Age sixteen was a turning point for me: I had finally started to blossom. Not like the other girls my age — but rather my spiral permed bangs were growing out and I had discovered hyper color tshirts. My plastic, octagon-shaped, white glasses with smurfs emblazoned on each side had been replaced with clear, octagon-shaped glasses that had an off-putting yellowing tint, and stone washed jeans were in style. Given those recent developments, I decided that this period in my life was the perfect time to mingle with other teens at the 16+ “dance clubs” in random suburban strip malls. It was my friend Aimee’s idea, and since she was super hot and naturally tan, I thought we were both going to have an equally good time “clubbing”. Obviously I was wrong. To start off, I was the only person wearing Hammer pants.

Within a few seconds of our arrival a boy with a bowl cut (that’s right…) appeared through the green and pink tinted smoke machine exhaust and asked Aimee to dance. She was flattered (naturally), and wanting to pass on some of her good fortune to others, promised to dance with him only if his friend danced with me. I watched in nervous anticipation as the two boys — both in oversized t-shirts and white baseball caps — conferred on the offer.  Finally they came back with a solid decision:  “no deal”.  I think she danced with him anyways. 

I can remember that feeling vividly as it is the same one I used to get every time I walked into a chef-y restaurant with Daniel. He is the super hot, meat eating gentleman with a “sophisticated palate” who will most likely get the wine pairing. And I am the vegetarian who will probably order a soda with my meal. No one wants to dance with me. 

I can see the disdainful look on the waiter’s face when he takes my order.  I know that he is going back to the kitchen to confer with the chef, each present their version of a heavy eye roll, and then prepare one of two tasting menus for the “a-hole at table 2″: I will either receive 10 dishes of beets in varying forms, or I will get the same tasting menu as Daniel, but the kitchen will simply remove the bacon.  I actually dont really like beets, and the second option really sucks…but as a vegetarian at a fancy restaurant, I know that I should feel lucky I am even allowed in the place. So I eat what I’m given.  The meal is usually finished with a copy of the meat tasting menu that I can take home with me. 

This has been my experience at many chef-y restaurants. Given this track record, I tend to show up at these joints without much expectation. But sometimes, there are exceptions to the rule. And as of late, Ive been experiencing many exceptions.  Such was the case when we dropped into Etxebarri during our recent visit to Spain. Now normally, I choose not to do a foodie-style photo breakdown of the meal… But by God, that chef’s mother must have been a vegetarian — Because he treated me like I was really loved. Each dish was simple, carefully thought out and completely meat and fish free. Foodie-style photo breakdown is below. 

Mushrooms (Hygrophorus Maruolus) at Etxebarri

Now, despite my job (where I document food), anyone who knows me knows that I would prefer a huge bowl of spaghetti with tomato sauce eaten in sweatpants on the couch over a 10-course tasting menu any day. But I also know that dinner at one of these restaurants is an art form, and being able to experience it is something that makes me very lucky. When you take in a painting, you want to understand what the artist was thinking, what was behind each piece. The same happens when you see a beautiful and thoughtfully created dish. And when someone presents me with produce from their chef’s own garden, hand picks and de-shells each individual pea, and (what I can only assume is) kisses it before putting it onto my plate… you take notice. The dishes at Etxebarri were pure examples of how good each main element (a mushroom, a green bean, a pepper) could be,  and each made me kick myself that I didnt like vegetables until last year. It was so good that Daniel (you know, that popular meat eater from the beginning of the post) even recommended one of our meat loving friends to pose as a vegetarian when coming to Etxebarri for an upcoming meal. 

To be fair, there are a handful of restaurants Ive visited where I was humbled and honored by their veggie tasting menu in the past couple years (Herb Farm, McCradys, Michel Bras to name a few). But those experiences were also dotted with the other, not-so-veggie friendly meals. In my opinion, being a good chef means you are able to make a great dish out of any ingredient — be it meat, vegetable, grain or cheese. At the very least, you should look at each item as a challenge.  So, to scoff at having a vegetarian customer is pretty unfortunate. Luckily, I think more and more restaurants are starting to be in agreement with me on that one.

In the past 3 months, Daniel has found himself eating off of my plate, as the menus at restaurants across Europe have been making non-meat dishes to envy. These are extremely well know and reputable places where, in many cases, over 60% of the menu is vegetarian in the first place.  I would list off these restaurants here, but that would make me sound obnoxious. So, if you’re a vegetarian and looking to be treated with the same care bestowed upon the meat eaters, email me and Ill tell ya’ where to go.  

