history wit wiz

I've lived nearly half of my existence and all of my adult life in the Philly area - but last weekend I became a tourist of my own town. If you're like me, you usually avoid these tourist traps and chuckle at fanny-packed and camera-necklaced visitors ogling costumed Ben Franklins as they shuffle around town. It all changes when you have out-of-town friends visiting and they want to see "typical" Philly.

So, with cameras around our necks (no fanny-packs), we took our Japanese friends on a textbook tour of the illadelph. It was literally textbook because we checked off nearly every destination in their tourbook. Rocky statue and the Art Museum area, all of the historical spots around Independence hall, and a nightcap at Pat's Steaks. I haven't seen the Liberty Bell since I was a little kid - but its still amazing how one bell served as a symbol for so many movements including Women's suffrage and the Civil Rights Movement. I relearned a bit of history as I visited Betsy Ross' house and the Carpenter's hall for the first time. My Japanese friend has a great admiration for the American revolution - commenting that revolting against the British served as a basis for the strong character of American people. We can add slavery and destruction of Native American lives to that foundation...but I decided to keep his view rosy.

Sometimes its easy to forget that the U.S. is still a relatively young country. What seems like ancient history to me, is modern history to our Japanese friends. As a sidebar, it was interesting to learn about the nature of high-school history classes in Japan. Many Japanese don't get in-depth lessons in modern Japanese history in schools - purely because their history is sooooo long. Lots of events, eras and emperors to cram in there.

We stood in line at Pat's for 45 minutes to get a famous cheesesteak with dripping liquid cheeze whiz. I haven't had a cheesesteak for more than a year (and my heart thanks me for that). My friends were too intimidated to order for themselves - as there are specific rules on how to order. Think of Seinfeld's Soup Nazi - but substitute soup for cheesesteak. So, I ordered "4 whiz wits" (translation: 4 cheeze whizzed cheesesteaks wit onions) handed my pre-ready money and stepped to the next window for pickup. There is a sign detailing the proper ordering process complete with lingo translation. If you mess up, you gotta go to the back of the line. And this line was 50 people deep. I told our friends that next time they can order for themselves and they grinned nervously.

parade

Loved Mayor Nutter's plea for philadelphians to have fun but not to act like jackasses.

phinally!

I'm not a native Philadelphian, but I've been in the area long enough to understand the suffering of its sports fans. Part of the reason why I rooted for the Phillies was to shut up all the crying and whining and defeatist attitude. The other reason is that the Phillies are a bunch of likeable guys. 25 years of championship-less frustration just got released with the Phillies winning the 2008 World Series. Amazingly, the city escaped the celebrations unscathed.

phils

While waiting in line at the post office earlier this year, I notice one of the postal workers eyeing me up and whipering to his colleague. I checked the "Wanted" signs to see if I resembled any criminals (My wife always begs me to grow my hair and one of her reasons is that many criminals in police sketches share my hairstyle. They look just like you. What if some racist cops pick you up for that? Please grow your hair!) As I approach the counter, the post office guy stares and smiles at me, "For a while there I thought you were Shane Victorino. I was whispering to my buddy that we should ask for an autograph or something..."

Why am I sharing this? I just want to give my props to the 5'7" "Flyin' Hawaiian" Shane Victorino for killin' it in the MLB playoffs. Grand slam off Sabathia in the divisional round and a game-tying homer against the Dodgers to help the Phillies to a 3-1 lead in the NLCS. And isn't Matt Stairs the perfect sports hero for Philly? He looks like every other portly middle aged plumber in South Philly.

chinatown

Video tour and history of Chinatown in Philly. My old stomping grounds when I was in college. I shared a townhouse apartment (3 floors and a basement) on 9th & Spring. Played pickup bball right across our place and attended a couple masses at Holy Redeemer on Vine st. Loved all the good cheap restaurants and their late night hours - which was especially convenient because I don't remember sleeping much back then. As a kid, there's nothing like walking around at 2am on the streets and grabbing a bite to eat.

