List: My 10 Favorite Dishes in Atlanta

Repeat offenders, dishes I always can count on and frequently go back to:

Buttermilk pancakes at Ria's Bluebird
Midnight Train (chicken & waffles) at Gladys Knight & Ron Winan's
Two Pan Fried Eggs & Grilled Cheese B.L.T. at Corner Cafe
Fried egg sandwich at West Egg Cafe
Shrimp po' boy at Star Provisions
Lamb sandwich at Alon's
Bocado burger stack at Bocado
Fish Tibs at Desta Ethiopian
Rib sandwich at Fat Matt's
Southern fried chicken at The Colonnade

I'm drooling just thinking about these places!

List: My Favorite Dining Experiences in 2011 (Thus Far)

In chronological order:

Low Country Cuisine in Charleston: Hominy Grill, FIG, Husk, and Magnolias

Seafood with a View of the Pitons at Dasheene (Soufriere, Saint Lucia)

Edith's Restaurant & The Office in Cabo San Lucas
Local Hawaiian Fare: Ahi Poke, Saimin & the Loco Moco

El Toro Sandwich at Phil's BBQ (San Diego, CA)

Surfin' California Burrito at Lucha Libre Taco Shop (San Diego, CA) 

The Best Food at a Festival Goes to New Orleans Jazzfest 2011
Mofongo in Miami: Jimmy'z is the Best
Pierre's in Islamorada, Florida Keys: Dinner Comes with a Sunset

El Siboney in Key West: My Favorite Cuban Place is 90 Miles from Havana
Empanadas del Parque: The Best Empanadas Ever (New York, NY)

Memphis BBQ Vs. Birmingham BBQ

Best Fried Chicken: Gus's (Memphis) Vs. JCT. Kitchen (Atlanta)

Maine Lobster: Street & Co, Lobster Shack & Red's Eats

And the best part?  There is still a whole six months left in the year!

Books: Choke

Chuck Palahniuk's Choke ** - Victor Mancini lives in a sick and twisted place: the real world.  A troubled childhood relationship with his mother, he finds himself in a situation of dropping out of medical school, taking a job set in the past, and choking to death regularly to fund her private care.  Dementia, delirium, addiction, obsessions, religion, past, and future come into play.  Just the writing - words and sentences alone; there are some memorable, classic, and brilliant sentences he puts on the written page.  A unique and wonderful writing style.  This is a difficult read though.  It's a page-turner in the weirdest way, because I couldn't figure out why it was a page-turner.  It's an odd feeling rooting for the protagonist who is essentially a bastard who happens to be likeable.  Very harsh thoughts and coarse descriptions; I hope it's the character I hated at times and not the author.  I put the book down and felt uneasy.  But I should have expected that.  The first line of the book reads as follows: "If you're going to read this, don't bother."  

Books: Go the F**k to Sleep

Adam Mansbach & Ricardo Cortes' Go the F**k to Sleep **** - A children's book.  Well, kind of.  It's dedicated to the unsung heroes: the parents.  Read this.  Hilarious.  Brilliant.  

Medicine: Truths & Observations

If you go to the bathroom, expect to get paged.   

This happens to all of us and it defies all science and reasoning.  When was the last time, truly, when you were in a hospital, that you were able to ... take care of business without being interrupted?  If I've had a relatively quiet day in the hospital, the second I close a bathroom door it is guaranteed that I will receive a page while in an awkwardly vulnerable state, with fly open or pants down.  I don't understand it!  Can't I sh*t in peace?

Medicine breeds superstitions. 

Pitchers never step on the baselines.  Goalies talk to the goalposts.  Tennis players will tie their left shoe before their right.  It's superstition, thought to change or sustain luck.  In medicine, the same superstitions arise.  If I had a good day, rest assured I'm going to keep my routine the same tomorrow: when I wake up, eat, go to bathroom, how I dress, the order in which I see patients, do orders, take care of notes, where I take breaks, you name it.  But if I had a bad day, one of those "black cloud" days as we call it in our profession, you bet there'll be some changes made: yesterday's outfit will get bleached and washed four times over, new colored scrubs, different shoes, socks, different approach to the day; whatever it takes!  I remember back in residency, I retreated to my call room.  That night, there were endless codes (cardiopulmonary arrests).  I didn't sleep a wink.  The next call, I decided to skip the call room: I found three chairs of roughly the same height - one for the feet, one for the butt, and one for the head - and slept on one of the medical floors, in plain sight of nurses.  I was barely paged and slept several hours.  The next several calls?  You bet, I found those same three chairs!  And by the way, let me ask with regards to the previous paragraph: Have you ever not gone to the bathroom, building a bladder of steel, for fear of getting paged?  I've done it!

If you don't say "I don't know" when you don't know, you'll get burned.  

This happens to everyone.  Eventually most people get humbled into their place.  If you don't know something?  Don't make up the answer.  No physician survives if they lie.  That's a fact.  Better to become humble earlier and save the embarassment.  Especially if the site of embarassment is potentially on a stage in front of hundreds of your colleagues.  

Nice patient equals poor prognosis.  

One of the most upsetting truths is the good guys never seem to win.  It happens time and again that your mystery patient with the biggest heart and nicest family (you often refer to this person as your favorite patient) will end up with the worst diagnosis, usually a terminal cancer.  It is absolutely defeating.  The thought formation is pretty instantaneous: "She's so pleasant ... I have a bad feeling about her."  But the patient who is somehow hanging on despite numerous chronic and often incurable conditions?  That person "who won't die?"  (Yes, I've used that exact phrase too.)  There's a pretty good chance that person verbally abuses the entire staff and is what you'd consider, for lack of better words, a b**ch or an a**hole.  

Patients who come in Friday night will never leave before Monday. 

These patients come in all different shapes and sizes, but have the same things in common: sick enough to be admitted but stable enough to not need any emergent care.  Those who need nursing home or rehabilitation placement?  They'll hang around until Monday when the social workers get back on service.  Why?  Not much to be done on the weekend.  Those who have chest pain and need a stress test or a cardiac catheterization?  They too will hang around until Monday when the appropriate staff return.  Those patients for whom you'd like the assistance of a subspecialty doctor?  Cross your fingers and hope someone's on call and willing to come in out of the kindness of their own hearts.  Otherwise, again, wait until Monday.  Not much to be done on the weekend.  

Intravenous access is never easy especially when desperately needed.

A lot of times, I get asked by nurses if we can remove an IV on a patient who doesn't really need it.  I'm fine with that.  The opposite scenario is much more challenging.  And too often it happens.  The patient actively bleeding or in sickle cell crisis and can't get IV access for blood.  The patient with diabetic ketoacidosis or severe hypernatremia, and can't get IV access for those fluids.  It's hard enough to get access.  But the urgency of the scenario necessitating the need for access only adds to the stress level. 

No two procedure kits are the same.  

I've done plenty of central lines.  Have I ever used the same kit twice?  Not at all.  It always keeps changing.  Same can be said of arterial line kits, lumbar puncture kits, any kit really.  Why is this?  Is there really that much competition between companies over these items?  Or is it the same company and that there is so much technological innovation that the kits change every month?  Sure, we've done enough of these procedures so that we get the hang of it.  Kind of like riding a bike, right?  Well, I can't ride a bike.  And this stuff involves large needles and syringes.  

You will never find what you need in the medicine supply room.  

The medicine supply room is a labyrinth.  Like procedure kits, no two are alike.  The way the medical supplies are organized varies wildly.  Just because you can find gauze in Unit 51, doesn't mean you can find it in the 41-CCU.  And honestly, for us MDs who are rarely in this room anyway, when we do go, why are we even there?  Usually for some sort of urgent or emergent reason.  And there's nothing like being rushed to add to the ease of finding a needle in a haystack.  

You tube it, you lose it.  

So you've collected a blood sample or some cerebrospinal fluid and you want to guarantee that it is misplaced and lost forever?  Use your hospital vacuum tubing system.  I'm convinced that each vacuum tube site within the hospital eventually converges into the middle-earth never to be seen by mankind ever again.  But if you really want to get that sample analyzed, burn the calories, and walk the samples down to the lab yourself!  And yes, the walk will seem like you are entering into the middle-earth!

People call back only when you're already on the phone.  

We all deal with this scenario.  You need to contact two people.  What are the chances they call back at the same time? you think to yourself.  So you page both.  The first one calls you back.  Only when you're already on the phone with the first person and deep into the conversation, that the second person calls you back.  The calls are never sequential.  Why?  I never page two people at once any more; the end result is always the same.  And when you try calling back the second person?  Of course, they never pick up!  I know one colleague who double phones.  I don't have the mental dexterity to do that.