The good news is Meat, in many cases, is slowly becoming something special again — meaning it doesn’t have to be in every dish and doesnt have to be eaten every day. Consequently, vegetables are becoming special… which means, when it comes to eating at a fancy restaurant, I’m starting to feel special too. 

If you’ve never had the pleasure of being transported on one of these things, this is the type of ride where you can actually see your pilot (as he or she is usually sitting directly in front of you, beside you, or on your lap). And I can remember white knuckling the worn leather seat of my chair, fearing for my life and feeling not totally OK with the fact that my pilot was wearing a neon blue scrunchie in her hair. She also had a matching cell phone.

Normally you don’t get to see the person who is flying your plane, which is maybe how it should be. Because at that point, I was listening to the rattling of the windows as we rocked back and forth in the eastern wind currents in a tiny plane being piloted by someone who, in my opinion, didn’t make the best choices.

Now I bring this up because 1. We actually survived that flight, and 2. Quite the opposite of our Martha’s Vineyard pond jump, I actually really enjoy our international flights. There are many reasons for this: First, you dont see pilot, but instead just hear their soothing voice over the loudspeaker telling you that everything is going to be ok. And then you get to veg out in front of a TV for 10-19 hours while someone serves you TV dinners; The bathrooms are nice, the floor is carpeted, and I’m the perfect size to fit just neatly into an airplane seat so there is minimal discomfort or cramping. In fact, after experiencing a bulged disk in my neck from too much editing (I know, I just give so much to my job) the 20+ hours of flying to India actually made me feel better. Plus, this is the first introduction to the country in which we are about to visit…if you’re into blatant stereotyping. On the way to Japan, the stewardesses were amazingly polite and dressed in super chic uniforms; heading to China the attendants were brusk and acted like they hated me (though I will note that my fellow Chinese passengers were incredibly friendly); en route to India, I was sandwiched in between two rows of small children and served all vegetarian food — and not because I had specified it on the “special needs” tab of my ticket purchase, but because that’s what everyone was eating; On our way to Sri Lanka, the sweet stewardesses wore flowers in their hair and teal eye shadow to match their teal dresses. I actually find myself feeling a little disappointed when the “one hour till landing” announcement comes over the loudspeaker.

There are only two bad experiences I remember on long flights. The first was in 1998 when my mom convinced an unsuspecting flight attendant to walk up and down the aisle yelling “mirra fine, your mom says you forgot your fanny pack” until I raised my hand to retrieve the bright orange stomach purse. The pack actually wasn’t mine but a decoy my mom had planted to create (what I can only assume was) a character building experience for me. (She also convinced me at age 11 to perm my bangs into a spiral curl which I think was another attempt at building character). The other incident was more recent. On Hour 6 of an international trip home, our pilot got on the loudspeaker to notify us of impending turbulence, and then describe in great emotional detail how horrible we should expect it to be. Naturally, I found myself scanning the plane in a hysterical panic trying to decide who I would have to mate with in order to continue civilization in the event that our plane went down. But, turns out it was just a fire drill… The pilot had just overreacted. As had I, apparently.

Many people may think of international flights as horrible, soul sucking experiences. And I understand that there are challenges. For example, 20 hours of sharing only 6 bathrooms with 200 other people who just spent 3 weeks in India maybe isn’t ideal. But hey, the fact that you’re in that situation means that you just spent 3 weeks in India! And that’s awesome. Yes, occasionally a 2am flight home from Sri Lanka will be delayed 5 hours, and that will mean you miss your connecting flight in England. And it is Dec. 23rd. But again, you just spent 2 weeks in Sri Lanka… And now you get 5 more hours!..to lie on the airport floor and think about how wonderful your trip was!

My love for the international flights goes deep. Not only is it a means to an end, but it’s a relaxing one at that. The 12-19 hours I spend at 30,000 feet is the calm before the intense, crazy storm of nonstop travel, heavy lifting and intense filming for usually 4 weeks straight. The “pampering” before the bulged disk, if you will. Don’t get me wrong, the bulged disk is totally worth all that we get to experience when actually on the ground in these countries… but so is what it took to get us there.

