Lucban Longganisa - Me and my favorite sausage!!

Lucban,  Quezon is a town at the foot of Mt. Banahaw. It is 3 hours from Manila. It is known for the Pahiyas Festival in May. It is also known for it's relatively cool climate.  Cuisine speaking, they are also known for their biscuits, pancit habhab, kiping (dried thin rice cakes that line the houses during the fiestas and then are fried to a crisp) and of course their longganisa.

We frequented Lucban in the 80's because my dad has close friends with the Pavino family. They own the famous Pavino's bakery shop at the corner near the plaza. We used to buy Lucban Longganisas by the dozens before. I can say that I have had my fair share of Lucban longganisas my whole life. I also purchase Lucban longganisa's from the Magallanes shell station and also from supermarkets.

The lucban longganisa's  primary ingredients are pork, garlic, pimenton, oregano and sausage casing. I watched how it's done and mainly its just mixing the ingredients, passing it on a food processor and stuffing them into the casing. They are then left to  hang and dry.

There are several lucban longganisas makers that were scattered all around the town. I must've eaten 8 different kinds of lucban longganisa in 2 days.  I must say that you can really see the difference between the longganisas. Some are indeed better than the others. I have judged the longganisas with these criteria.

1. Pork Meat - if it has sinews or "litid", amount of fat, if the pork is minced into cubes or ground
2. Garlic - flavor of the garlic, if the garlic is still noticeable
3. Pimenton - the color and flavor of the pimenton, this is what gives the reddish hue
4. Casing - if its artificial or natural



Here are my thoughts. Lucban longganisas has really regressed. What I ate in Lucban during my trip were really inferior than what I've tasted before.  The longganisas before was better because they used minced cubed meat before. When you fried the longganisas and sliced into them, the meat was chunky. What I liked about them before was when you cooked the longganisa into a crisp, the tiny cubes of fat were "tostado" or crispy.  The crispy fat bits was good and it added another aspect to the longganisa.

The casing also had changed. Now they use synthetic sausage casing. They used pigs intestines before and that also added another element into the lucban longganisa. It was far more flavorful that the synthetic casing. When fried into a crisp, it was like eating a stuffed chicharon bituka. It was heavenly.

The longganisa lucban today is still good.  The flavor of the oregano and the pimenton still makes it unique. It's just not as good as the ones before.

The shop that I can say makes the best lucban longganisa is the one near the church. If your facing the church,  its in the street in the left. There are two shops near each other. The better one is the one that looks like s small souvenir shop. There is no mistaking the shop because it's the one that has the longganisas hanging from bamboo rods across the room. If you're lucky you might even catch them while their making the longganisa.

They cost around P80 for a dozen of the small ones. Best served with sinangag, atsara and double yolk egg!!!

Strange but True

I'm going to start ranting now. I will finally document all the ridiculously absurd request, complaints and true stories I've encountered in my several years in the food business. . Non-fiction tales about ridiculous requests and extremely irrational and idiotic people that I've come across with in my years in the restaurant business.

Tale 1: "Baby Back Ribs"

I was the Executive Chef in an American-themed restaurant in Taguig. One of our specialties was falling-off-the-bones baby back ribs. The recipe I learned and copied from the multinational American-concept restaurant I worked for a few years back.

One day, I was asked by the waiter to leave the kitchen because we had a complaint from a guest. Naturally, as the executive chef, I was obliged to leave my kitchen and see what was wrong. I approached the table and asked politely what was wrong. Two elderly, matronic, full of make-up, bad hair color, looks like the mom of a famous filipino boxer type ladies were staring at me. One of them started to complain.

Elder Matrona: "Hijo, ang panget ng pagkagawa ng ribs, sobrang lambot"

Me: "Ma'am that's the way we like to prepare the ribs...falling-off-the-bone"

Elder Matrona 2: "Hindi dapat ganyan, dapat nakadikit pa sa buto, hindi ganito...(shakes the ribs and the ribs gently slide off the bone"...wala ka na makagat at wala ka na mangatngat sa buto...masarap yung ningangatngat sa buto"

Kasi naman eh, dapat sabihin ng waiter kaagad na poodle na kamukha ni Cruella de Ville ang papakainin ko. Hindi po inihaw na liempo yung inorder niyo. Gaga.

