Chris Ming, Author at Christopher Ming Blog

restaurants

Pride

Last updated on November 9th, 2019 at 01:20 pm

He wanted to say something. I could feel it in the air – that tension tingling in the space between us. I put down my tray.

He waited.

I took off the three tall soda glasses, and fit them snugly into one hand. My other hand reached for the soda gun. My thumb fired off two “D’s” and one “P.” Besides the fizzle and pop of carbonation striking soda mix, it was quiet.

He waited.

I handed my patrons their respective refills. When I returned to the bar, I put him out of his misery.

What Martin? I asked him.

restaurants

The Day Off

Last updated on March 26th, 2017 at 05:35 am

Chen Sifu crossed the intersection, between the supermarket and the house-turned-dormitory where local restaurant owners rented rooms, to house help they hired from The City. The October air was cold. The wind cut. Chen zipped his jacket up to his chin, and burrowed his neck deep into the thin cotton. He hustled towards the supermarket. His pace gave away the discomfort that his facial expression didn’t reval. It was impassive, as always. Closed, wide lips. Round eyes that registered surprise or excitement only after a 2-second delay, as if hooked up by loose connections.

He wore that same expression while he battered chicken tempura in the deep fryer, rolling the thin pink strip of poultry into the tempura bits floating on vegetable oil, like snowflakes atop an ice rink.

Nor did it change when Big Chef scolded him for being stupid or incompetent. His glassy eyes absorbed the brunt without blinking, like they couldn’t fathom the situation – or didn’t want to. It was the same when Alan – skinny, Sushi Chef Alan – bullied him for the Chinese newspaper or for his seat on the empty soy sauce container. Chen’s wrists were thicker than Alan’s neck, and he could wring him out if he set his heart on it.

Instead, he acquiesced, but not without that unwavering stare, which forced Alan’s glare to the ground, his mumbled words directed at the floor as he snatched the inky paper or assumed his position on the makeshift chair.

Chen sang while working, the expression pouring from his voice compensating for its absence in his face. You often heard Beijing opera from the basement, while he wrapped large scoops of green tea ice cream into fluffy, yellow pound cake, but mostly he sang contemporary songs, while cutting vegetables or scrapping burnt scraps off the stove.

Allison asked me once, bemused, “What is he singing? Like, Chinese folk songs?”

I pictured the accompany music video to the particular tune; one of those videos with shaking bottoms and bare mid-riffs. I shook my head.

Not really, I told her.

It was Tuesday, though – his one day off a week – which explained why his blank slate of a face bobbed its way to the supermarket. As far as destinations went, he didn’t have many other options in Slingerlands, during the middle of the week. Especially without a car, and armed only with vegetable names and versatile English expressions like, “No good,” “Thank you very much,” and “What the hell?” These days, all the chefs from The City owned laptops, so they could stream Chinese programs or movies, but realistically that kept them occupied for only so long. Even after sleeping in late and the luxury of a long, hot shower, they needed something else to occupy their time besides staring at a laptop screen with a viewable size of 12.35 inches and pixel pitch of 0.25mm.

Hopping on bus line 86 took them to the mall, but that got old (and expensive) after a while.

So besides heading to the supermarket – which lacked temptations like the Express store and the fancy gadgetry of Brookstone – what else was there to do? He’d rather work, honesty, to earn more money. Boss already told him no, though, he couldn’t work seven days a week. He wanted him to rest.

Inside the supermarket, he wandered through the bright, clean aisles. He stared at row after row of cereal boxes, canned soups, bottled Spaghetti sauces, salad dressing, and ice cream. Dessert boxes with pictures of sinful chocolate cake. Packages of uncooked chicken, categorized in seemingly infinite permutations: bone-in or boneless, skinned or skinless, thighs or breasts or drumsticks, farm raised or local or all natural – it all extended far beyond the way he used to buy his poultry (“dead or alive?”)