No one understands the code system in their own hospital.  

In each hospital, everyone knows the code equivalent of a patient with a cardiopulmonary arrest; this may be in the form of a Code Blue or Doctor 99.  All the other codes after that?  None of us really know for sure.  A few years ago, during the summer, I heard a Code White overhead.  Snow? I thought.  Later that day, I found out it meant there was a problem with the IT system.  How about when they call a Code Brown overhead?  Yes, we all laugh to ourselves.  Environmental emergency, perhaps?  That could make sense if there was blood spilled on the ground.  Code Black?  I don't even know what that means.  Melena?  On Grey's Anatomy, a Code Black had to do with a bomb.  (Now that I think about it, Code Red should be universal for fire.)  I once heard a Code Green: that meant a patient had eloped.  I didn't figure that out until much later.  By that point, the patient must have escaped for sure.  

Scrubs are gold.  

Scrubs are hard to find, especially for us not regularly in the operating room.  I remember in residency, particular at Grady Memorial Hospital, it was a potpourri of hospital scrubs.  It was like a scrubs convention!  Scrubs from hospitals all over the country!  Scrubs in every color including every possible shade of green and blue!  Some with the hospital names printed on it, others without!  But alas, no two physicians had the same scrubs.  It was mind-boggling.  Yet, how did we each accrue our own rations?  From a surgical rotation in medical school or we knew someone who had access. 

There is never healthy food at a cardiology conference.  

Pizza Hut?  Maybe Chick-Fil-A.  

The computers are both good enough and bad enough.

We are entering a world of increasing dependence on computers, electronic medical record-keeping, and computer order entry.  The complexity of computer-based healthcare delivery systems and the relative lack of IT professionals to keep our computers up-to-date and up-to-speed have led to this unusual state of hospital computers: They're good enough so that they don't need to be replaced, yet they're bad enough so that it makes you cringe and squirm.  The nuances are particularly underscored when you're in a rush or bad mood.  For example, you are paged by a nurse to take care of the patient's discharge paperwork so they can promptly be taken to their nursing home.  When you do medication reconciliation, the computer freezes for a second with each medication you click.  There are twenty medications.  Not terrible in the grand scheme of things.  But in this scenario?  Excruciating.  How about the mouse that kind of works, but sometimes doesn't?  Or the keyboard with the sticky Spacebar key?  Internet Explorer won't load?  Playing the game: Which Computer Can Show CT Scan Images?  Billing system down?  And why aren't we allowed to use Firefox or Google Chrome?  

The ratio of chairs to computers is never 1:1 (or in favor of chairs).

I still have yet to pick my favorite position when posed with a computer sans chair: kneeling versus standing?  Well, where do those chairs go?  Have you ever noticed the relative wealth of chairs in the conference room where the nursing staff has lunch?  Just a thought.

If you're on an overnight call, pack a sleeping bag.  

It seems counter-intuitive that a hospital would have deplorable call rooms for its on-call staff.  These places, if featured in a movie, would have eerie background music.  God knows how old the sheets are or when they were last cleaned or "cleaned."  One of my co-residents was known to bring a sleeping back every time she was on call; very, very smart.  Then the bathrooms: Has anyone ever met any medical person who has showered in a call room bathroom?  They are in worse condition than most bus terminal bathrooms.  Setting foot naked into one of these showers is a setup for infectious disease.  Another observation to note.  At Emory University Hospital Midtown, the call rooms have showers with the floor of the shower at a higher level than the rest of the bathroom or call room, with a downward-slanting ramp.  Think about that for a second.  If you can get past the risk of infection, why then would you shower knowing the water would run towards the main part of the room and away from the drain?  Talk about an immense design flaw.  These bathrooms were created for one reason alone: to remind you to keep your own bathroom in pristine shape.  

Don't drink the water.  

There was an outbreak of Legionella at Grady last year.  Think of all the sick patients condensed into one building.  You can imagine the superbugs infiltrating every inch of the hospital.  Don't drink the water. 

The hospital gift shop can save you in a time of need. 

I'm not talking about sodas or cravings for Doritos.  Last winter, we had the worst snowstorms in Atlanta's history.  I was on service and, like the rest of my colleagues, we were staying at a hotel across the street from the hospital since conditions were too treacherous to go home.  I stayed there for what ended up being three days.  That created a problem.  Not a problem of getting away from the hospital or yearning to be home.  The dilemma?  Underwear.  I packed only two pairs of boxers in my overnight bag!  That's a problem!  Some people I know, including my boss, went home after two days, braving the road conditions, because they, well, ran out of underwear.  I went to the gift shop.  I noticed a crowd of people, staff and non-staff.  They weren't in the snack section or by the soda machines.  I heard someone call out, "Pass me a large!"  They had underwear!  Now, I don't prefer briefs, but on this occasion, I was quite content.  And yes, I stayed that third day.  

Medicine: Things I'd Like to Do with My Pager

- Toss it from the stern of a boat into the deep blue ocean
- Smash it with a shovel
- Drop an anvil on it
- Toss it from the top of Grady Memorial Hospital towards I-85
- Have it pitched to me underhand, so I can swing at it with a baseball bat
- Have it pitched to me overhand, so I can swing at it with an aluminum bat
- Spike it into the ground as hard as humanly possible
- Use it as a puck
- Hide it somewhere in the ER where it can be heard but never found
- Flush it down the toilet
- Call out "Pull," have it tossed into the air, and shoot at it with a rifle
- Back over it with my car
- Back over it with anyone's car
- Melt it with a blowtorch

TV: The Voice

Yes, I'm a fan.

I won't go into too much detail here.  Earlier in the month, Rolling Stone had two great articles on The Voice, "The Idol's Wild Child" and "How The Voice Became a Smash."  I agree with two articles one-hundred percent.  It so happened just three days ago, due to immense laziness, that I was able to watch a bunch of reruns. 

The blind auditions and duet battles are awesome.  The coaches during these episodes are all likeable, hilarious, and really gel as a panel.  Javier's performance of "Time After Time" was a magical moment on TV and is an example of how amazing The Voice can be.  (Adam Levine's reaction during and after the performance were priceless.)  Same could be said for Jeff Jenkins.  Another fantastic moment was the duet battle "Perfect" by Vicci Martinez and Niki Dawson. 

Though it went well, the first live show was not as great as the blind audition and duet battle episodes.  Reasons: subpar performance of a Queen montage by the coaches, the coaches getting lost in immature digs at one another to the point of immense tension, and the confusing format.  The coaches need to get back to the basics (Queen was a stretch for each of them.)  Their show opening of "Crazy" was perfect.  More of that!  I suspect and hope their on-screen live banter will improve and gel once more as the coaches get back to respectful interactions and get used to the format of live TV.  (In particular, Christina has to reel it in.)  

As The Voice grows with each season, the contestant pool should get stronger and more dense.  Hard to say if they, as a group, are better than the current pool of singers at American Idol.  American Idol has the benefit of many successful seasons and a fierce fan base and contestant base. 

Carson Daly?  Really likeable, great even, during the blind audition and battle episodes.  On the first live episode, he became his sterile past self at the mercy of television prompters. 

The Voice has awesome potential.  Hope it grows through these small live episode hiccups.  I'll be watching though.  Especially if we see performances like Dia Frampton's cover of Kanye's "Heartless."  Adam Levine said it was "cool" and "refreshing."  Agreed. 