Tale 2: Adidas or Peace Sign

To all readers. I know it's fun to share. Sometimes it's nice to try all the items in the menu. But please, for the love of Christ, never ever split a burger into three. It's impossible. Take a bite. Pass it around. It's that simple. Kawawa naman yung burger kung hihiwain sa 3. Kung peace sign or adidas style!!

Tale 3: High Blood

One busy lunchtime at the Filipino-themed concept restaurant I worked for in a posh mall in Makati.

Same routine. Waiters call for me and says that there is a customer complaint.

Customer 1: "Chef, iluto mo naman ako ng bagoong na walang alat para ibagay ko sa kare-kare, kasi high blood ako"

Eh gago ka naman pala eh, una walang hindi maalat na bagoong at pangalawa kung may high blood ka, huwag kare-kare orderin mo!!

Tale 4: Konti Lang Naman eh.....

One nice singaporean guest requests that he talk to the manager or the person in charge. Since I was the chef I obliged.

Singaporean Guest: "Good evening sir, what would be a nice non-alcoholic cocktail to start my meal?"

Me: "Sir, since I'm the chef, I think the bartender would be a better person to talk to with regards to your request"

I call on the bartender. The Singaporean guest adamantly requests that he shouldn't be served any kind of alcohol. He is extremely allergic to alcohol. The guest, the bartender and I firmly agreed that there shouldn't be any alcohol involved.So, the bartender nods and promises to give him a nice personalized cocktail.

After a few minutes, the bartender comes out with a beautiful cocktail. Nice frothy top. Swirl of color. Complete with an umbrella. Guest is really happy. We are all happy. I return to the kitchen.

After a few minutes.  Frantic waiter comes along, "sir, may problema, yung guest na singaporean namumula at parang di makahinga"

I proceed to the kitchen and see a choking, coughing and panicking Singaporea...in tears screaming. "There is alcohol in the drink...(choke)...(cough)....there is alcohol in my drink!!!!"

We waste no time and have somebody send him to the hospital. I immediately confronted the bartender.

Me: "Ano nangyari? Ano nilagay mo sa cocktail niya?"

Bartender: "Sir? Nilagyan ko ng pineapple juice, orange juice at konting coconut milk."

Me: "Yun lang? Sigurado ka?"

Bartender: "Opo, yun lang at tsaka yung konting creme de menthe liquor pang kulay."

Me: Shouting and enraged. "ANO???! Nilagyan mo ng creme de menthe liquor? Di ba sabi natin walang alcohol"

Bartender: "Sir naman, huwag niyo po ako sigawan, konti lang naman nilagay ko, pang kulay lang!"

Siya pa galit! Bobo, ano bang parte ng bawal ang alcohol ang hindi mo naintindihan!!!



Tale 5: Wrong Side of the Table

Busy afternoon weekend lunch. A big group of 15 requests for a long table. A family and some "mannies" and goons. We arrange three connecting four tops for the long table. Their first order ticket is 15 orders deep. 5 appetizers and 10 entrees. In 20 minutes we were able to serve out all the orders. After an hour and a half. I get another call from the server telling me that a customer was complaining about the steak and he will not pay for it.

Me: "Good afternoon sir, what seems to be the problem, is there anything wrong with the food?"

Customer (mustached, dark and hefty, broken english):  "There is nothing wrongs with the food. Everything is good. But I will not pay por the i-steak."

Me: "What was the problem with the steak sir?"

Customer: "I dont know."

Me: "The doneness? Was it tough?"

Customer: "I dont know"

Me: "You don't know? What do you mean I don't know sir?"

Customer: " I don't know because it was served in the other side op the table and that was por me!!!! The waiter did not fass me the i-steak!The other people prom that side op the table pinished the i-steak!!"

Me: "Did you ask the waiter to pass you the steak?"

Customer: "Is that my problem? The waiter should know to get the i-steak and give me a piece of steak because I'm paying por everything!! I will not pay por dis stupid steak. STUPID WAITER!!"

Mahal ang sweldo ng waiter na psychic!! True story. 'Na mo. Kung sino ka man po kayo.

Tale 5: Another Steak Story

Written in the ticket.

Customer Request
Rib-Eye Steak:  Half-Well Done/Half Rare
Serve whole Do not slice.

Not a typo. The customer who was a dad wanted a prime rib steak that was well done on the left side and rare on the right side for his son. Kahit na si El Bulli at sa French Laundry hindi kaya gawin yun!!