Every English word, every recognizable brand and vibrant packaging, the wealth of it all, reminded him of why he was here, in upstate New York. It reminded him why a 14-hour plane ride and a $1200 ticket separated him from his wife. Why 95 percent of his pay, earned through 12-hour works days, he wired across the ocean, where he’d never see it again. Why when his son married a few weeks ago, he was absent from the wedding. Instead, he was working two skillets, trying to catch up with the dinner rush.

He certainly wasn’t here because they needed his valuable cooking skills. He wasn’t a talented chef; he knew that. The first time he cooked them dinner, pork loin with bok choi in oyster sauce, the dish came out so salty, it was barely edible. The other cooks ruled it out to differences in style. He probably wasn’t used to the southern style of cooking, they figured.

For lunch the next day, he made wheat noodles in a peanut sauce – a distinctly northern dish. He spent an hour pulling and cutting his own noodles, then another 30 minutes refining his sauce, tasting it with his index finger after every ingredient, trying to get it just right.

The finished product tasted like plain spaghetti noodles doused with watery peanut butter.

He wasn’t getting paid for his culinary talents. So he compensated for it by doing anything you asked him to do.

Start keeping inventory of all kitchen items? No problem.

Wash dishes and scrub the walls? Absolutely.

Get on the 8-foot ladder and hang Christmas lights around the building in 15 degree weather? I’d love to.

He compensated with his good temperament. By never getting upset. By singing.

Chen picked something out of the grocery store – something for dessert, something foreign that looked deceptively delicious, like a chunk of Angel food cake or sweet cherry pie. He braved the cold once more, and crossed the intersection back to the unheated dormitory, where he prepared his dinner, and grimaced as he downed his own cooking. Then ate his dessert, and grimaced at how sweet it was.

He watched his second movie for the day.

He sang a little.

Then, more out of boredom then exhaustion, he laid down on the mattress with the sagging middle. The mattress where countless other chefs before him had laid their tired bodies. He pulled the sleeping bag he used for a blanket over his body, and tried to sleep, eagerly awaiting to return to work in the morning.

PhotoCredit: Lana L.

systems

Minimalism: Attire Guide

Last updated on January 15th, 2022 at 06:18 am

Introduction

Overabundance of option and choice make slaves of us all. Cutting to the “core” of your closet, then building from those essentials, simplifies traveling, moving, and living. The challenge is whittling down to your core closet.

Core closet – 1. the attire an individual wears 90 percent of the time. 2. the attire selected under an extreme quantity constraint that allows an individual to perform 90 percent of his day-to-day activities at 90 percent comfort level.

Even when running on a skeleton of a closet, we’re assaulted with a multitude of options: colors, cuts, sizes, materials, brands.

The purpose of this guide is to assist in the creation of the core closet.

Disclosure: All links are non-affiliate links. Most link directly to either Backcountry or Moosejaw; please support these companies with your business. All costs are approximate.

Base Layer

[from right to left: 140 Tech-T, 200 Hopper, Long-Sleeve]

The Icebreaker Line

The following Icebreaker products are 100% Merino wool. Merino wool surpasses cotton in nearly every aspect. It traps heat, wicks sweat, and dries extremely quickly – three to four hours, hanging. (To extend the life of Merino wool garb, do not dry by hand wringing. Instead, lay out garment on a towel, and roll into a tight cylinder. Do not stick Merino wool into the dryer).

Merino wool is also antimicrobial. After a rinse in cold water, there is close to no odor.

The Bodyfit150 Ultralite Short Sleeve Atlas T-Shirt ($45 – not pictured) as the name implies, is a fitted, athletic-cut shirt (short on the arms, short on the torso.) Out-of-the-box, Bodyfit resembles more of an undershirt than a t-shirt.

The SuperFine140 Tech T Lite($50) fits more like a casual t-shirt. A size small fits comfortably fits a frame of 5’7”, 140 lbs.

The SuperFine200 Hopper T-shirt ($65) also possesses a casual t-shirt cut. The weight of the t-shirt possesses substance, and unlike the above shirts, does not feel like it’ll rip after mild wear.

The Bodyfit200 Oasis Crew ($70) has an athletic long-sleeve fit. Think Under Armor, without the feel of a synthetic fabric against the skin. The Oasis Crew is nearly a perfect base-layer for cold conditions (sub-40 degrees.) It suffers the same sizing issue as much of Icebreaker apparel – snug fit on top, but short on the length.

