But this was the day that I was born. I'm approaching 30 so, maybe it is time that I give birth. Not birth to a baby or a small, yappy dog, but to me. To my heart.
Wednesday, October 27, 2010
Heart Birth
But this was the day that I was born. I'm approaching 30 so, maybe it is time that I give birth. Not birth to a baby or a small, yappy dog, but to me. To my heart.
Saturday, August 14, 2010
SushiHeart
When I'm not cooking elaborate meals to entice boys to my house, the kitchen of my apartment becomes the congregation point for me and my roommates. This week one of my roomies organized a sushi night that got out of control.
Thursday, July 29, 2010
Dinner 16
It's been much, much too long, all you stomachhearts out there. Apologies for the delays, but life sometimes gets out of order and it takes a little time to get the recipes back together. The updates:
1. got a job
2. stopped dating dinner Guest 14/15
3. dinner Guest 5 sent me this amazing text: Omg. Date just cooked me dinner. "Dinner" = "vegetarian sloppy joes." Vegetarian sloppy joes = microwave leftover rice mixed with ketchup on white bread. Plz blog.
Well, everyone makes mistakes, but this stomachheart finally had another dinner to make up for all the lack of good cooking karma that might have been in the world.
Tuesday, July 6, 2010
The Fourth of Stomachheart
I feel like the tradition of the 4th of July is based on some dicey situations and some not so friendly history that this great country has been a part of. Regardless, the present celebration is a time where friends and family get together, grill tons of meat, and watch fire explode in the air. Whatever the history and international relations of our wonderful USA, good outdoors cooking can easily make us forget our problems and bring harmony all over the rooftops.
Well, not exactly. Or at least not for me. My roommate and I decided to have a grill-out on our roof and we each invited all of our friends. This quickly led to my inner-self becoming divided into four chambers of my stomachheart. If you thought I got stressed out about having just one guest over for dinner, imagine 20 guests. I felt divided between:
1)entertaining my friends
2)entertaining my roommate's friends
3)making sure the food was coming along
4)and worrying about paying enough attention to my ongoing Dinner Guest (14 and 15).
I suppose it's not that bad, but when you are the host (or co-host, rather) there is a lot of pressure to make sure all of the above things are mixing and getting along well. There is only so much a host can do, but I feel a responsibility for at least trying to get people to talk to each other because I know that I can't be around to do it all the time. The hardest part is balancing friends and new boyfriends. Admittedly, I am not too good at it. I feel like I either have to ignore my friends (while the boy and I have some private time) or shut the boy out of the conversation because my friends and I go way back and always talk about the same thing: writing.
So, by the end of the night, we were all on the roof in the cold, cold, fog, watching the fireworks explode all over the city, and I felt totally uncomfortable and drunk. My friends were on one side chatting, but I wasn't able to say much to them because I was pre-occupied with the boy on the other side who seemed to be in a bad mood and whether I was responsible or not, I definitely felt responsible. He wanted to go downstairs because of the cold and then I ditched my friends entirely. And even the rest of the night with the boy was awkward.
Luckily, there is clean up. I ditched everyone to help my roommate put everything away and wash all the dishes. There is something soothing about cleaning. Not only did I wash away all my anxieties about the day, but I cleaned off all the soot that came off of Mission St. and deposited itself on the furniture, food, dishes, and my body. It may seem impossible, but most things that are divided can be glued back together (maybe sometimes in a different configuration) and washed off.
Tuesday, June 29, 2010
Stomachheart Eats Pride
As you, dear reader, probably know, this past weekend was Gay Pride in many cities across the country including my little place of residence, San Francisco. I made it a point to go to as many events as I could, from the TransMarch to Dykes on Bikes and even to a performance by the Backstreet Boys on Sunday. This year, the theme was "Fabulous and 40" commemorating the 40th anniversary of the event. This, of course, made me think of history and how Pride has a way of digging up the past and presenting it to you as if it were yesterday. And I don't mean it makes me remember all those queer legends and heroes that came before to make Pride possible.
The history I'm thinking of is more personal. For me, and I think for many queers in the city, Pride is the inevitable time when you are bound to take the long parade past many of the people that you've hooked up with. Sometimes this city is too small and there are just too many skeletons in the closet (or out of it actually).
Then on Pride Sunday, I narrowly escaped an encounter with Dinner Guest 1. I totally dove behind a crowd of shirtless leathermen just, so I didn't have to have another awkward hello and happy pride. And then, of course, the Monday after Pride, I ran into Dinner Guest 12 who actually took the day off as a paid religious holiday (Q: Do you believe in God? A: No, just Gay). Also very awkward because I ran away after 5 minutes. Sometimes it's just too much. Sadly, he actually witnessed the shooting that happened at the Pink Party. I guess there are more important things to worry about then the boys from my past. Hopefully next Pride will not only be fun as it always is, but safe for everyone, too.