Other restaurant anecdotes:

1. When you split a bowl of soup into three, huwag mag-complain pag konti na lang yung na-serve!!

2. Be honest. If the last order that came in and you feel that you ordered too much. Please don't complain or make false accusations that you want that dish returned because it was not done right or something was wrong with that dish. You ordered it. PAY FOR IT!!

3. If you're running late for a movie. Please don't order a steak well done and expect it to be done in 5 minutes. Order a soup and a salad instead!!

4. There was never or ever will be a binagoongan that has no salt or liempo na no-fat!

5. Don't be insulted if the waiter laughs after you ordered a tokwa't baboy na walang tokwa. Just order TOKWA!!

6. We will gladly prepare out-of-menu orders for you. But don't tell us to prepare a dish ala-(name of restaurant) way. If you want it cooked that way. GO TO THAT RESTAURANT!!

7. Yaya's and help are people too. Share the food that you ordered for yourselves.  Don't order a P1.5k Prime Rib for yourself and a P750 Baby Back rib for your barely-solid-food-fresh-from-gerber-eating-toddler then ask the waiter if they have dish less than P150 for the yaya!!


8. For the parent's and also the yaya's. We all know that kids cannot stay in one place. There are a lot of places in the restaurant where it's safe to let the kids play or walk around. But unfortunately the kitchen exit door where the food comes out is not really a good place to loiter in.  When you see a door that has waiters carrying trays of hot food coming out, it may not be a bad idea to tell little syoti/syobe/bunso to get the fuck out of the way and play somewhere else!!!

9. Is tossing a salad (no sexual innuendos here) really that difficult? Is it? seriously? Do you really have to return and ask the kitchen/waiters to toss that fucking salad?

10. Big glass windows are very nice in a restaurant. It makes the restaurant feel spacious and less enlcosed. Glass windows are the in thing now. So when we clean the shit out of the glass and its almost transparent, its the way it should be. So when your little toddler or your almost legally blind lolo hits his head walking through glass. It's not our fault!!!!

11. When restaurants are busy and successful, they usually have a "wait" list that is on a first come first serve basis.  Don't expect to be put on list first just because you're an actress, a politician, a celebrity and an FHM model. People will be seated ahead of you because they came in FIRST!!Regardless for who they are. Don't create a scene or post a tweet that you'll never come back at a certain restaurant because they didn't give you a table for 15 on a busy friday night!!!!

12. If you are confined in a hospital more so importantly if billeted  in the private suite of the  hospital you have no right to berate and humiliate  the hospital chef  if you find the poached fish fillet bland or "matabang" especially if the doctor has instructed a "no meat, no salt, no sugar, no spicy, no oil" diet for your old sick ass!

13. Lastly, when the table beside you is laughing out loud and having fun. If they are not being mean and rowdy let them be.. Life should have more of gregarious fun and bellyaching laughter.  Having a great time with great food, great friends and family is what life should be all about!! So if you find it too noisy, don't complain and ask the waiter to tell the other table to tone it down. Leave the restaurant and continue living your sorry excuse of a life.

I'm so sorry for you if you find yourself similar to the ones I've written about. Change. If you continue your assholic ways. You might just hear the chef's in the kitchen clearing their throats and make unusual spitting sounds.You might just find your burger, pasta or sandwich's sauce a little peculiar with a different consistency and just really can't put a finger on.



.

A foodie first...a chef second!!

A foodie first...a chef second!!

I'm a foodie first...a chef second. Let's make that clear. Unfortunately, I'm a better eater than a cook. I'd rather be in the cool and comfortable other side of the restaurant. I'd rather eat the food than cook the food. I became a chef so I can work closely with food. Food is my passion. I started at a very early age.  I cooked really out of necessity and part curiosity. Our yaya (household help)  was a good cook.. During summer when we had no school, she prepared a wide array of dishes. On her repertoire she prepared pork liempo, pork chop, chicken, tanigue or tuna steaks. There was only one problem, she prepared it one way....turbo broiled. She could turbobroil the shit out of chicken, pork chop and my personal favorite was the crispy pata. Basic recipe was.to marinate in Knorr and sprinkled with salt and pepper.  Cooked to crispy perfection. It was simple. Too simple. That recipe was maybe borne out of sheer lack of creativity and effort. No thinking and also not much washing of pots and pans. Wasdh meat, sprinkle with knorr then place in turbo broiler.  It was ok at first but after two weeks and right just before holy week. You'd get sick of it.

