Post 52.2: Hello Orange, Part 2 - Hello Potato Tacos (OC: Orange)

Now that I have been spending more time in the Orange County area, I have been able to wander around and discover some new food findings, the first of which is located right under my nose.  Okay, so 'right under my nose' isn't quite the exact GPS location, but this discovery did occur in the same plaza where the office is located... so it's really not that far from whatever is under my nose.

Pepito's Mexican Restaurant is not quite El Torito, not quite King Taco, but not quite El Pollo Loco either.  It's more like the kitchen and dining patio of your best friend's, little sister's, boyfriend's abuelita... just an open kitchen with counters made of tile, a cross between a restaurant and a café that serves authentic Mexican fare to locals.  It is not the kind of place that foodies would deliberately search and try, but it definitely is the kind of joint that gets the unsuspecting hungry coming back as regulars.  Pepito's is not a chain... it doesn't even have its own website.  But what it does have is an expansive menu complete with breakfast burritos and enchiladas... there are daily specials, Taco Tuesdays, a friendly staff with easily recognizable faces, cold cerveza, a fresh salsa bar, and holy hell... there are potato tacos.

So what is this infatuation I have with these newly discovered potato tacos? Well, you'd never know until you try.  I have come to love potato tacos because they are the most indulgent kind of tacos there are.  I mean... you can never go wrong with the house asada or the pastor that's made just right, but there's no amount of meat and tortilla that will make you feel like you're truly guilty.  If you polish off a 32 oz. rib eye with a side of mashed potatoes... you're a bad ass.  But if you polish off just two or three crispy shell potato tacos... hey, you're just bad.  

The root of your guilt stems from the potato itself.  Commonly made into French fries, tater tots, and bacon topped skins, it's not really thought of as the healthiest of vegetables.  Even though they are full of fiber, you know that it wasn't quite what your mom was referring to when she said, "eat your vegetables."  Whether or not you think potatoes are vegetables or corn tortillas are actually part of the vegetable food group, the lack of a true leafy green or a browned protein in your taco connotes a message that your meal is lacking some sort of nutrient.  

No matter.  Guilt is guilt.  If you get a chance to indulge in a crispy shell filled with a fluffy white vegetable more commonly thought of as carbs, then please don't let anything stop you.  You haven't lived until you've bitten into this ingenious invention.  It's one part grilled hash brown, a second part velvety mashed potato, and another part steamy baked potato... all wrapped within a crispy tortilla and doused with whatever salsa your heart desires.  (Not into spicy? Pepito's makes a Gringo salsa for the japaleño adverse.)  Oh, and did I mention the shredded cheese that comes on top? If you order the tacos for takeout, the cheese will melt in the container by the time you reach your destination (across the office plaza).  Ahhh... delicious, heavenly guilt.

Hola, Naranja.  Thanks for introducing Pepito's potato tacos.  I have a feeling Orange will be good to me.  Until the next carb-filled discovery, let's all get S.O.F.A.T.

ML - 20110411+0526

Post 50.1: Goodbye Thousand Oaks, Part 1 - Monday Mornings (LA-SFV: Glendale)

Just a few weeks ago, I transferred from the Thousand Oaks office to the office in Orange.  It's cut my commute down from 52 miles to 36 miles one-way.  Since gas prices are skyrocketing, I'm sure the shorter commute will help my bank account just a tad.

One thing I will miss about my commute to Thousand Oaks is the Monday morning car ride with my cousin Monica.  We would make weekly pit-stops at Porto's Bakery in Glendale on the way into the Valley.  I would pick up my Monday morning OJ and a ham and cheese croissant sandwich for lunch, and Monica would buy dozens of potato balls and guava cheese rolls for her and her roommates.  Every so often we would sneak one or two chicken croquettes in before jumped back onto the freeway too.

I was one of the few that made the commute from 626 into Thousand Oaks, which means I was one of the few who had access to fine Cuban baked goods.  Feeling the need to share the world's best food with everyone at work, I would bring Porto's into the office every so often.  And of course, we would rejoice together and celebrate in Cuban pastry revelry by dancing circles in our cubicles and dropping flaky crumbs on the carpet like sprinkles on a cupcake.  Okay, that didn't happen.  But you get the picture... there was pastry bliss.

