Well, so much for cooking Amerrrrican for dem Swedish fellas. We ended up going to an Indian place in North Berkeley (they'd had Thai for lunch, apparently the other logical option). They'll have to leave Amerrrica without tasting the true cuisine of this place. What a shame. Well, I suppose they have had several weeks in the States to taste real American food all around the West coast in their random travels from SoCal to Vegas to Yosemite to Napa... so I'm sure they've had their fill of Taco Bell and Value Menu Fried Animal Endings (let's be serious here, they're grad students too- granted, far better paid grad students, but grad students all the same). And who are we kidding, Berkeley isn't America. Can Berkeley even be considered part of America? I'm sure someone's tried to secede at one point or another... I wouldn't be surprised to find, somewhere in the deepest stacks of either the University or Public Library, Berkeley town ordinance 481.P.1 states, 'As of this 27th day of October 1978, the City of Berkeley has withdrawn all association with the greater State of California and United States of America, in order to form a more perfect union under the leadership of [enter name of distressed individual now living in People's Park] and [enter name of Happy Happy Happy man (don't believe me?)]'.
And Berkeley food isn't real American food. I mean really. In a two-block radius in North Berkeley, we have Chez Panisse (history), the Cheeseboard Collective and Cheeseboard Pizza, Cesar, Saul's, Gregoire, Cha Am, The French Hotel, Masse's, and Lo Coco's (a personal favorite); four blocks away, Alice Waters' original Edible Schoolyard at Martin Luther King Jr. Middle School, near the Monterey Market, Pizzeria Gioia, the Hopkins St. Bakery, and Espresso Roma. There's a reason it's called the 'Gourmet Ghetto'.
So, no, instead of cooking Amerrrican, or Berkeley, we had Indian. I have to say, I am continually impressed by Swedish men (I know this is a generalization, but all those I have met in the last few years have been quite interesting and courteous, and I would like to pay a compliment to my new friends, so bear with me). Along with a wonderful conversation about the behavior of non-spherical particles in turbulence, internal waves, muesli vs. granola, experimental vs. observational science, how to make money in Vegas (blackjack), and just how difficult it is to pee off the side of a canoe, I learned that the names of more expensive types of Ikea furniture are actually curses used to invoke the wrath of Norse gods. Though that may not have been brought up by the Swedish gentlemen, it was confirmed; in addition, the ridiculous wealth of Ikea's owner is apparently a matter of contention, as he seems to claim he is poor (figure that one out). Also, I was reminded that politeness means something different in Europe than America; it would have been rude to ask for a box, as we all did tonight. Good thing to remember for Rome in four days!
All in all, less of a food adventure than expected, but intriguing nonetheless.
Tip for the day: find yourself an interesting Swede.
In the meantime, a line from a jaunty sea shanty:
Come along, come along, you jolly brave boys, there's lots of grog in the jar, we'll plough the briny ocean with the jolly roving tar!
and a random song/video that has been stuck in my head, if you haven't seen it yet, you should (those of you who know me will have seen this, I apologize): Someone like you
Cheers and goodnight.
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