For more information and an interactive map, visit http://www.equalexchange.coop/expedition

When I first started making these films I made the decision to share PERSPECTIVES, not FACTS.  This decision was mostly based on the fact that I did not have the means (time/money) to make a critical documentary every week that weighs out the pros and cons, differing opinions, etc. let alone figure out my own answer to those questions.  With our two-person team, we are able instead to share the life of an individual or two and within that realm, present their point of view.  I also chose to try and make the stories be mostly positive (when possible).  The purpose of the series is to encourage a better food system in the world. So along with encouraging discussion, we wanted our films to inspire.

In creating these pieces, we may film between 3-12 hours of footage (sometimes more) film many hours of footage. And we cut it down to just 5 minutes (give or take).  In that space, there are a lot of choices to be made.  We could choose to make our characters look eloquent or angry, smart or funny.  It’s hard because you want to present the full spectrum of the person and their story, but we want to try to make something that fits within a timing that is Internet friendly.  So what we try to do is best represent the experience we had.  We try to share the message and personality of the people we meet.  We do this by sharing the main points of their message or what struck us as the most honest points.  We don’t feel the need to share all the details, and instead look for the moments of authenticity: whether that is through a joke, an awkward moment or talking about a completely different subject.

Which brings us back to our latest video and Dr. Vandana Shiva. She is a passionate woman who is at war with pesticides, with GMOS… with Monsanto.  To share an interview with her without presenting that passion would be to misrepresent her.   In fact, the first draft of our video didn’t have the initial 2-minute interview decrying Monsanto.  We were initially afraid that people would be turned off by the bias of the message, especially considering how difficult it is to find TRUTH around these issues (much of the information around GMOs and Farmer Suicides is up for debate: http://www.ifpri.org/sites/default/files/publications/ifpridp00808.pdf ).  So in Vandana’s opening statement in our video, some people might claim that is untrue, or an exaggeration.  To understand and share all sides, we would need to do a full documentary on the subject.  So do we leave out her passionate call to action that she claims to be true?   We thought it was important to share her thoughts on Farmer Suicides in order to properly frame her work in Seed Saving.

I guess this post is sort of like a get out of jail free card…  by saying we aren’t sharing facts, but rather one person’s perspective, that takes us out of the blame of misinformation —  A morally dubious position to be in, especially in this age of misinformation.  But to tell you the truth: it’s one of the only honest places to be.  With such partisanship in politics, it’s hard to know where any truth lies.  You can’t believe studies, you can’t believe speeches or even “facts” – so it becomes difficult to share anything but a person’s passion.  As the Gandhi quote at the end of the video says “A ‘No’ uttered from the deepest conviction is better than a ‘Yes’ merely uttered to please, or worse, to avoid trouble”.  We wanted to share Dr. Vandana Shiva’s “NO”.  We think that despite her bias, she is a woman with deep conviction who represents a perspective and idea that we can get behind.  That being said, with all of our films, we hope that you use it as a jumping off point for more discovery, discussion and the opportunity to make up your own mind.  I would love to hear your thoughts on the subject.  Thanks!

Over the next four weeks, we’ll be releasing cooking segments featuring recipes from India, Japan, China and Sri Lanka.  If you don’t quite catch everything from the video (it goes pretty fast), we will also be posting the details on our recipe page.  Unlike the videos on our website these videos will have advertisements (and they can be for just about anything).  We’ve always made sure to keep ads off our primary videos and it will continue to be that way, but if you want to watch our cooking shows, you may have to sit through an ad about a dating service or corn derived food product.  Still, we are super proud of the new series and hope you enjoy the recipes and the show as much as we enjoyed making them.

btw – the awesome intro was made by Squawk Productions 

ps – please comment on youtube, apparently it really helps.  thanks!

THANK YOU!

Day one in india we hit the pavement in search of all the streets had to offer. Daniel skipped down the sidewalk past cows and stray goats, men on bicycles sharpening knives and carts of coconuts waiting to be chopped open and outfitted with flimsy fluorescent straws used to get every last drop of that sweet water.  Women in beautiful saris with children in tow walked gracefully past us, their bangles clinging together at every step. Pregnant dogs and fresh new puppies ran around like they owned the place. But we were after something else: food. Daniel has preached the gospel of Indian street food since I met him. Ive been hearing stories for years of grown, barefoot men in loose fitting, (and almost sheer) white button down shirts and brown slacks standing above round hot plates and twirling roti dough, sautéing potatoes or steaming idli. Just as China knows their fried rice and Japan knows their fish, India will throw down when it comes to treats on the street. And despite the cautionary warnings of food poisoning, poor hygiene and dirt, I was planning to truly take in India. And it started here.