It was one of those typical manic Monday mornings at Porto's that I discovered that the bakery made not only potato balls, but potato ball sandwiches.  Whoa.  So on top of my usual ham and cheese croissant, I ordered a papa preparada, the potato ball sandwich.  Deep fried mashed potatoes with seasoned ground beef with lettuce, tomatoes and cheese gets sandwiched between light Cuban baguette bread.  A bit trippy, no? 

Biting into the potato ball sandwich conjured the same feeling as eating a potato taco.  Oh, drool... the potato taco is my new discovery at the Mexican restaurant next to my new office in Orange.  Can we say carb overload? But the bread definitely outweighs the tortilla in carb count.  I still think the ham and cheese is my favorite (there's definitely a better carb-protein ratio), but the papa preparada is something that everyone should try at least once.

New office location, new morning commute.  Can't wait to see what culinary delights awaits me in Orange.  Oh, don't forget the Tapatío! Until next time, let's get S.O.F.A.T.

ML - 20110228

Post 43.3: Burma SuperStar, a Cinematic Experience (SF: Inner Richmond)

In the Richmond District is Burma SuperStar, an insanely well-known restaurant whose name has floated around in conversations amongst friends for ages.  I had only gotten into the car to leave from my afternoon meal at San Tung when Diana called and said that it was time to finally see about the hyped-up superb Burmese cuisine.  Eating at San Tung was like watching the matinee showing of an animated comedy, but eating at Burma SuperStar was like catching the midnight opening of a highly anticipated blockbuster.  To delve into my analogy further, I had just finished watching Tangled and was about to see Tron.  I felt reluctant yet excited the same time.

During the half hour wait, I squatted down Asian-style not to rest my feet but to hide from the ridiculously chilly San Francisco wind.  Dilemma.  I wanted desperately to step into the warm restaurant, but doing so would only require me to digest the food from San Tung immediately.  That was impossible.

We finally got seated in a corner, behind a pole and next to the front door that let in a draft each time someone walked in.  It was clearly the best seat in the house.  So the menu and ordering duties thrown upon me, I ordered every possible recommended item that four people could finish... an appetizer, a salad, a noodle dish, and a curry and a stew to pair with rice.  After much anticipation, we were ready for our cinematic experience with Burmese food.  Let the curtains rise...

The previews - Tea leaf salad

Fermented tea leaves (lahpet), peanut halves, slices of fried garlic, split yellow peas, sunflower seeds, and sesame seeds were the hodgepodge of ingredients that comprised the tea leaf salad.  As the server tossed the salad right at the table, we gushed a few oohs and ahhs the same way the film's audience laughs, gasps, and claps during a film's previews.  There is much excitement, and this portion of the experience is highly memorable... but previews don't tell the film's story, and the tea leaf salad is not an accurate reflection of Burmese food. 

There is always at least one preview that inspires your return to the theater.  That was the fermented tea leaves for me.  I focused my attention to the tea leaves because the distinct taste playfully beckoned with exotic appeal.  It's the pretty girl with the blue eyes checking out apples in the produce section.  It was not the shrieking baby crying for her pacifier in the bakery.  The taste is pleasingly potent and not overly robust.  It was clearly the star Burmese dish, and it's the one I would return for.

Courtesy reminder - Burmese samusas

The server brought with him a scent of curried chicken and potatoes, but the fragrance was gone as quickly as it had arrived.  Hands impatiently grabbed the deep fried raviolis for a quick dip in the sweet and spicy sauce, and in one swift motion, the samusas were on their way to digestive doom.  The scene reminded me of how theatergoers scramble to turn off their cell phones when the 'please turn off your cell phone' flashes on the screen.  Everyone knows that as soon as the cell phones are turned off, and as soon as the appetizers are finished, it's time for the main attraction.

Opening scene - Bun tay kauswer (coconut curry chicken noodles)

Sometimes the opening scene of a film tells you little about the plot.  Sometimes it tells you nothing at all.  Sometimes the scene is blisteringly bright, and it hurts your eyes.  Sometimes it's so dark that you can't even tell the film has begun.  It takes a few moments to adapt to the opening scene.  With my first bite, I tasted the spicy curry flavor of the noodles, and I wondered silently... is this what Burmese food really is? I'm not quite sure.  Is it good? Oh, hell yeah. One more bite, a different nutty, creamy taste from the coconut rolled over, under and around my tongue.  I tried to figure out just exactly what was going on, but the action continued.

