May 2004

The Bulgur Boatman
The Kitchen Samurai

So, here I am at my new job. It's muy loco. I've gone out to eat more in the past few weeks than ever before, and I'm fucking dreaming about my job when I go to sleep. My life, as we say in the Internet business, is "TEH FUCKING CRAZY, LOL, OMG, WTF?"

In the Internet business, you see, we are stupid. One day, I'll get a real job.

In the midst of this madness, Godzilla calls: "Yo. You gonna get me an article?"

"No way, shithead. I'm fucking swamped."

"Okay. …So, it'll be the clowns then?"

"What?"

"You'll see." *CLICK*

So, last night, I woke up with a start to find a trio of clowns dancing around my bed singing that damn ooga-chucka song, the one that fucking demonic baby used to dance to. Every now and again, one of the clowns would begin to do the Snoopy-dance while the other two menaced me with knives in some demented, hellish pantomime. After awhile, the clowns quit dancing, and, all of a sudden, simultaneously cut the throats of three balloon animals they produced from somewhere inside their clothes. As the balloons popped, the lead clown shrieked, "WRITE, foodboy!" Then the clowns goose-stepped out, pausing only to scratch my rather befuddled cat.

At this point, my girlfriend sighed, then hit me with a pillow. "Just write the Goddam article." she snarled. "Or we'll never sleep again, and you'll wind up with your poopshoot filled with Twinkies. You know Godzilla's in with the clown mafia, you dolt"

And so, under protest, I write. Or I try to. All I can think about though is lunch. More specifically, I'm obsessing about how much the restaurants around my office suck ass: bad Chinese, pizza, a TGIMcBennigan's-style "Mexican" place, a Chicken Out… the list goes on and on, a litany of mediocrity and dolor.

It's that last sort of restaurant that bugs me most: the fast-food with pretensions to quality, the chain restaurants. The problem, I think, is that people have been bewitched into thinking that, just because a restaurant has chairs, the food is going to be "fancy." Or some shit. I don't know. But the truth of the matter is that Chile's, Chi-Chi's, Chevy's, and the Olive Garden are trading on a general apathy and timidity in the public. People are being bamboozled into thinking these places are different from, and somehow better than, McDonald's, Arby's, Burger King, and the like; but these mid-range, chain restaurants simply are neither different nor better. It's the same boring food, but at higher prices - I assume the service and the garnish justifies the expense in some people's minds, but why? How?

Really, if I just need stuff in my stomach, I have no objection to using McDonald's or Taco Bell for that purpose. If I'm going to *eat* though, and spend $10 or more for the experience, I want it to *be* an experience. I want my food to taste of something. I don't want processed crap served in one of these dull chain restaurants. I want flavor, interest, a spark of some sort. I think the worst sin a cook can commit is to turn out something so bland it can't even be bad but instead is just… blah. We have to eat. We might as well enjoy it when we can. If enjoyment is impossible, go get a salad at Wendy's and save the money, because god knows no one else ever needs another oily chicken breast on an indifferent bun. These chain-restaurants, theses house of the unholy, they're not bad, they're worse - they're dull and anonymous. Fuck 'em.

Fortunately for me, I have some options. The Thai place up the street has killer Larb. There's, rarest of all things, a good sandwich shop by the Metro. There's a Chipotle, which manages not to be boring despite its chain status. And, God bless, there's tabbouleh.

Tabbouleh (in all its varied spellings) is a Lebanese salad composed mostly of parsley and mint, with bulgur adding heft, and lemon juice enlivening the whole thing. It is, when I remember to prepare it ahead of time, a perfect summer lunch, and the only hard part about it is finding bulgur wheat, which most grocery stores do their level best to hide from the shopping public. I've taken to buying bulgur wheat in bulk at a hippie store just to show the regular grocery stores who's boss.

To prepare tabbouleh, begin by soaking bulgur wheat ( I use only a quarter to a half cup, but many USAians seem to use twice that, turning the Lebanese herb salad with bulgur into a bulgur wheat salad with herbs - either way is good) in a with hot water, until the wheat kernels soften. While the bulgur is soaking, mince a large bunch of parsley and an equal amount of mint, and put it in a large bowl. Mince a large, raw, cored and seeded tomato, and add the tomato to the herbs. Mince three scallions or half a white or red onion finely, and add to the bowl of herbs. Add the softened bulgur wheat to the herb mixture. In a measuring cup, pour a quarter cup of olive oil and the juice of 1 large lemon. Salt the liquid to taste, and pour it over the bulgur, herbs and tomato, mixing well. Taste the salad and adjust salt, acid, and oil to taste (I almost always want more lemon). If you find the bulgur is still too chewy for your taste, fear not, it will soften further in the lemon juice and oil, and the flavors in the salad will continue to marry if the tabbouleh sits around for a bit. Though bulgur is at its very best within a few hours of its preparation, it will remain a wonderful lunch option for a day or three in your refrigerator. Especially if your other options involve servers wearing "flare."