Music: 06/06/11

Adele's 21 **** - Incredible voice.  Beautiful album.  Can't really think of a better first track on any album than "Rolling in the Deep."  Blake Shelton's Pure BS *** - Enjoyed this album, and not just because of the album's name.  Great songs too.  Brad Paisley's This Is Country Music **** - "Love starts with a toothbrush," he sings on "Toothbrush."  Like the album title proclaims, this is the most country of his albums.  My favorite album of his?  Not quite.  But his musicianship, songwriting, and sense of humor continues to shine.  He just can't do wrong.  The Civil Wars' Barton Hollow **** - Had read about them in Spin.  Heard the comparisons to The Swell Season.  Adele raves about them on her web site.  Finally listened to them.  Loved them.  Simple songs, beautiful voices and harmonies.  "Barton Hollow" rocks.  It really does sound like America's Once soundtrack.  City And Colour's Bring Me Your Love *** Great sound, reminds me of my first listen to Iron & Wine and Bon Iver.  The Drums' The Drums *** I love the song "Let's Go Surfing."  Great album.  Beach Boys meets The Smiths.  Insanely better live.  Ellie Goulding's Lights ** - Shiny pop.  Came across her at Coachella.  The song "Lights" is addictive.  Great potential.  Explosions in the Sky's Take Care, Take Care, Take Care **** - Never cease to impress me.  It's not just beautiful music.  It always makes your insides churn; it stirs emotions.  Might be their best one to date.  The Kills' Blood Pressures **** - "DNA" is f**king additive.  Killer live.  I have a crush on Alison Mosshart.  Low's C'mon **** - This album is moving, lovely, and perfect from beginning to end.  "Especially Me" is wonderful.  Best album of theirs to date.  Maroon 5's Hands All Over **** - Though I couldn't say any song here beats "Makes Me Wonder," as an album this one's superior to their last, because it flows so well from song to song.  It's complete.  "Just A Feeling" is a gem.
 

My Favorite Sunsets (In No Particular Order)

Oia, Santorini

Athens, Greece

Ios & Mykonos, Greece 

Both Santa Monica & Venice Beach, California

Mallory Square and Sunset Pier in Key West, Florida

The Signature Room of the Hancock building in Chicago, Illinois

Stern of a cruise ship sailing down the Alaskan coast towards Vancouver

The bar at Ladera in Soufriere, Saint Lucia

Sunset cruise in Cabo San Lucas, Mexico

Anywhere in Honolulu, Hawaii

The Grand Canyon after a thunderstorm

My accidental wedding proposal on a beach near St. Petersburg 

Sedona, Arizona

U.S. Route 101 on the Oregon Coast

Isla di Vieques off of Puerto Rico

Dom & Rochelle's Wedding in Boston Harbor
Lido Key in Florida
 

Books: The Old Man and the Sea

Ernest Hemingway's The Old Man and the Sea **** - I finished this book in two sittings.  I started reading it in Mallory Square during sunset in Key West.  I found a copy of this book at a local bookstore only a few blocks away from Hemingway's old house in Key West.  This was a page-turner for me.  I read the final eighty pages (the second sitting) from the comfort of my room.  I really loved this book.  I was heavily invested in his battle with the big fish.  I shared his sadness as he made his journey home.  I'm sure you can make parallels of this story, to Jesus Christ and the Bible or to his own literary career.  I'll leave that to the professionals.  I can tell you I really enjoyed this story.  His writing is simple but powerful.  The themes and characters would have been fun to dissect in an English class.  That made me wonder: Was I never required to read any Hemingway in an English class?  I thought long and hard and I realized that The Old Man and the Sea is my first reading of a Hemingway piece.  This upset me.  I went back to the local bookstore.  I bought a copy of A Farewell to Arms. 

Books: Desert Solitaire

Edward Abbey's Desert Solitaire **** - I remember before I had left Arches National Park I had added this book to my list.  I don't remember how I learned about the book.  No matter.  I loved Arches National Park.  So did Edward Abbey.  And this was before the implantation of roads and other improvements to make it more tourist friendly to the American public.  This book is a love letter to the undisturbed, pre-commercialism Arches.  He didn't visit; he lived there.  As a ranger for the park service.  For six months.  It was published in 1968.  His book is a collection of detailed descriptions and experiences, of what he saw and didn't see, of being alone but not loneliness, of those big existential life questions, of the Big Brother that he saw as the American government.  He writes beautifully.  He is honest and blunt.  He has a great sense of humor ("So I lived alone.  The first thing I did was take off my pants.  Naturally.")  Like Abbey, I hiked to Delicate Arch.  I couldn't put into words what I saw; Abbey does.  In fact, he beautifully captures the thoughts and emotions of that experience.  And because I shared that experience with him, it made the entire reading of this book that much more wonderful.  He discusses everything, including local folklore and the finding of a dead man.  We will never get to experience the American southwest like he did.  He immersed himself, took off his pants, and let it be, whether it was floating down the Colorado on an inflatable boat or hiking through the La Sal Mountains.  In that respect then, this was not only a love letter to the American southwest but also a protest against the American government.  This book is over 40 years old.  He predicts what happens to Arches and the national forests (and he's right).  In a way it is sad.  You have to thank him for writing this "elegy" or "memorial" as he calls it as we'll never experience the wilderness like he did. It was a rare book for me: it didn't read as a book but as if Abbey himself was talking to me.  His message remains pertinent and powerful and I heard it loud and clear.

    

Food: Blue Heaven

Blue Heaven *** (Key West, FL) - If there's any place that has the look and feel of Key West, it's Blue Heaven.  It's tucked away just behind Duval Street.  You enter through a blue gate and find yourself in a tropical backyard that's simply furnished with patio furniture and waiters and waitresses who wear sneakers.  This seems to be a favorite for hangover cures but also the locals: one of the waiters said there's been a couple coming there every day for what seems like a decade.  My breakfast: a lobster, bacon, and Swiss cheese omelet with homemade toast.  This omelet was the size of a brick.  I finished it though and it sat like a brick.  I ordered it because the waitress loved it and, well, I'd never had lobster for breakfast: original and pretty darn good.  Would I come back?  Most definitely.  This place is unique with good food.  Add to the experience the chickens and roosters freely roaming the backyard, which makes you wonder about the origin of the eggs.  But I digress.  (Addendum 06/07/11: Didn't realize this, but Ernest Hemingway back in the day, when Blue Heaven was a saloon, used to referee boxing matches here.)

Food: Sunset Pier

Sunset Pier *** (Key West, FL) - If you're looking for a place to watch the sunset and grab a bite or a drink, this would be one of my top recommendations.  The beer selection is limited, the mixed drink list is slightly better, and the food is what you'd expect for bar food.  Sure they have things like conch fritters and Cuban sandwiches, but again, they're of the quality you'd expect for bar food.  But then there's the rest of it: a great atmosphere, a great view of the water and Sunset Key, a great breeze, with young and old alike there really to snag a front-row seat for a fantastic sunset.  Those things matter.  Go for sunset.  Don't go only for the food.  And don't forget to stop by Mallory Square.

Food: El Siboney

El Siboney **** (Key West, FL) - This place is bit removed from the touristy sector of Key West.  It is filled mostly with locals and with reason.  I ordered the Cuban sandwich, yellow rice, and plantains: delicious!  Service is fast, no fuss, and the turnover is even faster.  Cheap too!  Now I haven't been to Cuba.  I know what I like though, and this place is definitely the best Cuban food I've had in memory.  Key West is 90 miles away from Cuba.  It's so close you can taste it.  Literally.

Food: Marker 88

Marker 88 * (Islamorada, FL) - The two best things about this place are the name and the view (and I bet the latter is amazing at sunset.)  I had the conch chowder which was only okay and the fish sandwich, which they advertise is the best on the islands, but was excessively bland.  It was cooked to tastelessness.  It's no coincidence that I write about this after my review on Pierre's (i.e. non-chronologically).  The fantastic experience at Pierre's made Marker 88 quite forgetful. 

Food: Pierre's

Pierre's Restaurant **** (Islamorada, FL) - I want to meet Pierre.  What Edith's Restaurant is to Cabo, Pierre's is to Islamorada and possibly all of Key West.  This was memorable from beginning to end.  Shall I walk you through it?  I turn into the parking lot and am greeted there by a pretty girl in a yellow dress, showing me where to park.  I see the place is filling with a large group of people who all appear to know one another - a wedding party? a rehearsal dinner? did the wedding already happen? - I can't really tell.  I opt for the bar.  Online, they had a separate bar menu.  There, in person, I have an augmented selection: bar menu and regular menu.  I decide to order from the regular menu.  Because of that, they relocate me; they figure I'll be more comfortable at one of the nice tables by the window.  I sit on a sofa.  They bring out my appetizer: House-Made Lamb Ravioli with Brunoise Vegetables, Wilted Brussel Leaves, and Creamy Lamb Jus.  Superb.  With each bite, I feel my eyes roll into the back of my head; I savor every flavor of every bite.  Next, my entree: Pan Seared Sea Scallops with Wild Mushroom Orzo and Haricot Vert with Roasted Onion & Bacon Emulsion.  Again, superb.  The first bite of scallop instantaneously reminds me of the scallops at Canoe, my favorite restaurant in Atlanta.  To think, the bacon is the least delicious item on that plate (but yes, it is still delicious).  It becomes a fine line between devouring and enjoying.  They ask me if I want anything else.  I tell them I want a mango mojito and ask if I can read my book outside on their porch and watch the sunset.  They oblige.  (How often can you even make such a request?!)  I exit, turn left, and find a comfortable lounge chair on the porch, with a view of the beach, palm trees, and the bay.  The sun starts its descent.  It is 7:15 PM.  Next door, at a bar under the same ownership as Pierre's, an acoustic guitar player sings "Sweet Baby James."  Pierre's continues to fill.  A wedding party, for sure.  Next a birthday party.  Everyone takes pictures.  I don't mind, not at all.  This is special.  I feel like I'm at someone's summer home, celebrating.  I finish my book, finish my mojito.  I watch the sunset.  The clouds shatter the light and make a beautiful sunset even more dramatic.  I take a short stroll in the sand.  I go back inside to settle my tab.  The bartender asks me how my night was.  I think about what the girl who sat next to me outside on the porch said, a total stranger, only fifteen minutes before: "Can you ask for anything more?"  Nope, I certainly can't.