Save for the SuperFine200 Hopper T-shirt, there’s been the unfortunate experience of ripping in all the Icebreaker products mentioned above. Ripped articles were worn strictly under casual use and light athletics (running, weightlifting.)

The Stoic Line

The Stoic brand is the exclusive brand to Backcountry. Shirts tried on typically have a looser fit, and none exhibited the next-to-skin (NTS) quality found in Icebreaker or Under Armor brands. At first touch, the quality of merino wool feels cheaper than Icebreaker; though it still wicks sweat, holds heat, and is antimicrobial.

As a whole, the Stoic brand is less expensive and offers a greater variety of colors. The back of the shirt “tails” at the end, and fits more comfortably than Icebreaker during casual wear. The sleeves are extra long, and stay in place when pushed up the forearms.

Stoic Merino Bliss ($80)

The Merino Bliss has three noteworthy features: thumb holes at the end of the sleeves, a zippered chest pocket, and a zippered half-collar. The former two are welcome additions to the Stoic brand. The style of the latter, however, feels strange. Unzipped, the shirt opens just north of the solar plexus, and wearing in this fashion produces odd looks. (The functionality of the zipper length can’t be denied, though; there’s an immediate cooling affect when unzipped.)

The Stoic Merino Crew ($60) is an alternative to the Icebreaker Oasis Crew. While the Oasis Crew has a heavier, warmer feel and is NTS, Stoic Merino Crew is longer in torso and arm length, and the sleeves have thumb holes.

Other Base Layers (in brief)

SmartWool Sport NTS Crew – Long-Sleeve ($80)

Looseness around the wrist “cuffs,” lightness of the material, and price make the SmartWool Sport NTS Crew inferior to its Icebreaker and Stoic counterparts.

SmartWool Men’s NTS Lightweight Bottom ($70)

A comfortably snug, lightweight bottom that discretely keeps the legs warm beneath jeans and slacks.

EMS Techwick ($20)

Techwick pills and doesn’t battle odors well, but at less than half the cost, it’s a noteworthy Merino wool alternative.

Ex-Officio Men’s Wicking Boxer-Brief ($25)

A nylon-spandex blend boxer-brief that’s antimicrobial, stretches, and dries in a few hours.

SmartWool PhD Outdoor Light Cushion Micro Sock ($13)

Merino wool blend makes it an excellent athletic sock.

SmartWool Diamond Jim Sock ($18)

Merino wool blend and three-color argyle makes it an excellent dress sock.

Mid Layer

Icebreaker Sport 320 Nomad ($160)

The Sport 320 Nomad is one of Icebreaker’s heavier products, weighing in at 320 g/m². It’s a quarter-zip, pull-over hoodie. Unzipped, the hood has a triangular look sitting atop your head. Fully zipped, the hood sits snug on the skull, creating a “speed skater” appearance.

It’s an extremely durable product, with double stitching at the bottom hem, at the end of the sleeves, and inside the thumb loops.

Like other Icebreaker apparel, sizing fits slightly small.

Icebreaker GT Quantum Hood ($170)

The GT Quantum Hood is lighter than the Sport320 Nomad (260 g/m²) but what it lacks in weight, it makes up in style. It’s a sleek full-zip hoodie with a plethora of features: drop tail hem, two zippered stash pockets (one on the chest, a second at the small of the back) and a reflective zipper. The most prominent detractor is lack of hand pockets. For casual wear, size-up.

Coolibar Shirt ($60)

A lightweight long-sleeve with a 50 UPF rating. The material feels like cotton but dries as fast as nylon or Merino wool. Gusseted sides keep you cool, a tri-fold collar keeps the sun off your neck, and solid construction means the Coolibar shirt is built to last. Size small fits a 5’7” to 5’8”, 14½ – 15 inch neck.