The one dinner guest that I wish I had run into at Pride is Dinner Guest 14. Unfortunately he was out of town and I had to go the whole weekend without even a very proud snuggle.
Thursday, June 17, 2010
Dinner 15
It's really hard to cook when you are doing even one of these things:
a) stressing out about job decisions
b) stressing out about how the decisions you make now will affect you in the future
c) stressing out about keeping in touch with friends with busy schedules
d) starting to date someone
Fortunately there is d). And d) happens to be Dinner 14's guest. After Vermont, we started hanging out periodically and things have progressed slowly but surely. Usually when I start to date someone, I totally stress about how much they like me, or if they like me at all, or what I should do when they do this, or what I should do when they do that. With Dinner 14, it's different. We only get to see each other about once a week, but when we do, we have a really good time, biking around, giggling like little girls, and eating, of course. There's no pressure because we seem to be on the same, unspoken page.
Recently we hung out at Lake Merced and then went to the ocean way out there. It's weird because the road along the ocean is barricaded and sand has blown over a lot of it. It kind of looks like the end of the world, especially when it's deserted and you just walk down the center of the road. But it's nice when you have someone's hand to hold.
After our journey to the end of the world we cooked together, this time at his place. It always makes me nervous to cook in other people's territory, especially this time because his kitchen is really small and he has few utensils and dishes. But somehow we managed okay and even made a lemon cake that came out really weird, because we had to stir it in the same square pan that we baked it in. I guess amid all the chaos in a kitchen or in our lives, we find a way to make do with the things that do make sense.
Thursday, June 3, 2010
Stomachheart in Vermont
For the past two weeks I've been in the middle of nowhere (a.k.a. Johnson, Vermont) doing a writing residency at the Vermont Studio Center. This is a place where you get fed three meals a day, and all you have to do is sit in a beautiful studio overlooking a river and write. My expectations for food and men were high before I arrived. Rumor had it that this place was nicknamed "Divorce Camp" because everyone parties hard and hooks up with each other the whole time.
Sunday, May 23, 2010
Dinner 14
I knew I was going to be gone for two weeks, so I scheduled two dinners in one week. You may notice that some of the ingredients are very similar to Dinner 13. I tried to switch them up but leftovers are leftovers.
Even though I wasn't that excited about the food, I was very excited about the guest. I saw him in the observatory tower at the De Young Museum, and I actually asked him to dinner in a little note. He was still a random guy, but at least I wasn't up to the whims of whoever responds to my craigslist ads. This little stomachheart is branching out and trying new things.
Because I chose my guest, I had high expectations and was nervous that maybe he would think I was a weirdo. But we got along just fine. He's an artist and makes portraits with cross-stitching and black work. He's also apparently a bad cook and manages to bake everything wrong. He does love eating though, and he was really excited about all the items on the menu. The thing that got to me was that there were a lot of long awkward pauses in between topics. This is always a big anxiety when meeting new people, and I usually think that maybe we really don't have much in common and there's no point in hanging out. But then I realized that I shouldn't put that much pressure on it. I just met the guy. Even though it would be great to instantly have good conversation, not everyone is willing to put out (everything) on the first dinner. Sometimes we just have to take our time.

The best part about this dinner is that we did take our time. Usually my guests politely give their thanks and head out the door shortly following dessert. But this week's guest didn't seem in any rush to leave. He stayed and we let the conversation take its natural course. Maybe he was into me or maybe not. Maybe I should have made a move or maybe not. I didn't feel any pressure because I hope to see him again. I'll just take my time.
Wednesday, May 19, 2010
Dinner 13
Honestly, sometimes these meals are a chore. Listening and talking to a total stranger is a lot of work and not always rewarding. But this week's dinner guest, a soft spoken musicologist and 17th century baroque organ player, gave me valuable insight into the worlds of food, music, and dating.
Insight #1: The trick to getting children to eat their vegetables. My dinner guest said he was a gullible child. Apparently, his mom used to cut up raw vegetables into tiny pieces and call them candy. He fell for it and has loved all raw vegetables ever since. He actually separated the red cabbage from the radishes in the salad and ate the "radish candy" last.
