Saturday, March 31, 2007
That's what USBC judge and uber-barista Aaron Ultimo told me once when I was hanging out at the Arlington Murky Coffee well over a year ago. It was a comment. It was a critique. It was a criticism.
And he was right.
It's the end of March and we're deep into competition season and rushing towards the United States Barista Championship being held in Long Beach, CA the weekend of May 5th. It's a madhouse time where baristas from across the country are in a practicing frenzy, working hard and long hours practicing and preparing for their fifteen minutes of fame and glory. They want to win. They want to stand there basking in the sunlight. They want to represent our nation in Tokyo at the World Championship.
But do I?
Don't get me wrong, I think I would be giddy winning the national championship. Whisked away by a new hand-carved chariot, it woud be a year of appearances on national television shows, glad-handing with leaders of nations, appearances with Pavarotti, the Metropolitan Opera, on stage with Metallica, Justin Timberlake and the Moody Blues, and bedding down celebutantes like Paris Hilton, Eliza Dushku and Britney Spears. Ok, maybe not Britney (been there, done that).
Imagine the groupies, the constant pawing of my body, the ripping of my clothes... Sheesh, and I have enough troubles with women already.
Ultimo is right, my biggest problem is that I don't take this seriously enough. I'm not doing it to win. My problem is that I don't care about winning, it's not part of my goals. I'm more interested in exploring tertiary aspects of the competition. Areas like attention to detail, ambience, service and delivery. I'm more interested in exploring coffee in a culinary presentation. Seeing if I can push the boundaries of how people think of coffee.
I see the barista craft today as that of the chef twenty years ago. Toiling in obscurity, with little respect and little recognition. It's time for the barista craft to wrestle that perception, push the bounds, demand respect, show respect for themselves and our craft and march towards the standard to today's chef. Competition is only a small component of that march.
The 2nd Annual Mid-Atlantic Regional Barista Competition has just completed and I captured Third Place. The Champ, Katie Carguilo, and the 2nd place finisher, Belle Batista, are wonderful barista competitors - excellent and tough competition and I'm proud to be ranked amongst them.
But for me, the Third Place finish rings a bit hollow and unsatisfying. True, many obstacles stood in my way to land that spot and it's pretty much miraculous that I made it there, but it's hollow and unsatisfying nonetheless.
And it's because I didn't remain true to my goals.
My first round signature drink was called "PBJ" - a deconstructed drink in three parts. The first part was a hazelnut puree mixed with espresso. You stir the ingredients and then sip. In a separate container is a fresh, handmade Black Grape gelee that you sip with the hazelnut/espresso to your liking (similar to how some like a lot of jelly or a little in their sandwich). And third is a small glass of whole milk to chase the drink. It's presented with straws and in cupware that's reminiscent of the malt shops and, hopefully, brings back memories of youth and childhood.
The presentation for the first round was choppy, staccato - I just couldn't find the groove. Since I never practiced and hadn't done a competition presentation in nearly one year, I had a hard time remembering where everything went and figured out order of service on the fly. A poor first espresso pull and I decided to dump those and pull a third. Inadequate milk in the pitchers and I ran out pouring the cappuccinos and had to steam more. Residue on the sides and I needed to wipe the capp cup after nearly setting it down. Add on top of that service experiments like a separate utensil plate (that needed to be wiped if a judge placed a soiled spoon back on the plate) and the involved prep of PBJ and I nearly disqualified myself with a 16:44 time.
For the uninitiated, regular competition time is 15 minutes. There's a five point penalty per sensory judge (there's four) for every thirty seconds over time and outright disqualification if you exceed 17 minutes. This resulted in an 80 point penalty for going that far overtime - usually death to any competitor's hope to advance to the next round.
Somehow, I scratched my way into the finals in spite of the penalty and poor performance. That's when I got sidetracked and lost my focus.