First conflict - Pumpkin pork stew

The sudden onslaught of various spices brought on the first conflict between characters.  The big chunks of savory pork clashed with the even bigger chunks of sweet pumpkin.  My stomach turned between the suddenly spicy, suddenly sweet, and suddenly savory tastes.  Had the pork and pumpkin been cut into a slightly smaller size, the flavors in the stew would have been blended together more smoothly.  This was the point that if the conflict didn't get resolved, then the drama would escalate, and disaster would be imminent.  Just my luck... an even spicier curry had just been served.

Intense climax - Burmese style curry with lamb

The lamb curry completely exploited the foundation of conflict that the pork stew had set up earlier.  If the pork stew lit the match of spiciness, then the lamb curry was the strong wind that ignited the wildfire.  The intensity of the spice formed beads of sweat on my forehead, and I could not continue eating.  With my stomach churning and the beads of sweat falling down my face, I resorted to gasping for air and downing water by the glass.  The Burmese curry was like the confrontation between Simba and Scar, the final sinking of the Titanic, and the toys' escape from Andy's room. 

Conflict resolution - Coconut rice and tan poi combination

The solution to my stomach's conflict with the spicy curry was just a few spoonfuls of the sticky white jasmine rice that was sweetened with coconut milk.  Even the cinnamon and raisins cooked in the tan poi's basmati rice were just sweet enough to soothe the burning.  The combination of rice slowed the sweat, and well, that made everyone happy.  The uncontrollable fire of spiciness had been put out.

Fin, credits - Coconut ice cream

The dessert, like the final credits, are simply not worthy of a diner's time.  But for others dessert, like the final credits, is a required element of a complete dinner.  The coconut ice cream was sweet and refreshing.  It helped soothe the spicy rumblings of our just-finished Burmese meal.  What was unique about the ice cream were the hidden shreds of coconut flesh submerged within the confines of the spherical scoops.  Using my childhood experience of digging marshmallows out of rocky road, I went after the coconut flesh like I was searching for buried treasure.  Simply delicious. 

An eye-opening first experience with Burmese cuisine was complete.  We had moved from Inner Sunset to Inner Richmond where the Asian cuisine is just as delicious and just as well-known.  The food from either one of these areas beats the Chinese cuisine from Chinatown without a doubt.  This is where adventurous culinary explorers should begin their search for delicious delicacies.  There are rows and rows of excellent restaurants in the Sunset and Richmond districts... perhaps there are just as many stars on the Hollywood Walk of Fame.  It's impossible to conquer all the deliciousness in one visit to San Francisco.  That's probably why Yelp bookmarks pile up the same way the films in a Netflix queue do.

A gracious thank you to Justin for standing out in the freezing cold while Diana navigated her way through San Francisco... no thanks to her GPS.  Happy eating to all. 

Next post: Wining and dining smorgasbord

ML - 20110104/20101212

Post 42.2: Thanksgiving Leftovers - Turkey Curry in a Hurry

Families try to get creative with their turkeys every year... some switch it up with tofurkey, and others may feast over a deep fried turkey at the dinner table.  But the leftovers seem to always be the same.  We can get creative with not just Thanksgiving dinner but with our Thanksgiving leftovers too, right?

With the exception of the one or two years we had hot pot for Thanksgiving, we've had many years of Taiwanese-influenced turkey rice porridge for breakfast, mile-high turkey sandwiches and shredded turkey salads for lunch, and turkey noodle soup at dinner.  Last year my dad thought it would be a great idea to toss the leftover shreds of turkey into Japanese style curry sauce and serve it over rice.  Here's how we get rid of our turkey even before Christmas rolls around.

The products:

The process:

Brown the onions with vegetable oil.  Sprinkle in salt, black and white pepper.
Toss in corn from a can.  Mix together.

Dice potatoes in bite-sized cubes and toss in.  Sizzle with butter and curry powder.

After a good sizzle, add enough water to cover the top of the potatoes.
Blend cubes of curry and stir until fully dissolved.  Simmer.

Shred leftover turkey with a fork.  Incorporate into the curry sauce.
Adding the turkey to the sauce early on dries out the turkey... and nobody likes dry turkey.

Pour curry sauce over the top of steamed rice, preferably short grain Japanese rice.

Some variations that I've found to be just as good:

1.  Garnish with thinly sliced almonds for crunch.
2.   Use carrots and celery instead of corn.
3.  Pour curry sauce over instant ramen noodles.
4.  Top the curry off with a poached egg for breakfast or brunch.
5.  Substitute turkey and curry for ham and Hollandaise in your brunch benedict.