Insight #2: The argument against the raw diet. One of my craigslist questions was about what restaurant in the Bay Area you wouldn't go to again. My guest said Cafe Gratitude. I also hate that place. Their whole shtick is creepy and forced. My guest told me it's rumored that the employees are encouraged to go on weird spiritual retreats and that many who have reached management positions have decided they can't do it anymore. My guest also had a good reason for cooking vegetables. He studies how the development of musical instruments directly influences the kind of music that is made. So, the position of the keys on a piano or organ is somewhat responsible for great classical compositions. In the same way, he said that modern civilization began when people started cooking. Cooked vegetables and meat altered our brain chemistry and made modern people. The idea comes from the book, Catching Fire: Cooking Made Human.
Insight #3: The problem of dating men in San Francisco. By desert and the third glass of wine, the conversation turned to the toils of love. We both had struggled with dating in the city and this was his explanation. He found it ironic that I had my longest relationship in Madagascar, which seems to be a gay wasteland, but in a city full of gays, I had so far come up with zero. He said that perhaps, because of all the options, no one is ready to take a chance on you, because there might be something better around the corner. In a small town, its easier to settle because of lack of options, but when there are beautiful men everywhere, why not sample them all?
Spicy Banana Soup
Ingredients:
2 sliced bananas
2 tablespoons chopped green onions
2 cloves minced garlic
2 kaffir lime leaves
2 tablespoons ginger
1 tsp garam masala
1 tsp corinader
1 tsp cayenne pepper
1 can coconut milk
1 can chicken stock
1 tsp corn starch
dollop of yogurt
Sautee the garlic, onions, and ginger. Add the bananas. Add the coconut milk, stock, and spices, and cook for 20 minutes. Add the corn starch (dissolved in water to prevent lumpiness) and add salt and more spices to taste. Take off heat and serve with a dollop of yogurt.
Sunday, May 16, 2010
Stomachheart in Las Vegas
Yes, even stomachhearts love Sin City. Or at least sort of. I was there because my brother (who I barely talk to) had an engagement party. It was the first time that my whole family had been in the same place all together in five years. The perfect setting for potential disaster.
Actually, not too much drama with the fam. Just the normal you-get-on-my-nerves-I-can't-stand-you-but-I-love-you jabs and omg-my-parents-are-really-drunk-and-saying-embarrassing-things rolling of the eyes. It's weird that my brother is getting married though. He's the oldest kid, so was always the one getting into trouble and now he has his life together. It's really great for him, but being someone who can't get married, it actually made me kind of jealous. Will I ever be able to get my life together?
Wednesday, May 5, 2010
Dinner 12
Wednesday, April 7, 2010
Dinner 11
I've gotten two bits of helpful feedback on this blog: a. include original recipes b. have more of a story. This week I attempted both of those things.
So, here is the back story for this week's dinner guest: Boy meets boy. Boys have several subdued dates. Boy can't figure out if other boy likes him or not. Boy awkwardly asks other boy and receives a confirmation, but then other boy is completely unavailable to hang out again. Boys stop talking to each other.
That back story was over a year ago and the boy was me and the other boy was my dinner guest. We started running into each other again, so I invited him. As was his usual style he agreed, but on the day of, postponed. He came the next day, but was totally late.
Narratives
Despite all the check minuses my guest had accumulated by the time he arrived, he was much more comfortable and conversational than in the past. Before, we almost exclusively talked about school (he studies architecture), but now he shared a lot about his life. He told me about his crazy weekend: an awkward blind date with a guy who "accidentally" missed the BART and had to spend the night even though my guest wasn't into him (if we're trying to make this blog a story, think of this element as foreshadowing), a dinner party with his cousin and a group of handsome older gays, bar hopping, a Vicodin trip, and an all day walk across the city.
We lapsed back into shop talk, but we found common ground through one of my favorite (and his) mediums: the music video. He was interested in the architectural and digital space of videos from directors like Sam Brown, while I was interested in the problem of limited narratives in all media and how the music video also has this problem but in some cases may disrupt it. I proposed this idea: there are only like three kinds of narrative in the world that are repeated over and over (ex: the hero's journey, a stranger comes to town, etc.) and that these limited amounts of narratives are why the world is falling apart (environment, politics, culture, you name it). The discussion went in many directions and we decided we should watch music videos in order to support our ideas with evidence. Greyhound Talapia with Spicy Couscous. My guest said he liked the fish (I thought it was kind of weird), but he put the salad on top in order to choke it down, so he couldn't have liked it that much. Recipe follows.
We spent a long time watching music videos, drinking wine, and chatting about narratives in my room. We tried to figure out if certain videos disrupted narrative or enhanced the narratives of songs. Or if the director imposed her own narrative on the song or what about videos that had no narrative at all? For dessert, I baked sweet potato wedges with cinnamon and brown sugar, topped them with frozen yogurt and drizzled them with my roommate's leftover raspberry sauce.