city of brotherly thugs

Lots of drama on the streets of Philly. 6 Philadelphia policemen were captured on videotape beating, kicking and punching 3 suspects in a drug-related shooting. Not suprisingly, this case of police brutality follows the killing of a police officer last week.

yakitori boy

Yakitori Boy is a restaurant/bar and karaoke club that recently opened in Philly's Chinatown. Its the first Japanese establishment in this neighborhood and uniquely serves "Japas" - you guessed it: Japanese tapas. These type of joints are common in Japan and the after-work crowd relish in eating small dishes that perfectly complement the need to get drunk after a hectic workday. My brother-in-law took us to a joint near Tokyo and we found ourselves among the hectic salaryman crowd drinking and eating away their stress.

Upon entering Yakitori Boy, I found myself agreeing with a reviewer who commented that the decor was reminiscent of the movie "Lost in Translation". The interior is dimly lit with Japanese styled beamed structures framing the private booth area. The bar and tabled seating areas are ultramodern and minimal.

On to the food. I was encouraged to be served by a Japanese waitress and welcomed the complimentary edamame. The sushi was a little underwhelming - not so fresh or up to the standards of Morimoto or Genji. I enjoyed the okonomyaki - a pancake filled with shrimp, octopus, bonito flakes and various vegetables topped with sauce and mayonnaise. Lots of stuff going on in this dish - but its went perfectly with my Asahi. Their specialty Yakitori dish (photo above courtesy of philadining.com) features meatballs, gizzards, and beef on skewers. Gizzards were a little tough but the meatballs melted in your mouth. Lots of flavors and spices going on. Again...perfect to eat with beer. The portions are fairly generous and cheap.

The food is adequate if not mind-blowing but I came away seeing Yakitori Boy as more about the experience than the food. Chinatown needs a hip place to drink and lounge at and you'll enjoy getting tipsy and eating perfectly complementary "Japas". You almost expect Bill Murray to be sipping some Suntory in the corner or singing some Elvis Costello in the karaoke lounge upstairs.

amada

I've heard glowing reviews from friends and colleagues about Amada restaurant in Old City, but I never got around to making a visit. Suprisingly it lived up to the hype.

Amada's floor plan flows freely between 3 open rooms - encouraging a loud communal experience. The interior features plenty of Spanish reds and browns - wood slab tables, shelves of canned Spanish ingredients and hangers with sections of covered pork hanging near the long tapas bars which define each room. Our table was in the back room which was much quieter, romantic and cozy. This setting was more Mediterranean or almost Turkish - especially when seated in plush couch chairs with a couple soft pillows underneath our asses.

We picked 6 simple dishes and there was not one misstep. The ensalada verde with asparagus, avocado and green beans was a refreshing way to start things off. My wife's favorite was the chorizo blanco - razor thin slices of sausage with bread and side offerings of spicy mustard and peppers. I was surprised the octopus dish offered no indication of octopus. It was basically diced into medallions but the smokey flavor was delicious nonetheless. The calamari was tender and retained a Mediterranean essence in its preparation. The sirloin was top notch and the lobster stew was a wonderful combination of flavors.

The desserts were heavenly. And I don't use that word commonly. The Pastel De Calabaza is a moist pumpkin cake with a side of tart fruit sauce and bay leaf ice cream with pumpkin seeds. The Banana Torrijas is a carmelized bread with bananas bathed in a sinful anglaise with a side of maple syrup ice cream. I prefer moist cakes and creamy desserts, so I was basically licking off the plates.

I love tapas and Amada is as good as it gets. Like MacArthur, I will return - simply to try the rest of the menu.

chinese new year

Happy Chinese New Year! Seeing New Year's parades in Chinatown always reminds me of the years I spent living there. I shared a house with 4 roomates for 2 years during college. Rent was cheap. Food was cheap and available everywhere at any hour. We were surrounded by a Chinese church/school, an assisted living residence for elderly Chinese, mom & pop corner stores and cheap karaoke bars. Gangs weren't so visible if you lived straight but the occasional group of punks were ubiquitous. We lived off a small side street that was well lit - probably too well lit. Streetlamps streaked through my bedroom window and it was rarely quiet. I remember sleeping very little and at odd hours.

