Tuesday, September 13, 2011

In Ithaca

I forgot how good food is in Kuwait. Is my point of view a subjective qualification or is it one that reflects adaptation with age? I feel that my micro-culture, the one that extends around me, has fostered a superb appreciation for the culinary arts. I reflect about this as I linger around Ithaca, NY in the evenings, after I'm done with training. I wasn't sure what to expect but all I can say is that I hope the meal I hope to have on Friday will make it better. I went to a place that advertised itself as "Korean BBQ" on its entrance, however was disappointed to find out that their recommendation was fried rice with beef. I was too hungry, I ordered it. A plate with rice, frozen chopped vegetables, questionable beef and a black lagoon of stained mushy vegetables. The side of pickled radish (i believe), raw onions and drop of black bean paste/sauce. I ate most because I was starving, and it didn't necessary offend as much as underwhelm. I miss my kitchen, I miss Pataya Beach. 

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