Attack of the CrotchBrain
So, there we were, sitting on my bed having a great conversation. And then I kissed my guest. And at first it was fine, he kissed back. But, he pulled away and made some vague excuse about being tipsy and needing to get home. Unfortunately, his bus didn't come for another 30 minutes, so we awkwardly chatted until he left.
The disappointing part of the whole ordeal is not the embarrassment of making a move and getting rejected (believe me, I'm used to rejection), but the fact that I made a move in the first place. That is not the point of this project. But somehow, my secret crotchbrain snuck up on me and helped me position my guest in such a way (wine, music, my room) that the move could be made. Where did my stomachheart go? Why did I try to force a narrative (the narrative of the two boys meeting and drifting off into the sunset)? Just like some music videos, a dinner can happen without some predictable outcome; it can just be a series of bites and ideas and songs. Despite the fact that there are limited kinds of narratives in books, movies, etc. doesn't mean that people are narratives. And we don't have to follow them. I'll try to stop following my crotchbrain and get back to my stomachheart.
Coconut Split Pea Soup
2 cups of dry split peas (I used half green and half yellow) 1 yellow onion2 cloves garlic
3 tablespoons oil
2 carrots
1 bay leaf
2 kaffir lime leaves
1 vanilla bean
1 teaspoon thyme
1 teaspoon basil
1 chicken bouillon
salt and pepper to taste
1 can of coconut milk
6 cups water
Sautee the onions and garlic in oil. Add the split peas and 6 cups of water. Add the spices, bouillon, and carrots. Cook for 30 minutes until peas are soft and little liquid is left. Add the coconut milk and simmer for 10 more minutes.
Greyhound Talapia
4 Talapia fillets
Juice of 1 Grapefruit
2 tablespoons vodka
2 tablespoons olive oil
2 teaspoons dry basil
Combine the grapefruit juice, vodka, oil and basil. Pour over the Talapia and marinade for at least 3 hours. Place talapia and the rest of the marinade in a baking dish and bake for 15 minutes at 350 degrees. I added mushrooms and served it with quinoa with sprinkles of tumeric, cumin, and cayenne.
Wednesday, March 31, 2010
Dinner 10
I've been doing this blog for 10 weeks so I decided to switch it up. As a reward to myself, I let my date turn the tables. I became the guest and he was the host.

I caught this week's date staring at me at a queer dance party. I had to leave with my friends so I told him to look at missed connections the next day. He replied right away with two apologies:
A. He was taken aback when I was so forward and introduced myself, so he was awkward.
B. He had a boyfriend... but he still wanted to hang out.
Well, I'd heard that story before, but I invited him to dinner anyway. Surprisingly, he said I should take a break and he would cook for me. It's about time!
Company
Anniversaries are best celebrated in groups. Even big anniversaries for couples are more fun when their friends are present. This anniversary was no different. I arrived at an old Victorian full of cool, interesting people who immediately took me in. My host lives in a collective-like house where they share groceries, meals, and space comfortably and fluidly. While my host cooked and chatted with me, one person made ice cream, yogurt and granola, another read heavy philosophy, one played with the cat, one broke a measuring cup, and another swept it up.

Host vs. Guest
My host and I agreed on one thing: we hated being served. I tried to help cook and clean up, but I repeatedly got in the way. When he filled a glass of water for me to drink, I felt awkward standing right next to him. I could do it myself. I realized that I am the cook and I like to give to people. Even though the idea of someone making dinner for me sounded great, I am most comfortable when I am on my own turf and play by my rules.
Wednesday, March 24, 2010
Dinner 9
Much like his quirky attitude in e-mails, my dinner guest this week showed up snappily dressed. He had on dress shoes, white shirt and pants, a black vest, and a bright red tie. He spoke with a charming Australian accent, but the things he said were not charming.
I asked my guest for one food that he liked and one he disliked. I incorporated both into the menu. He likes olives. I made a simple garden salad with cucumber, heirloom tomatoes, almonds and cranberries. The dressing included olive tapenade with olive oil and balsamic.
Although funny and easy enough to talk to, my dinner guest considered himself a little bit of all of the holy trinity of awkward types of people: a dork, a nerd, and a geek. I swore to distance myself from torturous interactions with these people after going to a big engineering school for undergrad. But here I was again: in for the long haul. And although I was entertained, by the end I was more exhausted from the conversation than by the intense meal I had just cooked up.
Ugly Combinations My guest disliked asparagus. To hide it, I made mashed potatoes (with purple and red potatoes) and mixed in pureed asparagus. I also added tons of garlic and butter to hide the taste. It looks sort of disgusting though.