That's when I started to cook. I was sick of her food and wanted better food. I had no choice but to learn how to cook. I watched my yaya intently when she cooked. My first dishes were breakfast foods. I fried hotdogs and luncheon meat. I learned how to saute by cooking corned beef and sardines. As my skills became better, I tried more things. I cooked home made pizzas, different kind of spaghettis and tried different things with my early repertoire of ingredients like ham, spam, hotdog and corned beef.  I sauteed the hotdogs with onions and added ketchup, worcestershire sauce and sugar to create a more saucy hotdog dish. I fried the spam and ham with sugar to have  a crisp sweet coat. A dish that my sister still adored until now. I made spam fried rice with peas, carrots and eggs. I felt that I didnt have to go to the sticky old panciteria in chinatown to eat my favorite yung chow fried rice.   I loved the dishes I created. I could probably beat the shit out of the Junior Masterchefs. Hmm. If they had a spam category.

As I got older I became bolder.  I remember clearly how I spent my Saturday mornings. I would wait for my mom who usually would do her marketing chores during saturdays and forage into her goods and see what I can cook for lunch. Every weekend would be like that. The cook would be pissed because by Wednesday I would've cooked all the food that was supposed to be for the whole week.  One thing cool was that my mom didn't care. She was very supportive of it. My  friends too. As I got into adolescence, I never learned to drink. It just wasnt for me. As we all know, high school was the time for parties and all night drinking. In order for me not be left out during the "inuman's" or drinking sessions, I cooked different “pulutans” or drinking food. I learned how to make kilawin, marinated raw fish. I cooked gambas, mushroom ala jillo, lechon kawali, cripy pata and other kinds of drinking food. My friends loved it. So instead of going to bars my friends would rather just stay at our house and drink. And eat a lot too.

Before college, I already asked my parents if I can enroll in a hotel and restaurant school abroad. My parents questioned what would be my career path. We belonged to a family of bankers and corporate professionals. They made me a deal that if I gave them a college diploma first then I could follow this "whim" of being a chef. So I did, I graduated  and gave them a diploma. I worked odd jobs for my first two years after graduation. I worked in a credit card company and also sold cars for a European car brand. I was in hell. I wasn't happy. I sucked at all of them. I was fired from work and was sent to the US to find myself. My visa was expiring and it needed to have it stamped to make renewals easier.  I was supposed to go to the states and actually try it out. My parents thought it  would be good for me to go to the states and try to be independent. We had lot of relatives and family friends my age who tried their hands in "hiding" in the states. Another trip to San Francsico. I was really excited and my head was filled with late nights at strip clubs at Broadway Street, shopping at Gilroy and all day NBA games on TV!!

Little did I know that this trip would change my life forever. On the first weekend of my stay, my relatives brought me to Napa Valley in Northern California. I wasn't really excited about this excursion. I was never into wine and seeing vineyards and wineries were a little too aloof for my taste then. I would’ve rather been at the mall checking out the sale racks at the Banana Rep or Kenneth Cole store or watching the NBA.
I happily trudged along and went with them.  After and hour or so after we left, It was obvious that we were in Napa Valley because the barren mountains and the sight of the sea was replaced by acres and acres of vineyards. It was beautiful but it wasn't jaw dropping exciting for me. I wouldn't sleep over it if ever we decided to come back. All that was in my mind was...Where we gonna eat?  Lunch at a nice vineyard that also had a picnic ground and a deli. We spent lunch there. After a few hours we decide to go home. Immediately I fell asleep in the car.  A few minutes afterward, i was rudely awakened by my cousin. He slowed down and showed me a place just side of the road. It was a sight I would never forget. There was an old huge structure that looked like an old castle or a fortress. In front of the old building was a vegetable garden. In the vegetable garden were people who were picking the fruits and the vegetables. My cousin told me that that place was the Culinary Institute of America and the people who were outside were culinary students. We went inside. I took a peek.the place seemed like a beehive. It was so busy. So exciting.  There was a huge mess hall in the middle and all around that were a wave of activities. You can see frantic students in their chef's uniforms running around like chicken with out heads. Chef instructors with their booming voices shouting various instructions.  Waiters and servers running around with food trays and drinks almost or in near tears. It was chaos. Amidst all of that, I glanced upon the dinner tables and the food trays. The sights of different colorful and delicious looking dishes were all around. They were magnificent. They were amazing.  I was awestruck. Something in me just exploded. It may be cliche but it literally felt like I was struck by lightning.  All my feelings of wonder, being lost and doubt was set aside.  A rushing wave of emotions came into me. Oh my God!! A chef!!! That's what I wanna be!!