Sunset from the porch at Pierre's

Food: Nikai

Nikai ** (Islamorada, FL) - I couldn't say no to Nikai at Cheeca Lodge.  There are many restaurants at Cheeca Lodge, but the fact of the matter is that last night I didn't want to leave the property and I was in the mood for sushi.  Simple.  Great service.  I ordered the bonsai: fried soft shell crab and avocado roll topped with spicy tuna, chipotle sweet soy sauce, and fried green onions.  This hit the spot.  The roll was sufficient that I was glad I didn't order an appetizer, another roll, or dessert.  Too bad this isn't open for lunch tomorrow.  I'd go again. 

Food: Jimmy'z Kitchen

Jimmy's Kitchen *** (Miami, FL) - My brother showed me a clip of Guy Fieri eating mofongo at Benny's Seafood in Miami; this was the best thing he ever ate.  As I did more research, and even peaked into the blogs of fans of Guy Fieri, it seemed unanimous that the best mofongo in Miami wasn't at Benny's; it was at Jimmy'z Kitchen.  In fact, the strongest supporters of this claim were Puerto Ricans or Cubans.  I landed at the airport in Fort Lauderdale; within an hour I was at Jimmy'z Kitchen.  To start, let me get the bad stuff out of the way.  This might have been the most expensive lunch I've had in recent memory, at just over $20.  But yes, it was absolutely delicious!  I ordered the seafood mofongo, which appeared to be a staff favorite.  It was brought out to me piping hot.  Seafood everywhere!  (People everywhere; this place was packed to the brim!)  The plantain-based, gravity-defying structure was massive but crumbled on the slightest contact with my fork.  Awesome!  I was in Puerto Rico about two years ago.  Though we weren't on a mofongo run per se, I did eat it quite a bit, particularly in Old San Juan.  Jimmy'z is at least on par with the mofongo I had there.  I'll defer to the Puerto Ricans and Cubans who live in Miami.  But now the dilemma: should I try Benny's now?

Food: Abattoir

Abattoir *** (Atlanta, GA) - These are the best chicharones I've ever had.  In fact, I ordered the chicharones twice!  TWICE!  It was a laid-back fine dining experience, if such a thing is possible (the waiters wore jeans).  And another nice thing: there was space!  The delicious charcuterie and platter of cheeses was laid out as we approached the table.  Veal sweetbread?  Yum!  Blood sausage?  Delicious!  The restaurant is aptly named.  The cowboy steak, Wagyu flat iron, the burger, rabbit; everyone was pleased with their dish.  Add to that, a hypomanic and hilarious waiter still mourning Manchester United's defeat to Barcelona (he showed us his Manchester United tattoo), and it was a fantastic experience.  I forgot to mention dessert.  Again, a sampler platter did the trick as we were wildly undecided.  My favorite: the bacon cookie.  That's right!  A bacon cookie.  No overt baconness though.  It was a pretty simple butter cookie with the smell of bacon.  Down right brilliant!  Is it worth while going just for the chicharones and bacon cookie and omit the entree?  To be honest, I'm seriously thinking of doing exactly that and very, very soon ...

Trips: SHM 2011 in Dallas

May 10-14, 2011

Hooray, Dallas.  Okay, okay.  Not necessarily my favorite city.  Plus, during medical school, I interviewed here so I had done a few things: visit the Sixth Floor Museum and catch a Stars game (versus Sidney Crosby and the Penguins no less).  I even trekked to The Stockyards in Fort Worth and caught a rodeo.  But it worked out for the best.  After a week in New Orleans and Utah, I was about ready to take it easy.  The Gaylord Texan, the hotel where I stayed, is built for achieving relaxation. 

I did nothing.  Or next to nothing.  Sure, I attended a few conferences here and there.  Sure, we had a few dinners here are there (see food reviews below).  But what I enjoyed the most, outside of reuniting with some friends and co-workers, was the ability to sleep in.  That was glorious.  

I landed at Dallas Fort Worth airport and my first order of business was ... to get a haircut.  That's the second sign I knew my travels were perhaps too frequent.  (The first sign was mailing a Mother's Day card from Las Vegas about one week prior.)  I got a haircut.  I went to Supercuts.  And much in the same way I still am amazed that a Chicken McNugget tastes the same anywhere in the world, so too did I react when I got my same haircut as I usually do in Atlanta. 

I thought the Gaylord Hotel from SHM 2010 in DC was huge.  But of course, that means huge becomes huger in Texas.  The Gaylord Texan was humongous.  This was fine by me.  I planned to take it easy.  After I checked in, I did the natural thing: order room service.  I ordered the burger.  Yes, it hit the spot.  

Everything about this hotel is over-sized: the room (but lacking a microwave though), the number of rooms, the number of restaurants, the pools, the shopping inside the hotel, you name it.  It was necessary though; there's not much else to do in this part of Texas.

I was supposed to go the Rangers game that first night.  But with the threat of rain and my general laziness, I passed on the idea.  Later on, I learned that Dan went alone to that same game and had a blast.  Maybe the free upgrade helped!  

I did set aside one day for exploration: I had breakfast at All Good Cafe (see food review below), visited the Dallas Museum of Art and the Nasher Sculpture Center, and watched the Rangers beat up the Angels 4-1 in a heavily underrated ballpark.  (Plus, the seats behind home plate certainly helped!)  But one day is all I needed.  (By the way, Cowboy Stadium is HUGE!)

I am definitely more excited for SHM 2012 in San Diego.

Zeppole * (Grapevine, TX) - A good dinner.  I didn't expect life-changing Italian food from Texas.  But alas, the focus was catching up with Kristin, Ketino, and Regina.

Old Hickory Steakhouse ** (Grapevine, TX) - Fifty of us from Emory Healthcare showed up to this dinner.  It was great to catch up everything, in particular my classmates who I hadn't seen in a little while, including Anna, Eva, and Christina.  My mission was to finish the steak.  I think it was good.  I actually don't remember.  Outside of catching up, one of my favorite moments was being tapped on the shoulder by Jason Stein: "I was told to ask you what your favorite burger places are in Atlanta."  Such is my reputation.  

Texan Station *** (Grapevine, TX) - When you're in Texas, stick with BBQ.  That beef brisket was awesome; I had the recommendation of my boss.  Didn't disappoint. 

Hard Eight BBQ *** (Grapevine, TX) - Is it me or does no one do BBQ sausage better than in Texas?  My boss had a craving for Texas BBQ since we were in Texas.  Mags, Dan, and I were chauffeurs.  The group: Val, Eva, Christina, Sreedhar, Mags, Dan, and I.  The guys became giddy as we looked at the menu and you could order only by pounds and half pounds.  At one point, I had a platter with a pound each of brisket, ribs, and sausage in front of me.  Eva and Christina, knowing my dietary habits, urged me to finish the platter.  I didn't.  The ribs were good.  The sausage was excellent.  The brisket was okay, a bit dry and not as tender as expected.  The leftovers were delicious the next morning.  The food and company?  A definite blast.  

All Good Cafe * (Dallas, TX) - I came across this place on the Travel Channel.  Maybe it was the Food Channel.  It raved about the bacon here.  Now, I think it's hard to get bacon wrong.  They got the bacon wrong here.  Overpeppered and overcooked.  It was pretty unpleasant actually.  Thoroughly unimpressed. 

Trips: Arches National Park III (Delicate Arch)

In progress ...