I had another drink sitting on the sidelines. One that involved roasted corn, but it wasn't quite finalized and I thought that I should play it safe and work the points. Try to win rather than stay true to my goals of exploring and pushing our craft. Blinded by this, I decided to use a variation of "Sweetness" - the drink that Bronwen Serna used to win the 2004 USBC. It's a simple drink that we serve daily as "Honey Macchiato." Just a little honey, shot of espresso and steamed half&half. Simple. Sweet. Elegant. But nothing risky or edgy, like the roasted corn thing.
The Finals performance presented its' own challenges. Faced with a panel featuring three judges from one coffee roaster/retailer, I worried that their tastes would be too similar. That the palate would be too skewed towards one style of espresso - much like presenting an acidic coffee to a panel of Japanese judges. With this in mind, I needed to find a way to allay that potential problem and bring them towards my coffees' way of thinking.
After consulting with friends who knew the coffee of the three judges (and the lone judge from another company), I decided that I would compare their coffees with the Hines. How they might be similar. How they might be different. What we tasted in the morning tasting. Created little bridges that they could easily cross.
This is not to say that the judges were prejudiced against any coffee other than their own. I had no way of knowing if that was true since I really didn't know the judges or their tastes. I had to presume that the extreme would be the case while hoping that it wasn't.
In the end, I took third place with a "safe" drink and not the drink I know I should have used. Had I used the roasted corn I would have remained true to my goals, the third place finish would be satisfying and I would have feedback on the corn drink. Since I allowed the thought of winning cloud my judgment and chose the "safe" drink, I have no feedback on the corn drink and have a trophy that can sit around collecting dust. The only consolation I have is that I was awarded a "6" by a longtime USBC judge - which is an accomplishment in and of itself, especially from a seasoned and tough judge.
But I blew it. I let the thought of winning get in the way of what I wanted to do. I thought I should get serious about winning, instead of being serious about exploring. Failure.
Wednesday, March 21, 2007
In the end, I never made it to the Chop House. I ended up gorging on pedestrian fare like the Chicago Hot Dog and Portillo's Italian Beef - both of which were quite tasty and a wonderful, greasy and cheap counterpoint to the rest of the weekend.
I've compiled the experiences a bit differently than Blogger likes to display posts. I've combined all four articles (including this one) in a time cascade meaning that you read the articles down the page in column format like you would a newspaper article, rather than the up reading, chronological format that is typical of Blogger.
So, in a nutshell, after finishing this, read the Trotter's article, then Alinea and then Compiled at the bottom of the page.
In short, the restaurants were amazing, educational and inspiring. I hope that all of you enjoy the images and the thoughts.
The weather in Chicago was crappy that weekend. O'Hare had been shut down and our friends from the West Coast just didn't make it. Had I not left Baltimore on the 2pm flight, I would not have made it to Chicago and my visions of dining grandieur would have been flushed.
But that was not the case and I found myself, along with Barista Matt, on our way through the snow to the remodeled rowhomes on West Armitage. Two short than our reservation for four, we hung out a bit by the bar while they arranged our table then we were on our way.
The decor is refined and tasteful. Subdued incandescent lighting produces a warm light that puts you at ease - even though the dress code requires a coat. But I guess it would be weird if the staff was dressed nicer than the guests. Luckily I brought a comfortable jacket.
Won't waste time chatting about inane subject matter, it's time to get to business. The Grand Menu of 8 courses was $175. The wine pairing was an additional $85. Both Barista Matt and myself went with the Grand Menu and Tasting.
Artic Char with Savoy Cabbage & Mustard
Henriot "Blanc Souverain - Pur Chardonnay" Brut NV
Four Story Hills Farm Avian with Poached Egg, Truffle Chutney & Pumpernickel Crisp
- Santiago Ruiz "O Rosal" Rias Baixas 2005
Okay, I'll say it now. The poached egg blew me away. Poached for ten hours at 40C. The texture was immaculate. It was sublime. It is almost impossible to describe the mouthfeel and the exquisite texture and how I dream of an egg such as this.