This was actually quite exciting for me. After my mom’s dog Oliver (and, of course, Daniel), Indian food is my one true love. So with eyes wide open and a pocket full of Cipro, I touched down in the country ready to experience, quite literally, all it had to offer.  On our first Mumbai morning, we made a beeline to the streets and immediately saw what we were looking for. On one corner sat a group of men in the middle of the cobblestone road, perched on plastic stools and accepting paratha’s and uttapam; a few feet away Muslim men were doling out pani puri. Each makeshift kitchen was outfitted with a long line of men on cellphones and in similar outfits eating off paper plates with their fingers (no utensils necessary). I followed as Daniel walked from one stall to the next pushing his way through the crowd to get to the center stage of the operation. He’d order a snack and we would watch the men perform their daily dance of cooking: they’d slap a dollop of dosa batter onto the hot black surface and methodically swirl and flatten it into a pancake shape; they’d bounce samosas and other fried delights from one wok to another without sparing a single drop of oil; they’d shape rotis with their hands before cooking and packaging them up in a piece of newspaper in one fail swoop. The routine was mesmerizing, and also overwhelming as we were trying our best to keep our footing from the hordes of men attempting to push their way in.

But Daniel stood his ground and I looked to him for guidance and protection in the new and unknown sea of hungry men. I felt protected and safe in this gastronomical adventure as he was looking out for me — he’d been to India 3 times before and had never once gotten sick. So it made me feel good to have him there — explaining what to eat and not eat, making sure I knew what was too spicy, and what Id be foolish to skip.  Each time he bought another snack, he’d hand it to me to try. And as I ate each piece of potato, each beautifully uneven chapati, and walked through the steam and smoke of the stalls on the street, I was excited for what I was eating and especially for what was coming next. 

After about a half hour of going from one outdoor stove to the another, I was caught by a sight at the end of the block. A scraggly man in an unkept beard and pools of sweat forming up and down his almost see-through shirt was motioning at me. He was standing above a card table outfitted with four pots of steaming food: dal, curry, rice and fried bread. He had peaked my interest. And so, as usual, I turned towards Daniel for the go ahead. He returned my curious gaze with encouragement: “you want to try it?” He said with a smile. “Go ahead!” So I walked over as the man slopped three spoonfuls of amazing looking indian mush on each of the 4 divots of a tin tray. Taking a cue from the other patrons I grabbed my plate and began assisting the food into my mouth using my hand as a spoon. Occasionally I’d look up and see Daniel who seemed to be beaming my way. “He’s proud of me”, I thought to myself as I tucked in that last piece of fry bread.

And he was. After I finished my last bite, Daniel walked over and put his arm around me. “I cant believe you actually ate that” he laughed, with true happiness in his eyes. “I wouldnt have“.

By the way, I DID get sick in india, but not off the street food. No, that day on the street, my judgement was well placed as I partook in the local fare. It was only two weeks later, when we ate at a well established, fancy tourist restaurant in Udaipur that I got to experience the other part of India that I had heard so much about. So what is the lesson we learned here? Eat what the locals eat.

Last February we were invited by Intrepid Travel to go on one of their food related trips to Vietnam.  Excited by the opportunity to eat our way across the land of pho, we jumped on board.  There were no obligations, but we brought our camera along and filmed everything we ate.  The result was an extremely popular montage of our trip – see “A Taste of Vietnam.”

It was around the time that video came out that our Road Trip season was coming to an end and we were wondering what to do next.   We knew we wanted to continue to make films, but didn’t want to spend another full year on the road.  So we approached Intrepid Travel.  They are, after all, a company that had some similar goals as us: promote local culture/food/economy, encourage understanding and dialogue, and advocate for travel as a way to become more engaged world citizens (I guess that wasn’t a goal when the show started, but we do see it as important).

We suggested to them that we visit 6 countries — creating several Perennial Plate style episodes (and one “A Taste of Vietnam” style food montage) in each.  We wanted to share the inspiring stories of people producing their own food around the world.  But we also liked the idea that through our stories of real life experiences and people, folks would be inspired to travel.  Not just travel, but engage and challenge their perspectives on global relationships.   To our great surprise, they came back with the idea of going to 12 countries!  Hallelujah!

What resulted is really an amazing partnership.  I don’t know if it’s part of Australian culture (Intrepid is from there), but it isn’t often that you work with a company that is so understanding and flexible.