Trips: Arches National Park II (Devil's Garden)

In progress ...

Trips: Arches National Park I (Arrival)

In progress ...

Trips: Bryce Canyon National Park

May 5 and 6, 2011

Just two hours away from Zion is Bryce Canyon.  

Right off the bat, I can say I wish I spent more time here.  But with the alien landscape that is Utah, you must pick your battles.  My focus was Zion and Arches.  The first lesson learned was obvious: I'll be returning to Utah.  No doubt about that. 

Ah, hoodoos, those mysterious rock formations shaped by the powerful erosive forces of wind and water.  I didn't realize that Bryce Canyon was at such altitude; it was on average 1,000 feet higher than Zion, with a peak altitude near 9,000 feet if my memory serves.  The air certainly felt thinner.  As to why the hoodoos form, it makes more sense to me when I was there.  With the altitude, the endless cycle of water and ice and freezing and thawing, yeah, I bet over a million years you'd get some weird rock formations.  We were visiting in May.  I was wearing a sweatshirt and winter hat.  

From a bird's eye, the view of these formations are most incredible during sunrise and sunset.  Men and women before me obviously figured this out; two of the most dramatic viewpoints are Sunrise View and Sunset View.  At these times of day the sun accentuates and underscores the already dramatic nature of the hoodoos.  It's hard to describe.  For those who have been to the Grand Canyon, it's the same effect.  I caught sunset at Sunset View.  I caught sunrise at Sunrise View.  And as awesome as these views and the other views are, it's even better when you get to explore them up close on the trails.

The hikes are different than Zion.  The paths feel more like mazes.  You ascend and descend into what feels like a labyrinth.  The park is named after Ebenezer Bryce, who famously (supposedly) remarked that this place would be a helluva place to lose a cow.  No arguments there.  If not for the well-maintained trails, it is easy to get lost as your eyes tend to look up and around at all these hoodoos.  Good luck using any of these are reliable landmarks.  We took the Sunrise Trail to Queen's Path.  Before you know it, you're standing beside these incredible structures.  I remember hiking down with this other couple, and we were literally giddy with these amazing structures.  We spent a few hours of hiking before we turned back to the main lodge for dinner.  

The next morning we visited Bryce, Paria, and Inspiration Points.  Yet there were still 18 miles worth of roads and viewpoints that we couldn't get to.  Add those to a future checklist.  Come back to Bryce Canyon too?  You bet.
 

Trips: Zion National Park II (Angels Landing)

May 5, 2011

Two words: Angels Landing.

What is Angels Landing?  It is the hike at Zion.  It is a 4-hour and over 5-mile round-trip hike with a near 2000-foot change in altitude, with final altitude just shy of 6,000 feet.  We read about Angels Landing in the pamphlet provided at the entrance.  I read about it in the hiking book I bought from the gift shop.  Each time we read the descriptions, we shuddered.  Then keep in mind my brother Jay had completed his first hike when we first arrived at Zion only twelve hours prior.  That might be a bit much for him, I thought.  That might be a bit much for me, I thought.  Then I looked up Angels Landing on Wikipedia.  Sure, the picture was inspiring/terrifying.  Again, repeated phrases such as "fear of heights" and "any reservations" suggested not doing the hike.  But here was what really got me.  The first section in that Wikipedia page was Fatalities!  SERIOUSLY??  Fatalities was the first section??!!

We hiked to Angels Landing.

The day before we hiked we saw the shirts in the gift shop.  Different ones for those who attempted (failed) and for those who succeeded (triumphed).  I initially thought we weren't going to do the trail, for all those aforementioned reasons.  I had gone to bed thinking, One day I'll make it ... but not tomorrow.  Before I knew it we were attempting the trail.  

It was tremendously cold.  After the first half hour, we found ourselves at slowly increasing slopes and grades.  I was dressed in a winter hat, t-shirt with a black sweatshirt, shorts, and boots.  I had four bottles of water on me.  The hat come off.  The first bottle of water was finished.  Then we ran into a couple making their way down.  They insisted we make it to Angels Landing.  It started as "We'll see what happens."  It increasingly turned into "Why the hell not?!"

The heart was pumping.  All muscles were working.  Forty-five minute mark: we hit Walter's Wiggles, a series of 21-switchbacks leading up to Scout's Lookout.  We managed to slowly but surely negotiate Walter's Wiggles.  (I remember our way down, passing people making their way up.  The magical catch phrase was "Holy crap!")  We arrived at Scout's Lookout.  I was hunched over and pursed-lip breathing.  We took a break. 

Decision time.  Despite numerous signs, again reminders with warnings against those with children or fear of heights, I felt we had gone too far to turn back.  Since we're already here ... As is always the case, the adrenaline rush was there.  Jay was agreeable.  We took pictures of the warning signs.  Not sure why.  Perhaps a reminder of our stupidity if we survived.

The spine leading towards Angels Landing was steep and narrow.  There were a series of chains to support your way up.  I didn't even want to think of the prospect of coming back down, which was always much harder.  Psychologically, at least.  The first mind-fuck (Angels Landing Mind Fuck #1): The chains aren't continuous!  There were spots where you are only on a few feet of ledge with nothing but thousand-foot drop-offs on either side.  Which leads to the second mind-fuck (ALMF #2): THERE ARE THOUSAND-FOOT DROP-OFFS ON EITHER SIDE!!!  That's right!  You look to your left and see you the pencil thin road below.  (For a moment, you remember how safe you felt on that road thousands of feet below.)  You look to your right and you see the pencil thin river, which up close is not so pencil thin.  You look ahead and the trail seems equally pencil thin.  A woman was behind me and she reminded herself that she was afraid of heights.  Which then reminded me of my fear of heights.  I tried to put it past me ... until we ran into a twenty-something year old girl who was shivering.  She said she was petrified and couldn't go forward.  Fantastic!  And then I realized the next mind fuck (ALMF #3): Not only do you have to negotiate narrow space, but you have to negotiate with people going up, going down, or stopped in their tracks!  Twister, if you will, to the extreme!  Despite all of these factors, the adrenaline rush still trumped all the reservations and fears, and we pushed forward.  Jay had the adrenaline rush.  He went from hesitant to start, to leading our charge.  The trail seemed to get steeper and steeper, requiring increasing upper body strength to reach this mysterious place called Angels Landing.  We took frequent stops.  The views got better with altitude.  So did the hike.  Which made taking pictures or videos that much trickier.  It's hard to rock climb and pull yourself on chains when you have a camera in one hand.  The ALMFs, all of them, kept repeating and reminding us of their presence: you'd see a drop-off only to realize you had to tango with people coming down.  Then with increasing altitude came ALMF #4: BLOWING WINDS!  We'd keep climbing and climbing and just when we thought we were making our "final push" a rock cliff had been hiding another several hundred feet of mountainous spine to climb (ALMF #5).  We made several final pushes.  Until we finally made it to Angels Landing!  We celebrated!  We took photos.  We took video.  And then Jay said, "What's over there?"  Premature celebration.  We hiked the final five minutes.  At exactly the two-hour mark we made it to Angels Landing.  

Angels Landing is an amazing hike.   

I always love the camaraderie with hikes like these.  Angels Landing was no exception. 

Jay edited a video; he took footage with his handheld camera.  I received the video in the mail a few days ago.  I watched it.  What were we thinking??!! I thought.  The shakiness of the video (through no fault of my brother; consider hiking and taking video with this dramatic change in altitude) added to the tension of the hike.  In fact, I was more stressed by the video than the actual hike itself.  And I knew the outcome!  

I had been searching the web for other people's pictures.  Then I found a picture off of the web site Joe's Guide to Zion National Park.  This picture is the precise moment of where my fear had peaked; one of the most narrow points during the hike coinciding with a pause in the chains, a bit of a skip-jump to the next step, and drop offs on both sides.  This is a priceless shot off of his web site: beautiful yet terrifying ...

The hike down was simpler.  It was still tiring though.  It took a toll on my knees.  But the chants of "Holy Crap!" down Walter's Wiggles made me laugh.  So did watching two teenagers attempt to run up all 21 switchbacks of Walter's Wiggles and predictably fail.  Back at Zion Lodge Jay and I indulged in a victorious meal.  Jay got his victory burger.  I got my victory bratwurst.  We soaked it all in.  But not for too long.  Bryce Canyon was calling ...

Trips: Zion National Park I (Arrival)

May 4, 2011

This place is beautiful.