Japanese Tai with Grapefruit, Clams, Shima Mikan & Pink Peppercorn
Monthelie "Premier Cru - Chateau Gaillard" Domaine Annick Parent 2002
My first real experience with foam and it was, well, weird. Don't think I like the foam thing. Nothing of substance - just fleeting.
Roasted Monkfish Tail with Parsnip & Iranian Pistachio Emulsion
The roasted tail was wild. Who would have thought of this? Kinda like strange crisps. Crunchy. Interesting. And kinda tasty. Wonder how it would go with salt and a Coke.
Axis Venison Loin with Quinoa, Black Cardamom Mole & Ash Baked Eggplant
Felton Road Pinot Noir, Central Otago 2004
The venison was good, but the Pinot Noir was BAM! Bangin'! A beautiful pairing of bold flavors. Amazing.
Grilled Blood Orange Sorbet with Jicama & Cilantro
Seven Hills "Pentad" Walla Walla 2003
Again, the wine pairing was BA-BAMM! Fuckin' rockin'.
Organic d'Hiver Pears with Carmelized Endive & Burnt Hickory Syrup Ice Cream
J.J. Christoffel Erben "Urzinger Wurtzgarten" Riesling Eiswein, Mosel 2002
Eiswein - BAM! Again. Who is this sommelier and why won't he let up? I need more. Easily the most challenging dish of the night. See that white sauce second from the left? It was some sort of cheese sauce that was just challenging. Here's this sweet dessert kind of dish with this savory, salty kind of cheese that totally clashes with the sweetness and you're trying to find its' meaning. Challenging. Amazing.
Later, 2003 Barista Champion Heather Perry would ask me over breakfast - if I had experienced this dish anywhere else, would I have hated it outright or did I like it (or try to like it) merely because I was dining at Charlie Trotters?
Great question and I still don't know the answer.
Chocolate, Tea, Caramel
Warre's Late Bottled Vintage Port 1995" Brut NV
Oh, LBV 1995 - now you're killing me. Who keeps this stuff? If it was mine, it would have been long gone. Barista Matt couldn't get enough and asked for another round of chocolates. Didn't know you could do that! But I was pleased.
Easily one of the best meals I've ever had. The flavors were rich. The textures were varied and the wine pairings were the best I've ever experienced. A true compliment to the food. I've never experienced that before. Amazing.
The service was top-notch and everything I had hoped for after reading the book. Barista Matt asked to tour the wine cellars, so into the recesses of Trotter's we went. Down, down,down, past the kitchen, past the locker room and into the cellar where I came face to face with a mid-20th Century Petrus. Amazing. If only I understood wines more...
Read the experiences on eGullet if you want to know more about the ambience. It's modern and refined and everyone is sharply dressed. The open kitchen with its' modular design is just gorgeous. It has quickly become the inspiration for the modular design of Nail Salon Espresso.
But I'm getting ahead of myself.
After the completely fabulous (and expensive) meal at Trotter's the night before, I was about to leave my hotel room with $300. Then I thought better of it. Perhaps I'll need another hundred, just in case. Tucked another hundred into my wallet and I was off with $480 in my pocket. That's $400 for the dinner and $80 for cab fares and incidentals. Plenty of cash for this Bling Bling Barista.
Forget the extaneous stuff. You can read about the layout, design and ambience on the Internet. Let's get right to the nitty-gritty. Everything you've heard about Alinea being one of America's cutting-edge restaurants is true. The food is wild. The food is good. The pairings are tasty and subtle. There was no blasting chorus of wines like at Trotter's. Everything just fit nicely together in a smooth and subtle symphony. My team of captain and sommelier were wonderful. Everyone in the dining room spied on each others' tables to see either what was coming or fondly reminiscing about that same dish.