Pants

Ex-officio Nomad Pant ($40)

This pair of pants deceptively looks like an ordinary pair of cotton trousers. Only closer inspection reveals its versatility: nylon-material brushed with Teflon makes it stain and wrinkle resistant, light, and fast drying. It features an “indestructible button,” an elastic waistband and belt loops, two hip pockets, two zippered back pockets, and a discrete security pocket on the right leg. Sizing on the length runs about an inch long – may require tailoring.

EMS Profile Convertible Pants ($40)

The Profile Convertible Pants is an ideal model as far as convertibles go. It possesses all the properties of nylon material, has a built-in belt, and cargo pockets along the thighs. Overall it’s a loose, casual fit; the zip-off attribute of the pants isn’t unnoticeable, but it is discrete. As shorts, the length of the cut falls at approximately mid-knee. Sizing on the leg length runs about an inch long – may require tailoring.

Footwear

Footwear is the natural enemy of any core closet – in no other attire form does your environment, activity, and company so greatly affect your selection. Unlike a base layer, it’s unlikely to come across a “one-shoe-fits-all” product. Function varies widely, and few articles of clothing communicate personality better than footwear. Even after selecting a brand, the magnitude of models, colors, and styles could submit even the savviest of shoppers into choice-paralysis.

The following link to brands/models of Core Closet footwear: Crocs, Keen, Vibram Five Fingers, Rainbow Sandals, The Northface Ultra 104 XCR, The Northface Hedgehog, The Northface Ultra 103 XCR

Dress Layer

In reality, the Dress Layer isn’t part of the Core Closet, but rather an extension of it, naturally bridged by your profession, personality, and desire to accessorize. It does not lend itself to mobility, but may be essential in day-to-day operations. It’s where the Core Closet exhibits the most variance. Here are some components of the Core Closet Dress Layer of an urban professional:

(2) Suits
(3) Dress Shirts
(3) Ties
(2) Pairs of Dress Shoes
(2) Belts

Summary

The Minimalism: Attire Guide should be used as that – a guide. It’s not an attempt to start brand wars, or to trumpet one brand, model, or style as the premiere.

Insights in the Minimalism: Attire Guide inspired by authors like Tynan, Tim Ferriss, Kareem, and Taylor Davidson.

Author’s Selection:

(2) IB Hopper T-shirts
(1) Stoic Long-sleeve
(1) SmartWool Bottom
(2) Ex-officio underwear
(1) Ex-officio nomad pants
(1) Nomad hoodie
(2) SmartWool Socks
(2) SmartWool Diamond Jim Socks
(1) Crocs

restaurants

Tempura

Last updated on November 9th, 2019 at 01:02 pm

“It looks easy,” Frank told me as he moved the circular, steel mesh strainer through the vegetable oil, scooping out the tempura flakes clumped together like bunches of oats. “But tempura takes some of the greatest skill in Japanese cooking.”

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Sushi Rice

Last updated on November 9th, 2019 at 01:24 pm

Cold water poured from the faucet. It struck the steel strainer filled with mi, uncooked rice, below. Drops scattered and jettisoned as they hit individual grains sitting at precarious angles. Silently, we watched the water level rise. Clear turned to an opaque, milky white after a few moments, like mayonnaise on Wonder bread.

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Heart

Last updated on November 2nd, 2021 at 04:04 pm

“When Old Man cook, it more tasty, right?” Danny glanced at me. We sat at the bar. He was hunched over his dinner: white rice, beef cooked in oyster sauce and Chinese cabbage.

I took another bite. I was sympathetic to Chen Sifu’s cooking, since I’d been told my own cooking was pretty bland. But Danny was right; whenever Chen Sifu cooked, it required hibachi hot mustard to make it an enjoyable experience. I nodded.

“Yeah. See, this guy, no good.” He shook his head, then glared at the contents of his bowl. “I think no one teach him. He just learn by watching. He…” Danny paused, and struggled for the word. He barked something at Tracy, the server, in Fukienese.

Tracy’s eyes didn’t stray from the flat screen television mounted against the wall. “Like a job. He cook like a job,” she mumbled. Anthony Bourdain’s No Reservations was on. He was eating clam testes or snail gizzards or something.