Our relationship works as follows:  We find stories, often with the help of guides from Intrepid.  Then we plan a trip based around those stories as well as visiting some of the great travel/food spots in the country.  Along with taking video for our PP series, we also capture pictures and videos that Intrepid can use in their own marketing campaigns.  We have complete creative control in our work, but we owe it to Intrepid for helping to make this happen. Their guides act as our translators and bring us to lesser-known spots that they frequent on their normal itineraries.  To “advertise” the partnership, we share their logo/links on our videos and on our website, we also write blog entries and recipes for them about our experiences in country.

I believe in travel.  I know it has large environmental drawbacks.  But visiting the world brings new understanding and tolerance.  Hopefully some of our videos bring that out too.

So any doubts or curiosity that you may have had about the relationship, I hope this makes sense.  Intrepid Travel obviously wants people to go on trips.  But they also want to foster a more understanding and sustainable world.  And by supporting our project, they think that will encourage people to do so – I happen to agree.  But regardless, I’m extremely happy to have the opportunity to work with them, to travel the world and share these real life experiences.

Prior to leaving for China, we spent a couple months researching subjects.  It’s harder than you think.  Searching “organic” “sustainable” and all the other key words related to food that we like, in China, yielded the same crop of farmers or restaurants around Beijing.  I’m sure they were great stories, but we aren’t trying to rehash the “same old”.  We reached out to the folks at Intrepid Travel (our partners), to numerous bloggers, expats and friends who had once lived in China, to little avail.  When we finally came up with stories that sounded great, we still didn’t know much about the subjects.  Our information was based on a contact in country, sharing our information to the subjects and the subject’s information to us.  Hardly reliable.  But trust we must.

Then we fly halfway around the world.  Intrepid Travel provides us with a guide/translator and we drive 8 hours to the obscure location in Yunnan province that we hope might work out.  We arrive at said location, hoping that we’ve flown all this way for a story that is worth sharing.  And it is, of course.  It always is.

Our story in this case is about a young woman who defies expectations of becoming a doctor/lawyer/businesswoman to open a restaurant and continue to work with her parents’ farm.  It’s a beautiful story. And she spends a couple days with us — devoting her time and her story to sharing with us.  Her parents cook a beautiful meal, bring us to their farm and teach us how to make tofu.  We film the whole time, filling up card after card of footage.  Everything is so striking that it is hard to put the camera down.

After two jam-packed days, we depart at midnight.  Happy with what we’ve captured, frightened by the possibility that our next story might not come through, and gearing up for what will be a lot of editing.  But before we can edit, we have to translate.  This means finding someone who speaks Hani and English perfectly.  We couldn’t find that.  So we had someone translate the Hani to Mandarin and then someone else translate the Mandarin into English. By the time the translation is done, over a month has passed since the inspiring 2 days we spent with our subject.  We re-watch the hours of footage.  Read over the transcripts and try to piece together a story that will appeal to our audience.  A story that rings true to you, that rings true to our experience, that shares the passion of our subject and is within the internet attention span length.

It’s good work, it’s rewarding, and we think the result is beautiful.  All in all, to create the 5 minute video that is up on our website…it took us months.  It took 2 full days for our subject.   It took thousands of dollars from our partners and the time and expertise of several of their staff.  It took a lot to create this snippet of life in Yunnan Province.  And the purpose of that work, is to share it with you.  So when you see our tweet or Facebook message, when you consider pressing play or watching the whole video, know that this isn’t just something that appears on your computer.  This took heart and soul, hours of work and jet fuel, and from the subjects: passion for creating a better food system.  Please watch and please enjoy.

As a vegetarian, you never expect to write an ode to food in China. And yet, here I am trying my best not to break into poetry as I describe the two weeks I spent in the country. Which is proving difficult, as my experience feels like all puppies and butterflies — and surprisingly, not in the literal sense.