What does your family do with the leftover Thanksgiving turkey?

ML - 20101220/20101219

Post 42.1: Thanksgiving Means Turkey... Not Hot Pot

A tour guest recently asked me what a Taiwanese Thanksgiving feast is like.  Hmmm... I had never really thought about it... but I can't speak for other Taiwanese or Taiwanese-Americans.  

For me I guess I always took Thanksgiving to mean turkey, and anything Taiwanese would be saved for the remaining 364 days of the year.  Anytime any family member proposed to have hot pot for Thanksgiving, I put up strong opposition, and that usually led to our having a turkey at Thanksgiving.  

The one year that hot pot was elected over turkey, my cousins and I boycotted dinner with an I Love Lucy style hunger strike.  There was much yelling, but there was even more silence.  Not that my family ever ate hot pot on a regular basis, but hot pot was too typical of a meal for me... it wasn't special enough for this once-in-a-year holiday.  I mean... I don't particularly like turkey, but Thanksgiving without turkey is like Old Glory without the stars and stripes.  Thanksgiving meant turkey, and my cousins and I would find a way to get our roasted bird no matter what it took.... even if it was compromised with sticky rice stuffing.

This was the spread at Aunt Christy's house this year. 

Cream of mushroom soup with a swirl of sour cream and Pillsbury croissants.

Ham from Honey Baked Ham Company.

Condiments are champagne honey mustard and pineapple marmalade.

Originally prepared as asparagus in garlic and olive oil.

But later tossed into a salad of mixed greens and crispy bacon.

The golden turkey.  No stuffing... but surrounded by mini potatoes.

My aunt made the Cranberry sauce with fresh cranberries and added orange zest to it.

The seafood dishes are must haves in our family.

Shrimp cocktail with cocktail sauce on ice.  Linguine and clams with a forest of parsley.

Sweet potato casserole with brown sugar and pecan crust from Ruth's Chris.

No mashed potatoes this year? No problem.  Bye bye flat stomach.

If Aunt Jessica were stateside this year, there be two or three Marie Callender's pies on the table too, which probably makes our feast probably indistinguishable from from any other typical family's Thanksgiving feast... so I'm not sure if that answers the question, "What is a Taiwanese Thanksgiving feast like?"

But to throw in a little variation... how about another Taiwanese-American Thanksgiving feast from across town? Aunt Li doesn't eat turkey, chicken... or anything that walks on two feet, and her Thanksgiving dinner guests don't eat beef.  The compromise? Pork ribs from Tony Roma's. 

What was your Thanksgiving feast like?

ML - 20101202/20101125

Post 35: Finishing a Very Korean September with Gamjatang (LA: Koreatown)

Tick... pop... crack.  

As I continued to chew I wondered what was making the firecracker sensation in my mouth...

M: "What are those?"
K: "Sesame seeds."
M: "No man, they're black.  I think those are poppy seeds."
G: "Dude, my co-worker failed a drug test 'cuz she had a poppy seed bagel..."
M: "No way... that's an insignificant..."
K: "I'm telling you... they're sesame seeds"
A: "Wait.  What's wrong with poppy seeds?"
M: "Opium."
J: "What?"

The ticking, popping, and cracking black seeds were actually ground and toasted sesame seeds.  Grinding them up and toasting the seeds cause them to look round and black, allowing them to mask as poppy seeds.  They were floating around happily amongst white sesame seeds and bright green sesame seed (perilla) leaves in a deep red soup brewed from the bones of the pig's spine.  In addition to the tender, still-on-the-bone pork, the many variations of sesame seed, chunks of starchy potato were lodged at the bottom of the steel hot pot.  Hmmmm... so this is gamjatang (감자탕).

Kimmy, my token Korean friend from high school, volunteered to be our Korean food hostess for the weekend.  We call her Kimmy (her real name is Grace Kim) to highlight her Korean-ness.  Forget the fact that we have a million friends named Grace... it's her Korean-ness that allows us to call her Kimmy.  But I digress.  Kimmy, our Korean cuisine hostess extraordinaire, led us to Gam Ja Gol in Koreatown where she was about to show us some true blood Korean food... the non-BBQ, non-tofu, non-soju type of true blood Korean food.

Kimmy introduced us gamjatang, a savory stew made with the bones of a pig's spine, the earthy potatoes, and an abundance of enticing and somewhat exotic leaves of the sesame seed.  The soup was deep red.  Deep, deep red.  But it wasn't insanely spicy.  Just enough to cause droplets of perspiration to form on foreheads around the table.

