and is able to mold an idea into something direct and tangible. I feel both equal and respected. We work well together. That, and you also know I have a smart mouth. I’d never be able to accept and stay stagnant.

Besides, I just want to make good tasting food. I don’t need to be the fanciest chef on the block. I just want you to come with friends, have a good time, and really enjoy what you just ate. I feel that right now, in this place, I might be doing just that. This past Tuesday, I personally fed both Daniel Patterson and René Redzepi at the Ferry Building Farmers’ Market. Plated their bowls, poured their soup, and walked it out to them. Made a little chit chat. From our outdoor ramen tent. Our little outdoor stand. We’re not even a real brick and mortar restaurant yet. But two of the world’s leading chefs stopped by our tent to eat our food in a city where they could eat anything anywhere. And they wanted our ramen. If that’s not doing something right, I don’t know what is.

So yes, I know. It’s just ramen. But if Chef and his buddies want to eat ramen, then that’s what I’m making for them. Food that people just want to eat.