I'm a sucker for a palette of colors, mountain ranges, and canyons.  Through in a winding river, that can't hurt either.  Jay and I made the three-hour drive from Vegas.  We checked into Zion Lodge.  (A very comfortable place to stay with a great restaurant.)  It was Jay's first time, so the first afternoon involved a series of easy hikes.  Riverside was paved.  A nice hike, featuring numerous deer.  It ended at The Narrows, a trail I'd love to do if not for the immense water levels and fear of drowning due to inability to swim.  On our way back, Jay got sidetracked getting as close as possible to some deer.  I stayed back and watched.  Some passerbys stopped.  "Who's that guy?" one asked.  "I hope he knows deer attack."  I responded: "And that's my brother." Weeping Rock was a short but steep 15 minute hike to a rock over ledge, under which you perch with not only a view of the mountains and valley but water trickles over and around you via the ledge.  A beautiful spot.  Zion was full of beautiful spots.  We ended that first day with the Lower Emerald Pool hike.  Again, paved and meandering with grand views.  So funny how this was only three hours away from Las Vegas.  Such different worlds. I enjoyed this new one.
 

Excerpt from Desert Solitaire

Delicate Arch (05/07/2011)

Excerpt from Edward Abbey's Desert Solitaire (1968):

There are several ways of looking at Delicate Arch.  Depending on your preconceptions you may see the eroded remnant of a sandstone fin, a giant engagement ring cemented in rock, a bow-legged pair of petrified chaps, a triumphal arch for a procession of angels, an illogical geologic freak, a happening-a something that happened and will never happen quite that way again, a frame more significant that its picture, a simple monolith eaten away by weather and time and soon to disintegrate into a chaos of falling rock (not surprisingly there have been some, even in the Park Service, who advocate spraying Delicate Arch with a fixative of some sort-Elmer's Glue perhaps or Lady Clairol Spray-Net).  There are the inevitable pious Midwesterners who climb a mile and a half under the desert sun to view Delicate Arch and find only God ("Gol-dangit Katherine where's my light meter, this glare is turrible"), and the equally inevitable students of geology who look at the arch and see only Lyell and the uniformity of nature.  You may therefore find proof for or against His existence.  Suit yourself.  You may see a symbol, a sign, a fact, a thing without meaning or a meaning which includes all things.

Much the same could be said of the tamarisk down in the canyon, of the blue-black raven croaking on the cliff, of your own body.  The beauty of Delicate Arch explains nothing, for each thing in its way, when true to its own character, is equally beautiful.  (There is no beauty in nature, said Baudelaire.  A place to throw empty beer cans on Sunday, said Mencken.)  If Delicate Arch has any significance it lies, I will venture, in the power of the odd and unexpected to startle the senses and surprise the mind out of their ruts of habit, to compel us into a reawakened awareness of the wonderful-that which is full of wonder.

A weird, lovely, fantastic object out of nature like Delicate Arch has the curious ability to remind us-like rock and sunlight and wind and wilderness-that out there is a different world, older and greater and deeper by far than ours, a world which surrounds and sustains the little world of men as sea and sky surrounds and sustain a ship.  The shock of the real.  For a little while we are again able to see, as the child sees, a world of marvels.  For a few moments we discover that nothing can be taken for granted, for if this ring of stone is marvelous then all which shaped it is marvelous, and our journey here on earth, able to see and touch and hear in the midst of tangible and mysterious things-in-themselves, is the most strange and daring of all adventures ..." 

FC Barcelona Defeats Manchester United

Sometimes you have to prioritize.  Despite having to work today, I managed to see my patients, sneak in a haircut, pay some pills, return to work, teach my intern about nephritic and nephrotic syndromes, eat lunch, and leave by noon.  Did laundry.  Started packing for Key West.  Why?  Hell if I'm gonna miss watching the UEFA Champions League final!  

A few years ago, I remember watching Tiger and Federer in the their prime.  But watching Barcelona and Lionel Messi now is even more impressive.  Joel and I texted back numerous times during the game.  It was close after the first half.  But in the end, it was classic Barcelona.  Pedro, Messi, and Villa score.  Messi was Man of the Match.  Talk about prime-time.  I'll be wearing my Messi jersey to work tomorrow.

What did I do after the game?  Rewatched the highlights; God bless DVR.  Joel told me he took a post-game nap.  I ate a post-game bacon cheeseburger at Grindhouse, a pretty good burger joint dangerously close to my apartment.  I started reading Edward Abbey's Desert Solitaire and already it brings me back to the wonderful Arches. 

I look forward to next futbol season.  I approve of the new black away kits for FC Barcelona. 

Barca, Barca, Barca!!!

Books: Medium Raw

Anthony Bourdain's Medium Raw *** - I love Anthony Bourdain.  Why?  He tells it how it is.  He uses the F word a lot.  But he's eloquent.  It's different than Kitchen Confidential: it's more a series of essays than a chronological set of stories.  Yes, there's a whole chapter on the hamburger.  The chapter Lust: pure food porn.  I love his essay on protecting his daughter from the evil empire (McDonald's).  My second favorite chapter is I'm Dancing: a love letter to his daughter.  My absolute favorite is My Aim is True, and it's by far the best chapter of these two books: an ode to the fish guy at Le Bernardin in NYC.  Beautifully written and moving.  One of the best written pieces I can remember reading in a long time.  And that makes me so freaking jealous: the way he eats, travels, gets paid to be himself, and writes eloquently?  Unfair.  He knows it.  Did he actually write a chapter about a subpar experience at a Keller restaurant?  For sure.  That's insane.  How I live vicariously through him, the bastard.

Traveling is My Addiction

I'm addicted.  

I've done more traveling these first six months of 2011 than I've ever had in my life.  That's a feat considering how much I travel anyway.  Then consider we're only five months into 2011 and I stayed put in Atlanta in February.

This year, I've done some amazing things: indulge in low-country cuisine in Charleston; visit Fort Sumter; climb Petit Piton in Saint Lucia and celebrate with a seafood buffet at Ladera; relax on Lover's Beach, eat at Edith's, and parasail in Cabo San Lucas; catch up with my cousin and friends in Honolulu; eat a loco moco; hike the Kalalau Trail; take a helicopter tour of the Napali Coast and Waimea Canyon; catch Yankees spring training down in Tampa with Yankee faithful; relax on the deserted Caladesi Beach (reached only by boat) or Siesta Key; visit pandas, giraffes, and elephants at San Diego Zoo; catch a Padres home game, catch a Texas Rangers home game; finally attend the Coachella Music Festival and its dry desert heat; high five David Hasselhoff at a Duran Duran concert; indulge in the seafood and po' boys in NOLA and at Jazzfest; dive face-first into the Famous Ferdi at Mother's; catch up with my brother in Las Vegas; have a burger at In & Out; hike the near 6,000-foot Angels Landing in Zion; wander through Queen's Garden in Bryce Canyon; hike to Delicate Arch at Arches National Park as I watch the wind steal my brother's hat; and rendezvous with co-workers for Texas BBQ in Dallas ...

I'm working day 9 of 16 in a row, and I can feel the travel withdrawal symptoms developing: anxiety over being in the same city too long, racing thoughts of places to see, nightmares of not being well-traveled abroad, and the need to create lists - food lists, music lists, baseball stadiums to visit - all ultimately related to the travel experience!  I don't check my email as much: I blitzkrieg travel sites looking for ideas, deals, hotels, breaks on airfare, and somehow try to do as much as possible without making it stressful.  My friends joke that I could be a travel planner.  I bet I could.  Seriously.  Earlier this year, I wasn't just planning Cabo when I talked with Leah.  I was planning Hawaii and Florida too!

I've already booked things well into September.  Kendra's wedding; yeah, I've thought that out and even hold tickets for Bumbershoot.  Two weeks later is ACL; I've already booked a ticket to Houston and plan to catch an Astros game, maybe visit Johnson Space Center, and I've created a salivating BBQ eat list, tracking from Houston to Lockhart to Austin.  Working backwards, Chicago and Lollapalooza is already mapped out.  I have my fingers crossed for Nirali & Rishi's wedding.  A BBQ run with Becca to Alabama and Tennessee, and will finally hit up the much eluded Rendezvous.  Intercepting Joel and Christy in Maine in July.  A trip back to the Northeast in June to help Leah move.  I leave for Fort Lauderdale in about a week.  A few days of relaxation in Islamaroda before the weekend in Key West.