In between bites of the soft pork, slurps of the savory stew, and glances at the banchan spread, I looked up every so often to ask Kimmy a question or two about the Korean food that we were having.  Gamjatang, translated literally, means potato (gamja) soup (tang), but Kimmy warned, "it's not really about the potato..."

Apparently not.  It was all about the soft and tender meat... it was about the savory and addicting soup... it was all about the fragrance of the perilla leaves... it was all about the way the gamjatang was poured into my bowl with heart, soul, and pride in the Korean culture.  It was about the complete destruction of a pig's spine... the bones looked as if they were leftover from a Velociraptor's meal.  And it was all about the second course of the meal...

As we the gamjatang slowly dwindled to its last remaining drops, the server arrived to wisp away the steel hot pot... only to refill it with white rice, chopped kimchi, and an assortment of ingredients.  I followed the sounds of the sizzle and crackle to the corner of the restaurant where it was cooking.  And as I peered into the popping pot, the server exclaimed from behind me, "chao fan!"

Bewildered, I spun around.  The supposedly Korean server used Mandarin to tell me that it was fried rice.  I didn't quite know just what to say.... or even what language to respond in.  So I just sat back down at the table, which is when Kimmy informed me, "she," pointing at the server, "told me that you looked Chinese."

I found out later that she was ethnically Korean but was born in northeastern China, so she learned to speak Mandarin growing up.  I guess that's where she learned to tell non-Koreans apart from ethnic Koreans.

But does that mean I like fried rice? Well, I sure as hell enjoyed this one.  In the little time it took to cook the fried rice, the grains of white rice had absorbed the remaining gamjatang... it was bursting with spicy and savory flavors... only a hint of which came from kimchi.  I was absolutely stuffed, and there was not a single section of spine left for us to pick at.  But I kept wanting more.  

The gamjatang rice was almost a drug.  If I had to take this drug every 8 hours for a course of 2 weeks (with food), I wouldn't have any problem with it.  In fact, I wouldn't have a problem with gamjatang or the fried rice being an intravenous drug.  Mmmm... this stuff is good.  Shoot it straight into my veins.

The gamjatang was an awesome Korean food experience.  What made it even better was that I learned and tried something I never knew existed.  Kamsamhapnida, Kimmy.  Solid meal.

Until another true blood experience, let's all get S.O.F.A.T.

ML - 201000926/20101006

Post 28: First Time with Afghan (SF: Russian Hill/Nob Hill)

I slapped myself out of my low tide of culinary inspiration.  My inspiration is back.  Or... perhaps I'm just craving Afghan food, and I'm craving it enough to post about it.

My first experience with Afghan food was a couple of months ago when my manager (born in Afghanistan, raised in USA) brought some of her mom's homemade fare to the office for the team.  Although our team consists of just five people, there was enough food to feed the entire corner of our office.  (Uh... it's a pretty big corner.)

I had no clue what I was eating, but I know good food when I see it.  And logic tells me that if an Afghan mother (or any mother for that matter) is confident enough and proud enough to prepare party-sized trays of her own home-cooked deliciosities, then gosh darnit, that stuff has got to be good.

A look at what Marya brought in:


Homemade qabalee.  Qabalee is a combination of pallow rice, raisins, carrots, and meat buried within.  Pallow rice is rice that has been baked after having been tossed in syrup made with carmelized sugar.  Zeera, or cumin seeds, helps perk up the rice.  There's nothing that can come between me and the Japanese, short-grain sticky rice that I've grown up with, but I welcome long-grain rice from other cultures whole-heartedly.  Pallow rice, I welcome you into my life with arms wide open.


Shola.  Contained within the puffy rice is lamb and finely minced vegetables such as onions and celery.  At first glance this dish looks a bit like oatmeal, and the color doesn't do the flavor the least bit of justice.  If you judge this book by its cover, you're definitely gonna miss out.  It's sweet, but it's got spices.  It's soft, but it's not mushy.  It looks bland, but oh lord, it's full of flavor.  I just can't get over how the oil and juices from the meat seep from below... almost like hot lava bubbling up from a volcano, ready-to-burst... and how every other bite of the engorged sticky rice has a surprise of lamb.  Oh sweet heavens, this stuff is good.