The noisiest nights surround Chinese New Year, transforming the soundscape into a warzone until dawn. Kids run the streets recklessly throwing firecrackers - sometimes under passing cars to shake people up. The smell of powder lingers in the air the next morning as the aftermath litters streets in a sea of red firecracker debris. Its a vibrant red that accents the Dragon dance that attracts followers as it winds itself around each block. I probably gained more appreciation for these events as I moved out of Chinatown and I hope to catch some of the festivities this weekend.

beau monde

My wife is on the hunt for antiques - specifically vintage pyrex and fire king collectibles. I'm not the type of person that frequents antique shops or thrift stores. I like new stuff. New stuff makes me happy. But I can appreciate the charming designs that adorn these pieces from the 70's and before. So we've been dipping into little shops around South Jersey and last Sunday we hit up some places on South St. in Philly. I thought it would be nice to take a little shopping trip before I submerged myself into the Super Bowl later that evening. We didn't end up finding anything in great condition but found some pieces for inspiration. And we had a conversation with a saleswoman who had the thickest South Philly accent. Difficult to describe it in writing but very distinct to the ear.

Then we landed at Beau Monde, a French creperie with a cozy bar populated by artsy folk. The interior is elegantly parisian with tall windows overlooking 6th and Bainbridge streets. From what I hear, these crepes are pretty authentic - paper thin and non-spongy wheaty envelopes filled with goodness. The taste is fairly light and restrained. You'll feel satisfied but you won't feel the guilty need to work out afterwards.

The menu offers savory style crepes with buckwheat flour and an assortment of fillings - bacon, ham, eggs, andouile sausage, mushroom, salmon, trout, goat cheese. Then there are the desert crepes with wheat flour filled with fruits and topped with nutella or whipped cream. So we ordered one of each and shared to get the best of both worlds. The ham, egg and cheese crepe is a simple yet perfect breakfast meal and the assorted berry crepe with chantilly cream provided a delicious desert mix of sour and sweetness.

bar ferdinand

Headed out for a work outing in the newly gentrified end of Northern Liberties in Philly. The artists and musicians that have flooded the area in recent years have been joined by trendy hipsters. You'll still find the occasional vacant lot, but many are being converted into the flavor-of-the-month hot spot - much to the property valued delight of nearby homeowners.

I joined my coworkers for some tapas at Bar Ferdinand. The rustic Spanish-inspired interior warmly welcomed me from the bitter cold as I settled in with a tall glass of Alhambra beer. Its loud, dimly lit yet visually vibrant with rich splashes of gold, red and wood. Lots of arches, and tiled frescoes of bulls and bullfighters. Sounds predictable but its effective - and it doesn't go overboard into theme park territory. Our group of 20 dominate the long table at the center of the room. The dining area is cozy but the loungy couches at the corners and an expansive bar creates a spacious feeling.

Started off with a watercress and goat cheese salad with a splash of citrus dressing. Nice and light...but I'm here for the tapas. Bar Ferdinand's offerings were tiny but delicious. The eggplant empanadas were a definite highlight. The tender egglplant, lentils and sauce just melted wonderfully within the light pastry exterior. Calamari - didn't blow me away but was decent. The simple yet creamy filled ham croquettes worked well in bite-size. I saved the best for last with small cuts of seared lamb with citrus yogurt and Moroccan relish. I finished wanting more...but the cheesecake finished me off in the end. All in all, a rewarding dining experience - good food, beautiful setting and a sociable ambience. The tapas menu is pretty extensive, so I'm sure I'll make a return visit - without the drunk coworkers!

sky's the limit?