Originally, I had planned on dining with Bronwen but when her flight from the West Coast was cancelled due to Chicago weather, I ended up dining solo. They graciously accommodated me at a luscious dark walnut table as I sat on the wall-length couch, arms propped with pillows. How nice.
You have a choice at Alinea. Some sort of short menu or The Tour. Of course, having travelled all this way, I was choosing The Tour. Then there's the wine pairings - $85 for the short pairing or the same amount as The Tour for The Tour Pairing.
The Tour is $195. The Tour Pairing was an additional $195. A quick head calculation and I was glad I brought that extra Franklin. The Grand Tour it would be.
And here it is, The Grand Tour as it was presented to me on Sunday, Februrary 25, 2007:
Note: if the course was paired with a wine, that wine is listed below.
Croquette - Smoked steelhead roe, several garnishes
Chartogne-Taillet "Cuvee Ste-Anne" Brut with Pineau des Charentes
Octopus - shiso, papaya, toasted soy
Chanterelle - Carrot, curry, ham
Quinta do Alqueve Fernao Pires, Ribatejo, Portugal 2005
Apple - horseradish, celery
An encapsulation of the celery juice inside a horseradish sphere sitting in apple juice. Trippy.
Monkfish - banana, onion, lime
Vincent Danver Chassagne-Montrachet ler Cru "La Romanee" 2004
This one was three preparations of monkfish - poached, fried and mousse.
Duck - mango, yogurt, pillow of juniper air
F.X. Pichler Gruner Veitliner Smaragd "Loibner Berg", Wachau 2004
Just wild. Get close and smell the juniper as it emanates out of the pillow.
Black Truffle - explosion, romaine, parmesan
Far out. The truffle juice explodes out of the ravioli onto your tongue. One of the most gushed about courses on eGullet.
Short Rib - Guiness, peanut, fried broccoli
Paolo Bea Montefalco Rosso Riserva "Pipparello", Umbria 2001
Yuzu - frozen and chewy
Chestnut - Blis maple syrup
Persimmon - brioche, mace, grapefruit
Weinbach Gewurtztraminer "Altenbourg" Vendanges Tardives, Alsace 2003
Licorice Cake - muscovado sugar, orange, anise hyssop
Definitely the wildest preparation.
King Crab - vinegar, aromatics, rice
A.R. Lenobie "Rose Millesime" Brut, Damery 2000
Skate - caper, lemon and brown butter powders
Francois Villard "Terrasses du Palat" Condrieu, N. Rhone 2004
That swirl that looks like the galaxy were the powders. Mind-blowing.
Pineapple - bacon powder, black pepper
Lamb - date, mastic, rosemary aroma
Jean Royer Chateauneuf-du-Pape "Hommage a mon Pere" S. Rhone 2001
Hot Potato - cold potato, black truffle, butter
Venison - encased in savory granola
Azelia Barolo "San Rocco", Castigilone Falletto 1998
Foie Gras - spicy cinnamon, apple pate de fruit
Orange - olive oil, green olive, almond
Disnoko Tokaji Aszu "6 Puttonyos", Hungary 1997
Coconut - saffron, kiwi, cornmeal
Cavalchina "Le Pergole del Sole" Muller-Thurgau Passito, Veneto, Italy 2003
Notice the translucent brown jelly on the right corner. It was a roasted corn gelee and it rocked the house.
Chocolate - passionfruit, kaffir lime leaf, soy
Abbazia di Novacella Moscato Rosa "Praepositus", Alto Adige 2004
- I apologize about this course. I guess I got so carried away (not to mention blitzed on the flowing wine) that I must have forgotten to snap a photo.
PCaramel - meyer lemon, cinnamon perfume
That's it. That was the complete 23 course Tour at Alinea. Grant wasn't in that evening but the food was wild. The utensils were wonderful and that roasted corn gelee rocked the house. Twice. Somewhere along the way, I enjoyed some sort of bottled water and a sort of French pressed coffee from Intelligentsia. I say 'sort of' because even at this grand restaurant they still don't quite "get" the nuances and finesse of great coffee.