The thing is that I really like Atlanta.

So who do I blame on this affliction?  Excluding myself, there are many people to blame.  There are also a few non-human entities to blame too.

My parents.  Growing up, we went on a lot of family vacations with my parents and my Grandma.  We took lots of road trips.  We explored the Caribbean quite frequently.  Many cruises when I grew up, the first one when I was under 10 years of age.  We did Hawaii and Alaska within a six month window when I was in high school.  That was awesome.  So yes, my parents are to blame.  Oh, and they came to America basically with one-way tickets when they were in their mid-twenties?  Yeah.

Kendra.  I must say, she may be the singular greatest influence.  She had this need to see and do everything.  It was ridiculously infectious.  I blame her.

Leah.  In the seven years we've known each other, we've rendezvoused all over the map: Boston, New York, DC, Minnesota, Austin, Nashville, Los Angeles, Atlanta, Cabo San Lucas, and Greece.  I blame her too.

The medical field.  All the interviews across the country for residency.  For others, interviews across the country for medical school beforehand and fellowship afterwards.  The medical diaspora pitting friends near and dear all over the country.

Too much good food.  Yes, I will travel to NYC for bagels, pizza, and pastrami.  I will not eat seafood in Atlanta; I'd rather wait until I'm back in NY, Charleston, or NOLA.  Mexican food?  I'll wait until I'm in Mexico, Texas, or Southern California.  I'll fly to Kansas City for BBQ.  I'll eat cheesesteaks in Philadelphia.  Ever watch Man vs. Food?  Probably a bad idea that I, as a doctor, idolize Adam Richman.  Did I mention my BBQ list for when I go to Houston and Austin in September?

Dare I slow down?  Maybe a little bit.  Earlier this month in Dallas, I started to feel the exhaustion of my travels.  Plus, when I have to mail a Mother's Day card from Nevada and get a haircut in Texas, I know that I'm maybe spending too little time at home.

Is there a treatment for this?  You can give alcoholics benzodiazepines ... or alcohol.  But for my withdrawal?  I don't know.  I'm still young, unattached, and energetic.  I'm gonna keep going.  Am I addicted?  Hell yeah!  If you find a cure, don't tell me.  I'm loving this ride!

Food: Top 10 Foods I Ate at Jazzfest 2011

Initially, this was supposed to be a Top 10 Foods I Ate in NOLA list.  Clearly I didn't follow through with that.  Why?  One, it was too hard.  Second, a lot of my personal favorites are also cheap so should just be required eating.  I love eating in NOLA.

The Required Eating 

Cafe au lait and beignets at Cafe du Monde - Duh!  The original muffuletta at Central Grocery - I think choosing between the muffuletta and po' boy as the official sandwich of NOLA is damn near impossible.  They sell half and whole muffulettas.  Keep in mind, the half muffuletta is about 1.5 times the size of a standard sub.  The Famous Ferdi at Mother's Restaurant - Today, I went back and had it for the second time.  When I hopped on line, there were five people in front me; between the five of them, they ordered six of the Famous Ferdi po' boy.  What is it?  A glorious helping of the best ham ever, roast beef, mustard, cabbage, with a nice douse of gray known as debris (it literally is a debris of meat).  Premedicate with Tums, Zantac, Prilosec ... something!  Raw oysters at Acme Oyster House - Seriously.  Oh, and finally - anything that is local and Cajun!  Gumbo, po' boys,  barbecue shrimp (at Deanie's ... drool ...), crawfish ... Basically, I think it's impossible to go wrong in NOLA!     

 

Top 10 Foods I Ate at Jazzfest
10. Mango Freeze (WWOZ Community Radio)
09. Fried Soft-Shell Crab Po' Boy (Galley Seafood Restaurant)
08. Muffuletta (DiMartino’s Famous Muffulettas)
07. Crawfish Sack (Patton's Caterers)
06. Pheasant, Quail & Andouille Gumbo (Prejean's Restaurant)
05. Beignets (Cafe du Monde)
04. Crawfish Beignets (Patton's Caterers)
03. Crawfish Monica (Kajun Kettle Foods, Inc.)
02. Louisiana Crawfish Po' Boy (Sharon & Guilherme Wegner)
01. Cochon de Lait Po' Boy (Love at First Bite)

Hands down, best food at any music festival.  If you disagree, reread this Top 10 list.  And this is only a fraction of the available food there, much of which I didn't even try!  Warning: If you plan to go for both weekends of Jazzfest, take the advice of a girl from Colorado with whom I spoke: "I lost five pounds in the week approaching this trip.  Not a coincidence."

An Incredible Week of World News

I came down to New Orleans for one reason: Jazzfest 2011.  This is the smallest detail in a week of news.

I arrived in New Orleans on April 28, 2011.  Later that day, once I got settled into my hotel room,  I watched the news and saw numerous severe thunderstorms and tornadoes rip through the southeast, particularly in Alabama, Mississippi, and Georgia.  I watched emotionally-affected meteorologists report tornado after tornado, including the devastating monster that ripped through Tuscaloosa and northern Birmingham.  I watched the aftermath.  The devastation and deaths.  It was heart-wrenching.

Within twenty-four hours, William & Catherine were married in England.  It was a beautiful royal wedding and amazing to witness.  Sure, I wasn't a fanatic like some, but when's the next time we will see a royal wedding or any wedding like this?  But it did bring flashbacks to years ago.  I remember I had gone to bed, I had left the VCR on to tape Saturday Night Live.  I woke up the next morning; I had taped news coverage of Princess Diana's death.  The world had been shocked.  In watching the William & Catherine wedding, it was incredible to see everything go right.  The ceremony was beautiful.  Catherine looked beautiful.  They both seem genuine, comfortable, and happy.  The pure joy expressed by the population was moving.  As for the two kisses?  Come on, that was awesome.  The House of Windsor seems true, modern, and real.  For once, it was a breath of fresh air to have genuinely good news.  And to see news reporters laugh and have a good time for a change?  That was fun too.

Last night, I was watching television when breaking news revealed Osama bin Laden had been killed.  I waited nearly an hour.  I watched President Obama's address to the nation and to the world.  I watched crowds start to gather outside the White House and Ground Zero.  In my mind, I flashed back to ten years ago, to everything I experienced during 9/11.  Like many interviewed on the news, it truly is a culmination of numerous emotions.  I am excited this evil man is gone from this world.  I have sadness, remembering all the victims and families affected nearly ten years ago.  I have the utmost respect and can only say infinite thank yous to those in the military and in those in any segment in public service.  I am proud to live in this country and be an American.  I am reminded of the bigger picture and what brings us all together.   

It is indeed a lot of news to swallow.  It has been a historic week.  It is almost difficult to process.  Then I think about where I am right now, in New Orleans, at Jazzfest.  New Orleans lives on and remains a great city.  At Jazzfest, I realize that I am seeing a glimpse of humanity at its best: people of all  walks of life, ages and backgrounds, from here and from all over the states and the world, coming together to celebrate life, and everything in it, food, music, and love.  It's a reminder that we all can get along. 

Trips: New Orleans

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Trips: New Orleans Jazzfest 2011 (Day 3)

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Trips: New Orleans Jazzfest 2011 (Day 2)

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Trips: New Orleans Jazzfest 2011 (Day 1)

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Trips: San Diego

First impression: I'm a fan of San Diego. 

San Diego is to Los Angeles what Boston is to New York.  But here's where San Diego is better than Boston: friendlier people, better weather, easier parking, and better Mexican food.  In my days before and after Coachella, I got to explore.  Not only was it easy to get from different parts of the city by car, but once I got there it was a walkable city. 

Balboa Park is beautiful.  Lots of museums that I didn't get a chance to explore.  Why?  I opened for the San Diego Zoo.  Come on, why not?  I was in a park, it was a beautiful day, and you know, I didn't mind seeing some animals, exotic or fluffy or whatever.  It was a beautiful zoo and the animals there were awesome!  I know I'm sounding like a kid, but isn't that the point?  Elephants, panda bears (including one taking a nap, that's my kinda panda), giraffes.  I had a great time.  

The Gaslight District and Horton Plaza even was quirky.  Walkable.  Busy but not overwhelmingly crowded.  Dense with bars and restaurants.  Great shopping too; I bought a few sweatshirts at the PUMA store (preparation for Coachella, of course.)  The ballpark is right there and tickets were cheaper than expected (I sat about 15 rows behind home plate).  Amazing views from the top of the Grand Hyatt of the Embarcadero.  I stayed at the Hotel Solamar (thank you, sniqueaway) and was very pleased.  And proving that this is a small world, ran into a fellow residency classmate Jennie Law, who was there for an endocrinology conference.  