Photos of the yet to be finished Comcast Center courtesy of phillyskyline.com. Skyscrapers were once symbols of progress and optimism. Hopefully Michael Nutter's optimism can bring some sweeping changes when he takes over as mayor of Philadelphia. It was a strange mayoral campaign in which the outcome was never in doubt and both Democrat and Republican candidates. Its hard to disagree on the fact that outgoing mayor John Street was taking the city down the wrong path. I can only shake my head when remembering his failed "Safe Streets" program - especially in light of all the national attention on Philly's murder rate.

cebu

Tonight we dined at "Cebu" - a restaurant & bar in Old City Philadelphia that advertises itself as "Filipino cuisine with Spanish flair". I learned of their existence late last year as I was finding my way to Cuba Libre. One of Cebu's street team members handed me a glossy half page flyer. I was intrigued - not only because Filipino restaurants are rare in our area, but I was curious to see how it would fit into this location. Old City is known for attracting a trendy crowd searching for the next overpriced hot spot. In my experience with Filipino restaurants, I've only frequented cheap (but delicious) turo-turo or homestyle joints. Perhaps knowing that Filipino cuisine may be a mystery to many Americans (I've fielded many questions as well), Cebu pushes the fusion and tapas aspect as its selling point. This made me skeptical about the authenticity of the menu, but I remained open-minded since I read that the owners are indeed filipino. After more research, I discovered that Jamie Foxx held his after-concert party at Cebu. Hmm...not sure what to think of that...

Upon approaching the location, we see the same street team guy working 2nd street. This time he's handing out menus. As he starts reciting his spiel, I reassure him that we already have reservations. I push through the tall doors and find that its not terribly busy especially for a Saturday night. I wonder if they are struggling to find customers. However, the streets did seem a little lighter in traffic - maybe everyone is down the shore.

I turn my attention to the interior. There is no real sense of identity in its design. The lack of any cultural references (a la Alma de Cuba) was disappointing but it is anonymously pretty and spacious nonetheless. The nightclub-ish lighting actually fits in with the tromp d'oeil accents, sky high ceiling and upbeat Spanish music (what no filipino tunes??). The overall feeling is wonderfully expansive, yet strangely I feel cramped in our immediate seating section. I enjoyed looking around the open spaces in the distance, but the waiters had to turn sideways to walk between us and the next table. I was also disappointed in the small numbers of pinoys in the staff - the service was adequate but lacking in warmth. I wasn't expecting our customary hugs and cheek-kisses, but filipinos are known to be very welcoming hosts. Our latina waitress was professional but her knowledge of filipino cuisine seemed studied and limited. Then I noticed an Italian waiter nearby comparing the tapas to dim-sum. I envisioned the white people at the table spreading another misconception to their friends and co-workers.

I've read some reviews after the fact which trashed Cebu's offerings as non-authentic or suffering from an identity-crisis. It would be foolish to expect authenticity from an upscale fusion restaurant. The overall taste is decent. The one glaring misstep on our selection was our sole spanish selection of tuna ceviche (my wife loves ceviche). However it ended up as three slices of tuna with wasabi sitting on some leafy lettuce. My paella with its assortment of adobo, sausage, mussels, clams and scallops was excellent - the flavoring was spot on.

For dessert, the flan was a little too eggy and hard. It also missed the caramel sauce which adds the necessary sweetness. The halo-halo was tasty...but it was bastardized. It was not served in a tall glass overflowing with shaved ice. No straw either! It came in a short wide glass with the proper beans and ingredients but had more or a milky, ice-creamy feel. It tasted great but I missed the joy of crushing the shaved ice and slurping up the drink. A trio of filipinos walked by my table and made passing comments in tagalog about my faux halo-halo. My rough translation amounted to "Hahaha that's their halo-halo?!"