I quickly inquired and asked how much the tuition fee was. It was a fortune. I was pretty sure that my parents couldn't afford it. The tuition was so expensive and I haven't even added my living expenses. When I went home I immediately called my dad overseas. He told me that the tuition in CIA was too expensive.  He wasn't also too privy on the idea of mine that he should consider borrowing from the bank, selling the house in Alabang, the cars, the farm in Calatagan and live in a two bedroom for this "idea" of mine to enter culinary school. He was however open for a more affordable option. I spent the next few days in San Francisco inquiring to the different culinary schools. They all cost an arm and a leg. I was devastated.  With my tail tucked in, I went back home to Manila. Frustrated and disappointed that I have finally found my calling and still can't do anything about it.

A few days after I arrived we celebrated my nephews birthday in Minggoy's in Magallanes. During the meal, the chef came out and did his courtesy round. He asked if the food was good and if everything was ok. All of a sudden, my dad hollered, "Huy Chef, etong isang anak ko, gusto maging chef, tulungan mo naman!". The chef was suprised. Ask me if I really did want to become a chef. I said yes!!. I was excited that we would hire me right there. He said, "Ah ok, talaga? If you wanna be a chef, there's a new culinary school that opened in Quezon City and maybe you'd like to check it out?"

So I did. My dad agreed sending me to school again. But he did warn me. "If this thing doesn't pan out. You're on your own."

So I entered the world of the culinary arts. I studied culinary arts and I embarked on my journey to chefdom. I finished and gotten myself a Culinary Certificate. I graduated and immediately looked for a job.  I consider my self lucky. I didn't start as a plate washer or a kitchen helper.  Apparently, my certificate in my culinary school and  my knowledge of good english coupled with my computer skills of  microsoft word, excel and powerpoint kinda helped me get a leg up on my position. I was able to get demi-chef/chef-de-partie positions.

My first job 12 years ago was  at a posh Country Club in Makati,  I was the only college educated chef. It was hard to be the so called "rich kid" in the work place. I had all the theoretical know-how but none of the hands on experience. I must say that what I learned in Culinary school is only 5% of what I actually i applied to my actual work. My co-workers and my staff really gave me shit for that. I knew all the paperworks but couldn't cook for shit. It was easy to cook for 5 or 6 people at one time..but to cook for dozens and hundreds of people? That was completely different. My collegues and my staff gave me shit for that. I burnt sauces, I served raw or uncooked meat. It was fucked up. They would make fun of me and mock me. There were times that my confrontations with the staff would almost take a turn for a fistfight!!  Had shouting matches with chefs, waiters and even the purchasers. So many times i wanted to quit. There were times i would be at the walk-in chiller crying or in tears because of all the shit I got.  I never showed it though.  I braved all through it. I toughened up. Wore my big man panties all the time.  I worked hard. Stayed in the kitchen the longest. I worked 15 hour days regularly. I was never late and absent for two years.  I watched, observed and studied what all the veteran chefs were doing. I befriended everybody.   From the lowly breakfast egg omelette chef, I learned how to cook a fluffy omelette with chopsticks. From the pantry hamburger chef, I learned how to grill a burger, make a sandwich and deep fry French fries all at the same time. From the Japanese chef (may his soul rest in peace), I learned how to make a crunchy but light tempura and finally from the banquet chefs, I learned how to cook kalderata, pata tim and spaghetti sauce by the "kawa"!. I was like a sponge. Eventually, all my hard worked paid off. Most importantly, I slowly but surely learned how to cook.I slowly standardized the recipes and made manuals for the cooks. I made myself indispensable. Not only did I learn how to cook but was also organized enough to have a well run kitchen. So I left that country club, trained in Hawaii to open an American concept restaurant in Makati. I also became an executive chef for a upper class hospital in Ortigas. I also became a full-time culinary professor. I also opened up two restos in Makati which I’m very happy that the other one is still doing ok after 4 years. My last stint in a professional kitchen is when I  became the Executive Sous Chef for a Hotel in Tagaytay.

Sounds exciting? It was at times. When I was younger, cooking at the “line” was exciting. I would serve 500-1000pax on a weekend night. In the country club and hotel  we would serve 1000pax buffets and 700 plated 6 course meals. They were all a “rush”.

It really is exciting and fulfilling. But it really takes a toll on  you. You work on holidays. While everyone is spending their holy week, Halloween and Christmas holidays you are grudgingly working.   You have to work 12-14 hour days with only one day off a week.  