We were 4 hours outside of Beijing, driving through small villages and towns, which mean something very different in China. In a country pushing 1 billion, a modest village can include 460,000 people. We had just come from spending a night at the Great Wall — a lesser-populated/lesser-known (if that’s possible) area with very limited tourists. Our morning jaunt up the wall to catch the sunrise involved seeing 8 other people, all from other parts of China, and most wanting to take their pictures with us as we were the first foreigners they’d ever seen. I was actually quite surprised that I stood out. After spending two weeks in Japan with all the super hot girls in fancy clothing and fake eyelashes, I was like a sore thumb in my travel attire (which had become strangely similar to my non travel attire) of hiking boots, unflattering jeans and an over-sized sweatshirt. But in China I felt quite at home in my style. Daniel had taken up the habit of pointing out middle-aged Chinese women who shared my fashion sense, and I had (many times) made a promise to start dressing cooler when I got home. But for now, from the back you couldn’t necessarily tell that I wasn’t from the country.

It was around 8am when our driver, Pei, pulled the car over to a psuedo strip mall parking lot on the side of the road. The lot was dirty and dotted only with one or two broken down cars, a bicycle, a pullcart, and (as per usual) a handful of stray chickens. I wasnt that hungry and considering I was in China where, you know, they eat dog and all, I wasnt feeling too optimistic about what we would find here. But Pei insisted that it was a good, quick place to stop on our long drive home. He thought he had been there once before.

We pulled in the driveway and right up to a rusty, old card table staffed by two women who seemed to be around my age and of likeminded fashion sense. On the uncovered (and not totally clean) table sat a tower of trays stacked a foot and a half high. Each layer was encased in its own corresponding cloud of steam that, combined as a whole, drifted into the air almost covering the line of working men standing anxiously by. I watched as one of the men approached and was welcomed by the taller of the two women as she struggled with the cover of the top tray. It finally opened releasing billowing, warm steam — and the strong smell of meat and deliciousness — into the chilly air. The perfumed haze dissipated just in time to expose beautiful, soft white dumplings stuffed delicately into the tin platter. The man said something I didn’t understand, and the woman removed 5 dumplings and brusquely placed them — one by one — into a plastic bag for her morning customer.

At that moment, as I watched each perfectly packaged lump of steaming meat move from its incubator to its temporary new home, I hated that I was a vegetarian. This was sure to turn out like most of our experiences in Japan (where we had spent the previous two weeks). I would anxiously and hopefully watch as the waiter, street stall cook or market maid unveiled the most incredible-looking item of food, and then only after I had salivated profusely, would be told they didn’t have any vegetarian options.  Now, standing on the side of the road in middle of nowhere China, I was brought back to my reality. And just as I was kicking myself for not packing more granola bars (as my dad had insisted) our guide chimed in and asked how many dumplings I wanted. “They’ve got vegetarian options.”

For a second, I thought I was hallucinating from the intense smell of roasting pork juice.  But before my eyes, a streaming light from the heavens came down and the second steaming tray was opened to reveal cabbage-stuffed dumplings.  So to recap: We were standing in a parking lot on the side of the street next to a makeshift food stall with chickens, buffalos and stray cats running around, and grown men hocking loogies like it was their job… and I was presented with a vegetarian option. This was not the China I had heard about.

When I’d told friends or family members about my impending month in Asia (2 weeks in Japan and 2 weeks in China), as a vegetarian I always got the same response: Japan will be awesome, but good luck in China. Meaning, there’s no way a vegetarian would survive there. And how could I? In the place where they eat most things other cultures dont (you know, puppies and butterflies) it didn’t seem the best place for a person of my culinary preference. But as I soon learned, my experience was quite the opposite. It was in Japan that I had the most difficult time finding sustenance, and China where I was able to traipse around the country with ease. And here’s why: the difference between the two countries is in the Yin/Yang.

That circle dot swirly symbol that was a very popular tram stamp in the 90s was my saving grace when it came to travel in China. The philosophy of yin/yang balance is an extremely respected virtue that transcends all areas of Chinese culture.  Most importantly (for my immediate concerns), it also applies to the food. All ingredients are placed into either the Yin or the Yang category. Yin is designated to items that reduce the body’s temperature; Yang is reserved for items that increase the temperature. Most vegetables are designated as Yin items, and most meats as Yang items. Though Donkey Meat (yes, that’s what I said) and garlic are the major crossovers (“which is why we love donkey meat so much!”, one guide explained). It’s essential to have a balance of both items which is why, surprisingly, it was no trouble finding delicious things for me to eat.

My first morning in China opened to a street stall plastic table which was topped with steamed buns, tea eggs, fried dough and tofu soup. This was then followed up by a lunch of Jian Bing (that Chinese crepe thingy stuffed with egg, scallions and crispy cracker that you can see being assembled at the beginning of our “Travelers Republic of Tofu” video). This balance of all things gestational continued during our travels through the mainland. Some may even say my culinary experience through the Peoples Republic was nothing short of a miracle.