The dining room was full when I arrived so I mainly kept to myself and tried to snap the pics as unobtrusively as possible. The friendly ladies dining next to me asked if I was a food critic. Perhaps I should have said yes. Then again, I later noticed the couple across the room snapping images of their meal as well. Just label me "tourist."
I ended up being the final diner in my dining room which allowed me to actually chat with Olivia, the captain and Scott, the sommelier and ask them their thoughts on service and their experience working in one of America's top restaurants. Passion and commitment to service seemed to be the predominant thought. Throughout the evening the service was friendly but reserved and respectful. I think I would prefer service slightly (and I do mean slightly) more colloquial, but that's a personal preference on the way I would like to be treated and not a criticism on their approach.
In the end, I was glad that I brought the extra hundred, but distressed that I didn't bring another hundred. Here's the breakdown of my bill:
Menu - $195
Wine - $195
Bever - $8
Sub - $398
10.25% tax - 40.80
Total - 438.80
Now remember, I only had $480 in my pocket, lose $30 for the round-trip cab ride to and from Alinea and that leaves me with $450 in cash. Quite a bit short to cover the tip. Ended up charging $100 to my credit card and covering the balance in cash and I spent a total of $540.00 on dinner for one.
This was easily the most reckless dinner I've ever spent money on. Five Hundred and Forty Dollars. I must be insane. There must be something wrong with me. Yes, it was a business trip. An exploration into understanding the level of service and approach to service at the top echelons of the hospitality industry. But it was expensive for a dinner. True, it was cheaper than the Culinary Boot Camp at the Culinary Institute of America. But it was an expensive dinner.
But was it worth the Five Hundred Dollars? That is the question.
It was absolutely one of the wildest meals of my life. I'll say that for now and leave the analysis to another post.
In a word: absolutely. At both restaurants the service, hospitality, presentation and food were top notch. The pinnacle of fine dining. Friendly, accommodating, respectful and enjoyable. Not to mention comfortable. And when your dinner takes at least three hours - you NEED to be comfortable.
It was an incredible weekend of the finest dining possible. I got to see first-hand the definition of 3-4 Star Service. It's what the United States Barista Championship gives so much lip service but understands so little about. This level of service is more than just the rigid "service from the left" theories of yore. It's about tailoring the service to fit the experience. It's about making continual adjustments to the process to accommodate the guests. It's about being on your game in a way we don't usually see when eating out.
And for a five hundred dollar meal, you'd best be experiencing something vastly different than Red Lobster.
It's too easy to use superlatives, like "the best" or "incredible" or whatever comes to mind. Whatever you choose, chances are that it would be true of either restaurant. The wine pairings at Trotter's were bold, definitive and struck a strong chord with my palate. Flavors I had never experienced together that made wine pairings actually enjoyable rather than trying to understand what all the fuss is about and why doesn't someone bring me an ice cold Coke.
Trotter's wines were so impressive that I tried to hunt down the Seven Hills Pentad and the Felton Road Pinot Noir to no avail in Baltimore. Add to that the incredibly succulent and amazing poached egg and it sears my memory to the point that I can't stop thinking about that poached egg and its' indescribable texture.
But the whole experience was strange too. As I reflect on the experience, I'm wowed by the overall presentation. I'm blown away by components of dishes, but no one dish (as a whole) stands out in my mind. It was experimental. It was an experience. But I'm not awestruck by any course in particular.
The Apple course at Alinea stood out when I was reviewing the images. An encapsulation of celery juice in a sodium alginate/horseradish ball, sitting in apple juice that, when consumed, the ball breaks - flooding the mouth with the mixing juices. Wild. Unexpected. And it made me think of how that treatment could be adapted to a signature drink for competition.