I learned a lot about various conventions: Dr. Who Conventions (“full of fat gays”), Star Trek Conventions (“full of fat straight people with two kids”) and Furry Conventions. He spilled on the latter, when I asked him where he had met most of his friends. He told me that one day he was like, “Hmm. Where could I meet a bunch of interesting, weird people? A Furry Convention of course!” So, he met furries on-line and now he lives with a bunch. There is furry porn all over the walls of his apartment and he brings over people he wants to freak out or scare off. Interestingly enough, he’s not interested in furries sexually and has never hooked up with someone in an animal suit. Probably one of my favorite dishes from this project: Spicy Tuna with Mango Salsa.
He ate slowly because he said he enjoyed the food so much (even though he only took a small spoon of mashed potatoes). In exchange for gulping down my own food (I still haven’t learned any manners) I had to field many questions about obscure things I knew nothing about. For example: “Do you know the origin of winkle toes?” I had no idea what a winkle toes even was. Well, obviously it’s the name for those spiral-toed shoes that elves might wear and the name comes from the object that extracts a winkle from its home (I didn’t know what a winkle was either; it’s a sea creature with a shell like a snail). I also learned about a lot of random, little-known musicians whose names I can’t remember. He said he likes music that's interesting, not necessarily good. I guess I’m glad I can’t remember the names.For dessert: vanilla frozen yogurt with strawberries and a balsamic vinegar reduction. It came out a little thick and solidified when it hit the ice cream. I still can’t get it right.
Blackbirds
He did ask me one question to which I knew the answer. “What’s with the four-and-twenty blackbirds baked in a pie? Can you even fit that many?” I had researched a lot about the history of cookbooks and I learned about an Italian cookbook from the 16th century that has a recipe "to make pies so that birds may be alive in them and flie out when it is cut up." The nursery rhyme was actually based on a recipe. I guess I’ll admit it. I can be a nerd, too. At least when it comes to food.Sunday, March 21, 2010
Dinner Guest 9
1. What snacks would you bring on a picnic?
A Roman feast - wine, dates and pistachios. Cheese would also be a right answer, maybe figs too.
2. If your lover served you a terrible meal, what would you do?
Depends if he's having a bad day or it's par for the course. If it's a bad day, politeness and encouragement never go astray. But I confess I used to go out with someone and after he burnt pancakes, ruined porridge and failed at pasta I couldn't help but poke a bit of fun.
3. Where is your favorite place to do grocery shopping?
There's a rather trendy independent supermarket near where I live that sells a lot of fancy produce and real bread. I mean, *real bread* which I can't get at the Mexican supermarket or Safeway. The trendy place is expensive, though, and only for special occasions like birthdays and funerals.
If you're interested in having me over, I'd really appreciate, if I may, your answers to three questions of my own choosing:
1. You have a very complicated machine which does nothing. Which would you prefer - keeping it a secret even though you can't do anything with it, or telling people about it and at least making some conversation out of it?
2. What piece of music do you want played at your funeral?
3. If you could ask any figure in history the questions you asked me, who would it be?
Honestly, I mostly chose him because he actually was bold enough to ask questions of his own. Hmm... good idea/bad idea?
Wednesday, March 17, 2010
Dinner 8
A boring salad. I made the dressing with olive oil, balsamic vinegar, honey, mustard, salt, pepper. You can add oranges and pecans for something a bit more exciting.
The same dinner guest from the last two weeks came again for this week's dinner. But things had changed. I hadn't seen him since last week and he was vague about his whereabouts. He almost didn't come because he had to go to the gym and it was very late by the time he arrived. He still said sweet things like he always said. He said he liked me and missed me. When I suggested we start making dinner, he said, "You are my dinner and my breakfast and my lunch and dessert (cheesy, I know)."
But I felt myself getting cold. If he liked me that much why could he barely hang out with me? Why was going to the gym more important? I couldn't return kind phrases and dinner came out plain and intentionally unispired.
I knew the parameters of our relationship when we first met. He would be leaving in a month and he was closeted so had to keep his life comparmentalized. I saw what I was getting into and I thought I would be okay with it. And admittedly, I was blinded by how attractive and sexy he was.
But the actual taste of the situation doesn't work for me. I have different needs that he can't provide. There's no point in tormenting myself over something that doesn't fit my stomachheart. In this case it isn't so much that my eyes are bigger than my stomach, but maybe my stomachheart can't survive on sight alone. We all need something that we can hold onto and take our time to digest and enjoy. So next week, an all new dinner guest!