I can only label my experience at Cebu as uneven. I enjoyed my food, but I can see where hardcore or old school pinoys would be turned off. The small crowd included some young, trendy white people mixed in with a couple filipino families wearing shorts and sneakers. I suspect these pinoys were hoping for a homestyle meal and a tagalog conversation with the waiter. It did feel strange dropping $100 for a fusioned imitation of food that I ate for free growing up at my parents house or at parties hosted by some tito or tita. Maybe filipino food isn't the best fit for an upscale type of joint. Walking out the restaurant past the hardworking Cebu street team dude, I remembered the time when my wife asked my father why there aren't that many filipino restaurants. My dad replied simply that filipino food is best served at home.

summertime ramblings

Summertime in Jersey. Not exactly a paradise... but we do what we can. Summer is all about hitting the Jersey shore. Friday afternoon traffic from the bridges across Philly to all southbound routes are maddening. We used to enjoy the quiet calmness and family atmosphere of Ocean City. But nowadays we opt for the outlet shopping, slots and dining in Atlantic City. Since our return from Vegas, we've been dreaming like degenerates that AC would adopt the relentless development of Sin City and provide us with endless amounts of empty fun!
More summertime traditions - bouncing out of work early and grabbing a mango gelati at Rita's Water Ice. Nothing's sweeter than that mix of mango water ice and creamy vanilla ice cream! Taking trips to the ghetto-fied attraction known as Great Adventure...or dipping in and out of malls. That's culture baby!

Years ago, summer in philly was about rockin' jeans shorts to your ankles with a fresh pair of white kicks and hitting the meat market known as South St. Twirling some newly bagged sneaker boxes from Samsun and grabbing a slice of Lorenzo's. Or driving along Kelly drive blasting Fresh Prince's "Summertime" (of course) cheering on bikers, runners and rollerbladers who braved the heat. Or waiting for next game of pick up ball - dribbling and watching the scene through a chain linked fence. Or catching a mindless summer blockbuster for the mere purpose of staying cool from summer in the city.

Last night we caught a late night showing of the forgettable "Pirates of the Carribean 3" flick. The sillyness of the movie was washing away from our senses as we stepped outside of the theater past midnight. When we pushed through the doors, we were greeted by a rush of warm late night air embodies summertime.

Me and SEPTA go way back man...

On a recent Saturday drive into Philly, I found myself gripping the steering wheel and cursing any obstacle which delayed the impossible mission of finding an open parking spot. Damn this city needs more parking! I circled blocks and blocks for seemingly hours in defiance of overpriced parking garages - swerving around treacherous potholes, oblivious pedestrians, and farting SEPTA buses.

At this point, public transportation seemed romantic ... as nostalgia for my college days of assorted bus and subway rides rumbled through my senses. Driving in the city can be maddening. Driving a daily commute through the jersey suburbs can be as isolating as it is convenient. As I smile at a group of backpacked kids urgently disappearing down the subway stairs, I remember the youthful freedom of jumping on and off the train on random Saturdays and pounding the pavement in sync with the heartbeat of the city to explore different locales.

Then there was the C bus that ran up and down Broad St. As an avid people-watcher, I found this daily commute to be eternally ripe with an intriguing and diverse crop of characters. For me, it was reality TV before Reality TV. I switched my attention from person to person like I switch TV channels on the remote - imagining their background stories and their final destinations. Greeting the same people at the same time each day with our non-verbal acknowledgments became akin to seeing old friends. Funny thing is I probably wouldn't recognize these familiar faces outside of the bus or train. But even when rides became overcrowded and chaotic, I could always manage to close my eyes and find some solitude to meditate, reflect and process my thoughts. In other words, thoughts on girls, music and sports (I never claimed that I was a deep kid).

No, I'm not overlooking the piss-stained stairways and rat-infested tracks of the subway or the delayed pickups at the bus stops. I haven't forgotten the awkwardness of having strangers sleep on your shoulder or seeing guns getting pulled on late night rides or hearing my friend's story of the masterbating hobo...but I still smile when I remember these stories.

As I finally find my parking spot miles away from where I need to be, I find myself walking behind a kid who reminded me of myself back in the day. Just substitute the Discman for an iPod and the Nautica & Tommy Hill for L-R-G & a Bape-inspired hoodie. The kid spots a sneaker shop and disappears. I check my watch...and seeing that I'm already running late, I decide to dip in right after him to check out the kicks. What's a few more minutes of being young at heart?

The Roots - Push Up Ya Lighter