Actually, it also reminded me of 2006 USBC Champion and 2007 Great Lakes Barista Champion Matt Riddle's ginger signature drink - which I thought might benefit tremendously from such a presentation.
I remember the Yuzu strictly for its' cool factor. Was it really outstanding? Perhaps. But the whole "freezing stuff on the Anti-Griddle" is just cool beans.
The roasted corn gelee in Alinea's Coconut course just blew me away. The concentrated flavors of roasted corn - in a gelee. Amazing. I must make this at home. I must find a way to combine something like this with espresso. I must. I must.
On Monday morning, while we were having breakfast at a local joint, 2003 USBC Champion Heather Perry asked me the most poignant question of the experience. If I had tasted the cheese sauce at a restaurant other than Trotter's would I have hated it? In other words, did I "like" it and label it "the most challenging dish" and thought of it as "challenging my palate and preconceived notions" BECAUSE it came from Trotter's?
How much does ones' preconceived notions about a restaurant colour his/her experience?
For example, if I went to 7-11 one morning and got a cup of truly exquisitely prepared Red Mountain a la Counter Culture Coffee, would I recognize it? Or would I disregard it outright because "I knew" that 7-11 serves only crap coffee?
Likewise, at either Trotter's or Alinea, if I was served the most incredibly horrible dish known to man, would I acknowledge it or label it "challenging" because "there's no way" that either restaurant would serve anything less than incredible?
Maybe I did hate the cheese sauce. It was savory, tangy, salty and an extreme counterpoint to the sweetness inheirent in the rest of the dish. But perhaps I was more open-minded because I was expecting stellar courses.
In the end, I don't know for sure and it will take more reflection to really decide which side I stand.
In closing, the meals were phenomenal, but there's something missing for me. Desire. Desire is what's missing. I reflect back on my Trotter and Alinea experience and find myself satiated that I tried them. I'm not plotting a return trip to Chicago. I'm not devising ways to raise a thousand bucks so I can eat there again. I'm not dreaming of the food.
I don't know what it is. Maybe I'm just a simpleton, but when I think about my favorite restaurants, like Les Halles in Washington DC, Imanas Tei or Helena's in Honolulu, KC Kitchen or Firefly on Paradise in Las Vegas, I desire to be there again. I think of their food and I'm lusting for it. I DREAM of eating at these places again. I plot and maneuver to eat there. No nefarious deed is too, well nefarious, to dine there again.
Not so with the greatest in American restaurants.
But I'll never forget that weekend.
Friday, March 16, 2007
Another moment of psychosis and the credit card is maxed out.
Not too long ago, I ventured to Alinea Restaurant in Chicago where I experienced this frozen sort of Ponzu. It was such an interesting experience that I must find a way to recreate a similar experience at Spro Coffee and the coming Nail Salon Espresso.
So, in a moment or two of wild, credit card blazing fantasy, I've gone ahead and ordered the Anti-Griddle from Polyscience where I will join the ranks of Jean-Georges Vongerichten, Charlie Trotter, Guy Rubino, Thomas Keller and Grant Achatz - if not in skill then at least in equipment glory.
What is this "anti-griddle," you ask? Well, it's some sort of fangled contraption that has a griddle plate that hovers at -40 degrees celcius that starts to freeze anything you place on its' surface, hence the name "anti-griddle." It will be mine and I have no idea what I'm going to do with it once I've tried sticking my tongue on the surface (just to see what happens).
Jim at Polyscience told me that there's a four to six week waiting period for the AntiGriddle. With any luck, it will be here in time for my entry in the United States Barista Championship in Long Beach and I'll be able to pay for it with my winnings as champion....hehehe....
The AntiGriddle - what's in your wallet?
Thursday, March 08, 2007
As I write this, I am nearing the bottom fourth of this mornings' greatest pleasure: an ice cold 500ml bottle of Coca-Cola.