Beef qorma.  These chunks of beef have been stewed with onions, garlic, ground coriander, crushed tomatoes, and cauliflower.  It complements the qabalee and the shola really well.  With the qabalee, the gravy (the qorma part of it) helps give the rice an extra hand in spice, but I discovered that this beef deliciousness really shines on a bed of the shola.  Because the shola is so thick, the gravy has nowhere to escape; the shola can enclose the meat and its gravy within its congealed grains.  Your mouth gets nothin' but flavor.  Perrrrfect.

Many thanks to Mrs. Hameed for introducing a new cuisine to all of us in the office.  Marya, you've got one mean-cookin' mama!

Post 26.13: Vancouver - Final Day

It was the final day of my visit to Vancouver, and there was just one item left on my bucket list for Canada... poutine. 

Poutine is Canada's national dish (but this is debatable).  Poutine consists of French fries topped off with gravy and cheese curds (with variations).  Poutine is a fun to say on repeat.  Poutine looks absolutely horrific at first glance, but... poutine tastes like heaven.

On the way to the airport, Amanda took me to Belgian Fries on Commercial St., where the bar hoppin' happens.  This is where we found the most expensive poutine in all of Canada.  The cashier clerk at the shop ensured me that both the potatoes and cheese curds were shipped over from Quebec, where poutine originated.  However, the travel from Quebec was not the reason for its hefty price.  This was the most expensive poutine because...



... a parking citation and a tow-away fee came with it.

Yes, you heard right. 

Having forgotten that it was rush hour on a Monday, we parked just after 4:00 p.m. when, of course, Commercial St. becomes a tow-away zone.  (Looks like some things in Canada are the same as they are in America, eh?)

Since we were already running late, Amanda suggested that we order the poutine and eat it in the car as we rush to the airport... but as we were waiting for the Canadian deliciousness to finish frying to a golden crisp, I was relishing in a pint of ice cold, local Canadian brew.  (Sounds a bit strange hearing it as... ice cold, Canadian brew, doesn't it?)  And when heaven contained in a styrofoam box arrived, I couldn't wait to have some.  While Amanda reminded me, "You're going to miss your flight," I feverishly tore through the plastic bag and popped the top of the styrofoam box the same way a mechanic would pop the hood of a smoking car.



These fries were hot.  Like... literally steaming hot.  My first bite just about torched the nsides of my mouth.  It took 60 seconds to fully bite, chew, and engulf the ridiculously burning hot fry... just once.  Whew.

Where the fries had been fortunate to be graced by the gravy's golden touch, the potato was pillow soft.  Where the gravy had missed, the fries were still crisp.  It was easy to taste both the crispy portions of the fry and the tender soft areas too.  I really like how the freshly melted cheese curds burst with a bit of saltiness juxtaposed with the relatively sweet brown gravy.

I had three bites before I slammed the top back down on the box.  Just hearing the haunts of, "You're going to miss your flight..." was enough for me to get in gear for the race to the airport. 



Too bad... while I was enjoying this amazing-delicious poutine (merely three bites) and polishing off my glass of Granville Island honey blonde, Amanda's car was being towed away by parking enforcement.

Upon walking outside of the shop, I heard Amanda ask, "Wherrrre's... my... carrrr...?"

And though I was inclined to respond with "right there," I couldn't.  I suggested that we walk further down the street, but that suggestion was futile since there were no cars left on our side of Commercial St.  And that's when we saw... the tow truck.  And... the tow truck driver.



The driver with his new catch, seeing Amanda run towards his tow truck, slammed on the gas pedal and literally almost ran my now carless Canadian companion over.  Jackass!

Thankfully, though, Amanda's friend Allan saved the day.  He not only picked us up but helped us find the automobile prison and stayed with us until the car was released.  Super props to Allan.  (Thank you, sir.)

But now it was up to us to race to the airport in time to check in (my bag was full of maple syrup and every candy and cookie made from maple syrup imaginable), pass through security, and clear Customs and Immigration.  In the end, I made it.  But not after being (again) detained by security for suspicious items (maple syrup cookies?) and having my bag emptied and flipped through.  Daaamn yooou, Caanaadaaaaa!

But what's life without a little bit of drama and excitement, right?

Thanks to Amanda for being a wonderfully gracious hostess.  I learned quite a few things about Canada and its people (like how they stop talking to me after they find out I'm American) and its food.  I will be back.  For sure.  Until the next trip though, let's all get S.O.F.A.T.

ML - 20100811/20100705