I thought that as you get higher up in a position things will get better. Well the pay did but you spend days weeks or even months not cooking. You spend your days meeting with suppliers. Making special menus for clients. Devising unreal an number of menu cycles for the buffet and special holidays menus for Mother's Day, Father's Day and other commercially advantageous holidays for hotels.  This is just the easy part. Attendance problems of the staff. Friction with the Union. The unending arguments/meetings with the F&B Director about food costs and labor costs. Arguments with Banquet Sales Managers on why it is an impossibility to have a Prime Rib Buffet at P1,250 net for their  cousin who really wants to get married at the hotel. The kitchen secretary who is asking for a vacation leave on a busy saturday because she has to attend her 4 year olds daughter school program.  Things like that just wears you off.  It just gets to be cumbersome.

Being a chef is much harder than everyone thinks. I've toiled around in the kitchen for 12 years now. Don't get me wrong, it's nice to be a chef. To cook for hundreds of people and see their faces when they love enjoy the food is priceless. It's really a noble job. Being a chef may seem glamorous because of the new TV shows and Chef-rock-stars like Gordon Ramsay, Jamie Oliver and the hundreds of Iron Chef's/Top Chefs/Master Chefs.

It's really hard work. The environment is harsh. You have to be physically able to do the job. You have to toil the whole day in hot, cramped and often times intolerable working environments. Your patience and tolerance for your co-workers should be saint-like. A great number of your kitchen co-workers are not college graduates and sometimes even not high school graduates. So your mentality is really different. The Executive Chefs are often narcissistic, overbearing and put in plainly assholes.


I don't regret being a chef. It also had its perks. Unlimited access to all kinds of ingredients in the kitchen. I was exposed to all kinds of cuisines. Numerous cuisines made me see all kinds of ingredients and experience different kinds of cooking methods.

With all those, it made me understand the chemistry of food. How different kind of cooking methods affect the ingredients. How a seasoned and skillful chef knows what kind of heat to apply for a particular kind of ingredient. Techniques and methods that are almost never found in cookbooks. Importantly, experience will give you cooking logic.  Logic plays a lot into food. Different kinds of logic for different kinds of dishes. A logical cut of beef, a logical sauce, a logical pairing of proteins, a logical starch accompaniment for a protein and a logical pairing of the whole set menu. Not only that, repetition is the key. You should do something repeatedly in order to be an expert. These can only be learned if you've worked in the kitchen.  To be able to comment about food or at least be able to authoritatively critique food you must be knowledgeable on what makes a certain food great.

For ex., one shouldn't simply say that a tempura is great because it is crunchy. They should at least have an understanding about what kind of shrimp was used, the doneness of the shrimp, what oil was used,  the way it straightens up and doesn't curl, the lightness and the crispness of the batter, the sauce, the overall presentation and of course the value.

I'm done with the bullshit of preparing the food. I've busted my chops and earned my stripes preparing food. Nowadays, I want to be at the other side of the restaurant. Enjoy the food. Savor the texture, taste and the flavor of the food. To finally really enjoy GREAT food.

My main objective for this blog is document and praise great food. I eat out 2 to 3 times a week. My wife and I see to it that we try new restaurants and look for really good food.

This blog is to really search and find good food. Outstanding food that is skillfully made and executed perfectly. Exceptional and noteworthy dishes.  From street food, carinderia food, hole-in-the-wall restaurants to posh five star hotels. If I find a great dish, I will document it and blog about it.

Let me make this clear. I plan to focus on the food and not on the restaurant. Food comes first. To find amazing and remarkable food and where to get them. I don't intend to focus on the restaurant.  I will not critique the menu, the air-condition, the utensils and plate ware, the fucking iced tea, the waiters uniform and the condition of their bathroom. I don't give a fuck or a rats about anything else. If the waiter is smelly and rude, he/she will be eternally forgiven if their food is great. If a restaurant has 100 dishes on their menu and 1 truly remarkable and amazing one, it shall be written about.

This blog will also feature the search aspect of the food quest. How the trip was made in going to these great food finds. The search and the journey for these stand out dishes will be documented.  To really give praise to outstanding and praiseworthy dishes. To seek great dishes in the unlikely of places.  I don't give a damn where it is.  I will search far and wide for these great food finds. If it's good and noteworthy, I will certainly take a pic and write about it.

The quest starts now...