Now, for full disclosure, I cannot swear by the vegetarian-ness of any of these items. Though it wouldn’t be my preference, I was not able to make sure that these veggie delights on the side of the road, down a street alley or in the tiny kitchen of a village home were not cooked in a vat full of pork broth or simmered in onions and beef jus. I did not question why the vegetable dumplings were so rich and complex, nor why the tofu had so much flavor. And I know there are a number of fully vegetarian restaurants that you can find in any large city in Japan or China. But on these trips around the world, I want to (as much as possible, and within my moral standards) try the real food of the country — not the vegan attempt. In China, I was happily surprised and humbled by all the non-meat options that are actually eaten by the locals every day.

So, with great confidence, I will say that I loved China.  I embraced the toilets, the spitting on the streets, the waves of Chinese tourists in matching yellow hats, the bustling markets full of crazy food and innards I had never seen (and never particularly wanted to see), the crowded sidewalks, the stinky tofu, the public dancing (there’s a lot of it), and the staff at the Beijing airport who treated me like I had just insulted their mother (I swear, I had no clue that was their mother). And though I didn’t love them, I tolerated the donkey meat sandwiches, because next to them sat the vegetarian dumplings.

Best Meal: Sushiso Masa

Maybe you didn’t read the blog I wrote about this meal, but it blew my mind — forever changing my perception about sushi.  Don’t eat sushi twenty times at the crappy place down the street — eat it just once with a master. I get a giddy feeling when I eat something that is truly delicious. I had it with every bite at this restaurant.

Our trip to China was incredible in so many ways.  But walking through the rice fields of Yunnan province stands out.  This video — having been released around the holidays (and while we were in Sri Lanka) — hasn’t been seen as much as we’d like.  But it’s one of our favorites.  Imagine a 1,300 year old farming system that works perfectly with the enviroment, with the village, with the people… and then make it the most beautiful place you’ve ever seen.

Best New Partnership: Intrepid Travel

It’s not only the fact that we get to travel around the world that is great, it’s that we get to work with Intrepid Travel on making it happen.  They are a great company, but they are also great people.  It’s just a pleasure to have a collaboration of mutual respect.

My good friend Dan from Dogwood Coffee in Minneapolis had an espresso machine lying around (totally normal).  I put it in my house and my world changed.  Sure, I don’t get out as much — and I drink way too much coffee.  But…well, no that’s it. Sometimes I try to imagine my life before the espresso machine, and I just black out.

Most Fun Cooking: Gaijinner!

To celebrate the launch of Season 3 of our series and the first of the Japan videos, I cooked with Sean Brock and Brad McDonald at Governor restaurant in NYC.  Collaboration with a bunch of talented chefs is a fun way to spend a couple days.  Sadly, 2 days after the event, Sandy happened and destroyed the restaurant.  They are still rebuilding.  Help

Favorite Book: Beyond the Beautiful Forevers

I picked this book up before heading to India last month.  It’s non-fiction, but written like a novel. And through the story of a slum in Mumbai, this book shares some insight into why the poor of India aren’t rising up in revolution.  Devastating and inspiring.

Favorite Cookbook: Faviken

It has been a long time since a cookbook really made me think about how I cook.  Mostly, I look at the pictures and learn a few techniques.  But Faviken is all philosophy of cooking and it makes you want to cook naturally and perfectly.  I highly recommend this read.

Favorite Movie: Undefeated (but that’s from last year) and Beasts of the Southern Wild

Undefeatable is a documentary from last year, but I just watched it.  The film raises the bar for documentaries.  It may be about a football team, but the ammont of time that went into crafting what is essentially a fast paced action sports movie – only real.  Is Incredilbe.  And then Beasts of the Southern Wild is like a beautiful poem about what it means to be alive.

Biggest Loss: Mirra left my red sweatshirt on a plane to Montana. She has since bought me three red sweatshirts to replace the one she lost, but none can replace the original. Im trying to find some way to forgive her. But I just cant.

Biggest Win:  Chipotle and CIW together at last.

Tomato laborers have been fighting for a long time to get living wages and decent conditions.  One of our favorite episodes this year was about their plight.  Chipotle, for some reason, had been holding out.  But finally, the burrito kings and the impressive organization have found a way to work together.  Tacos and people’s lives are a lot better because of it.