Yes, it's the High Fructose Corn Syrup version of Coke so it's not the Ultimate Pleasure but an indulgence nonetheless that was sparked by my unique (but not unusual) storage method. The Coke was part of Spro Coffee's stock that I keep in the garage. It snowed yesterday and it was bitterly cold this morning as I loaded the crates of Coke into the back of the Sonoma for the fifteen minute commute to Towson.
When it came time to unload the bottles, there they were, in their fizzy, frozen state. That weird, brackish-looking color of frozen coke. It's a classic look and a tempting fate. I couldn't resist.
There's nothing like the feeling of the frozen Coke sizzling down your throat and into your gullet. It's cold. It's crisp. It's refreshing (until that syrupy hell makes you thirsty again ten minutes later). It's what Coke was meant to be.
So go ahead, gentle reader, freeze your Cokes. Let the ice crystals form and indulge yourself with hedonistic abandon.
Wednesday, March 07, 2007
And while I enjoy the MySpace experience overall, I'm growing increasingly irritated with its' denizens and their "tastes."
Years ago, when I was first learning design theory, one of the first adages was that merely because you could use all the fonts on your computer, you shouldn't. This is a lesson missed by most of the people on MySpace. Take a look at the MySpace pages of your friends (or people you're interested in hooking up with) and you'll see some of the most horrific examples of graphic/web design known to mankind. A mish-mash of colors, fonts, font sizes, cutesy pictures, animations, illustrations and anything and everything in poor taste that represents the individual.
Pile on top of that the continuing cacophony of music/sound tracks that so many insist on including in their MySpace page and it becomes downright maddening.
So please people, stop with the cute pictures. Stop with the multitude of colors. Stop with the music. Stop with all the nonsense because it's taking too damn long for your pages to load into my browser.
Saturday, March 03, 2007
I've never been a big collector of comic books. Many of my friends were into the SuperFriends kinds of books featuring heroes like Batman, Superman, Spiderman - the DC/Marvel world of comics. I've usually been into the manga/anime world of Japanese comics, following the adventures of the SDF-1, The Dirty Pair of Kei and Yuki, Mai The Psychic Girl, or Urusei Yatsura's Lum. But since none of those series are continuing, I've turned to the sporadic offerings of Josh Wheden's Firefly universe and the once-again popular Battlestar Galactica.
The world of the comic book store is an interesting place filled with all sorts of role-playing games (RPG), busts of comic book heroes and villains, erotic manga (which I secretly wish to peel back the plastic cover and see what's inside) and the usual selection of DC/Marvel style comic books - which means there's little for me to do but browse and consider purchasing the Firefly RPG book.
On weekends, the store fills with makeshift tables and kids of all ages waging war with miniature figurines that they've either sculpted or painted, or both. I don't really understand what's going on but it looks interesting even though I'm an outsider to their world.
Hang out at the comic book store long enough and you'll see all sorts of people. From the expected goofy guys obsessed with comics, otaku and comic book women, to the suit-wearing businessman - I fall somewhere in-between. By now, I'm a 30-something, post 80s alternative scene, self-employed self-imaginary rockstar. I envision myself as cool and hip as the next 30-something dude - a guy who's traveled the world, worked with some of the most famous celebrities, been a regular at the cool clubs and dated some hot chicks.
Yet, no matter how cool I may envision myself, I still feel like a geek everytime I step into the comic book store.
The 30-something Geek.
I own my own company fer chrissakes, yet I can't help but feeling as geeky as the manga-obsessed virgin to my left. For all that I've conquered in the world, I can see Kathy D. just standing there, shaking her head and telling me how much of a geek I am: ˆDude, you are SUCH a geek!ˆ
Which leads me to believe that the comic book store is great equalizer. No matter who you think you are, no matter what you have done in the world, the mere fact that you are perusing the wares in the comic book store and enjoying it means that you are a Geek. An obsessed with comics and afraid of girls kind of geek who just wants to sit on the couch all day in your Underoos playing Nintendo...