As for the food: 

Phil's BBQ **** - Funny story.  I went to pick my up car at Enterprise.  The guy behind the counter asked me if I needed directions.  I asked him if he knew about Phil's BBQ; he said it was close by and he loved the place.  And yes, he had been to Coachella.  I was becoming a fan of Coachella.  When I got to the parking lot, the guy asked me why I was in town.  I told him I was there for Coachella.  He also loved Coachella.  He immediately upgraded my compact car to an all-wheel SUV.  He also knew about Phil's BBQ.  I went and yes, it was worth the hype.  Thank you, Adam Richman.  El Toro, or the tri-tip sandwich, is the best BBQ I've had in 2011.  Unbelievably tender and delicious.  Next year, I hope to be at SHM 2012 in San Diego.  I will return here. 

Hash House a go go *** - Okay, I deviated from my plan to get a bacon-based dish.  But I couldn't resist the famous fried chicken behemoth.  Ridiculously huge.  I was happy to see any part of the plate then stop eating.  Delicious.  Great atmosphere.  Great menu.  Great music selection.  I shall return.  Note to self: there's also one in Las Vegas.

Lucha Libre Taco Shop **** - It is exactly what it sounds like.  I ordered the Surfin' California Burrito.  Holy awesomeness!  This was the best burrito I had ever had.  And I got to enjoy it while staring at lucha libre memorabilia.  They even had a champions booth you had to reserve.  Joel, if you're reading this, you'd love this place.  First meal when I return to San Diego will be back here!  Loved it!

Broken Yolk Cafe ** - Post-Coachella.  In fact, this was my first meal of the day after having driven back from Empire Polo Grounds to San Diego.  A good meal.  I had the omelet of the day.  Hit the spot.  Otherwise, not anything terribly memorable.  But after Coachella and after a long night and a long drive, I was quite happy for the change in conditions. 

I did have plans to hit up Hotel del Coronado once I got back from Coachella.  But once I set foot into The U.S. Grant Hotel, those goals faded.  The hotel was so beautiful and the hotel room and bed and shower such wonderful (relative) commodities after several days in the desert that I was content to never leave the room until check out.  That's what I did.  I ordered room service.  I slept.  I napped.  I watched TV.  It was awesome. 

To the scheduling gods above, please let me available for SHM 2012 in San Diego.  I have some unfinished business!

Trips: Coachella 2011 (Day 3)

I slept much better.  I owe Jessica, my neighbor, thanks.  She wondered why I had come to Coachella with such few items and few rations.  I think she pitied me and gave me a pillow and blanket to get through Saturday night.  So yes, I did sleep better.  Festivals make you appreciate the small things in life: pillows, blankets, mattresses, toilet paper, showers, air conditioning, and soap.  

Sunday was an even lazier morning.  Jessica and I talked about random things in life, including music, while her sister continued to sleep away.  Jessica chanted "Mmm bacon" as we both noticed that glorious odor emanating from a neighboring truck, from a guy making breakfast.  Jessica vowed to bring bacon and avocados to Coachella 2012.

If it was possible, it was even hotter on Sunday.  Though we were initially seated on lawn chairs between our trucks using her truck as shade, the sun's continued ascent put us in a bind.  Despite the struggle and initial failures, we managed to fashion a makeshift "tent" by repositioning our trucks and creating a canopy out of blankets, secured in place by anchoring them via closed windows or doors.  It wasn't pretty but it did the trick.  

I initially had my sights on Phosphorescent at 12:15 PM.  This didn't come to pass as I was still under our makeshift tent at that time.  I eventually went into the site when I could no longer hold my urine and figured I'd stick it out until the end.  

Jack's Mannequin - A new band to me.  Great pop music.  I listened to them from afar since they played at the shadeless Coachella stage.  I was happy to listen from afar underneath my favorite shady palm tree.  

City and Colour - I just listened to them for the first time, I believe, in Hawaii.  The album reminded me of Iron & Wine and Bon Iver when I first listened to them.  Great voice.  Great acoustic guitar player.  In fact, I was most glued when it was only him and his acoustic.  I wasn't alone in this; many men in the crowd professed their love (aloud) for this man.  I hope the success continues.  Such great potential here.  

Health - These guys rocked.  These guys reminded me of Japandroids and The Battles.  Energetic and angry and dissonant, but incredibly likable.  The first post-Coachella music I listened to once back in San Diego was in fact Health's Get Color.  Somehow these guys got it very right live.  Maybe they can teach Animal Collective a thing or two.

Best Coast - I stuck around only for a few songs since I decided to set up camp for the big finish at the Coachella main stage.  Best Coast sounded great, better live than on the album., which sounded a bit too hollow if that makes sense.  They play, they play well, and they're having fun.  Can't ask for more really. 

Death from Above 1979 - I thought The Black Keys were biggest sounding two-man outfit.  I was very wrong.  Enter Death from Above 1979.  Now, just focusing on the music, these guys are heavy, heavy metal and do fucking rock.  Hugely approve on first listen.  Now focusing on everything else: this was the angriest mob pit I had ever seen at a festival.  I was on the front rail but to the side and away from the center of action.  But from my vantage point, I could see the victims that decided to vacate the pit.  I have never seen so many girls in tears, guys with blood noses, guys in tears, and girls with bloody noses in my life.  The band seemed to relish in that fact.  They got louder and angrier as the set moved on.  It ended with such a weird moment.  They urged the crowd to stick around for Duran Duran, as they appeared to be huge fans. 

Duran Duran - To complete the blast from the past, David Hasselhoff entered the VIP area (the VIP entrance was literally five feet away from me). I had never been a huge fan per se and admittedly I was catching them and missing out on The National so I could be in a good position to see Duran Duran's follow-up acts, The Strokes and Kanye West.  But hey, they sounded good and hell, it was fun.  Plus, I got to high-five David Hasselhoff when he left at the end of the set.  The girl to my left didn't know how David Hasselhoff was.

 

The Strokes - Huge anticipation for The Strokes.  They definitely did not let us down.  Julian Casablancas seemed to be the right degree of inebriated: he was funny, he was singing well, and he wasn't stumbling around greatly.  Hammond kept pounding out the licks.  The crowd got rowdy as the hits wouldn't let up.  "Last Night" and "Reptilia" were belted out with more energy and perfection than at ACL.  And as much as I love Punch Brothers' cover, it's The Strokes' song.  They did their job.  They kicked our asses but had us perfectly set up for the final act: Kanye West. 

Kanye West - It's universal: we hate him as a person, but damn he can produce some great fucking music.  And you know what?  He knows how to put on a show.  Arcade Fire put on the perfect close to Saturday.  Kanye West put on a near perfect close to Coachella.  He knows how to build the drama and peak the crowd's excitement.  His entrance was jaw-dropping; with the crowd singing along "Can we get much higher?  So high!  Oh oh oh ..." he appears from the middle of a crowd, up on the air by a huge crane.  Every iPhone, Droid, and camera in Coachella was out. The entire set picked up steam.  With each song, we all realized "Shit, he has a lot of hits!"  Sure, there were the "old" hits but combined with the genius of the latest album, the show nearly had no weak point.  The crowd involvement was unreal for every song.  A particular moving moment, was when he took a moment to recognize the fans despite all his stupidities and how this festival has been the one show he has been looking forward to since his mother passed.  He put a lot into this performance and it showed.  Justin Vernon was a fantastic guest to have throughout the show.  As good as this show was, there was still some universal disappointment: with Usher, Katy Perry, and Rihanna only a few of the stars present at Coachella, it seemed shocking that there were no other guest appearances.  It's hard to pick a favorite moment: the beginning, any song off of the latest album, Power, Stronger, Gold Digger, Flashing Lights ... Ending with Hey Mama was perfect.  If Kanye was sincere, and I hope he was, than this was the perfect ending to his show.  Amazing show. 

Back to the camp site.  More reminiscing.  Many of my neighbors had already left by the time I got to my car.  Jessica and her sister came back so we took town our makeshift canopy tent.  They had to leave.  I decided to turn in.  I woke up early, 6 AM to be exact, and thankfully, made for a quick and painless departure.

When I made my way back to the car, everyone was greeting other with "Happy Coachella!  See you next year!"  Amen to a great Coachella 2011!