Cleaving from a Distance

Last night I dined on the Bistecca, a 50 oz porterhouse, it was like the feeling you get from hitting all 5 clays from each of all 5 firing positions – blindfolded.  The space was even as warm an inviting as hunting lodge.  I was at chi Spacca with my buddy El Carnicero.  We call him the butcher because he buys natural cows in bulk.  He get them from vineyards in Northern California once they have run their course supplying fertilizer for the grapes.  They are completely farm raised as they graze on grass all day, and taste almost as good as the Bistecca.

But before the 50 ouncer we started with the elusive white pie.  There really is no Focaccia di Reccos that can compare.  And you can only get it at chi Spacca, they don’t even serve it in their two other sister restaurants next door.  Legend has it that it took the priorietor if this establishment four years to prefect.  It’s super gooey, and even the crust is melty.  It’s a pizza that even a seasoned Venezuelan hunter would eat.  It had been a while since I had seen El Carnicero. I think the last time was over bison burgers at the Oak Tree Gun Club, trap shooting with the kids.

We picked up right where we left off talking about hunting, but this time it was different.  The day after we went to the range, an 8 year old girl in the mid-west at another range, accidentally shot and killed her Uzi teacher.  Beyond the conversation about what kind of guns anyone needs to hunt was a further thought about whether one can even hunt in the US anymore.  The great irony of it all is of course that those who sought to preserve it may now have destroyed it.


72 horas en Yucatan

Barbacoa empezo en el caribe mexicano con los indios quien cocinaron lentamente el chivo sobre fuego de llena o bien por fuego en un agujero cobrado con hojas de maguey.

Gracias a Dios y el poder de buena comido se imigro a Mexico donde yo me encontro en El Restaurante del Belmond Maroma Hotel que no tiene nada que ver con sus raises indios pero sale igual de Rico.  AY mamita es este que quema.

Con una adventura de solo 72 horas en el Yucatan, visite tres lugares en la biblia del viajero (1000 lugares de conocer antes que muere) con saldo corriente de 4000. Cumpleanos importante con 600 mas que me llama antes de despedirles. La meta puede ser impossible lograr con 47 anos en este mundo. Este viejo gringo seguira peleando como merecia victoria. Lo esencial es el viaje no solo El destino en este caso: Maroma – Hacienda Katanchel – Chichen Itza.   El plan es vivir bien a pesar de que no sabemos para tanta tiempo. Quizas como los Maya. De todos modos estare sonriendo en las sombras.  Suerte con sus metas dejando su marca propia.

Home Sweet Home


We probably should have taken the picture before we poured the sauce and stuck in the kinfe, but we were hungry.  And you might also be asking why no pictures of BBQ beef or baby back ribs.  Well, when we saw these links go by we had to have them.  Then we had the beef and ribs.  The Bear Pit is absolutely a little bit of Missouri in Mission Hills, CA.

Coffee Meet Meat

The only coffee better than Colombian is Guatemalan.  And the only steak better than pepper is coffee steak.  At the El Refectorio Del Prior restaurant in the hotel Casa Santo Domingo you can get it all; Guatemalan pepper coffee steak.

The hotel also happens to be in Antigua which has a perfectly preserved ex-colonial Spanish city.  There are may travelers who believe that Anitgua is now too touristy.  And that a visit there does not give one an authentic Guatemalan experience.  They may be right.  But that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t see it.

It okay to be this guy every once in a while.  Just don’t always be him.  When traveling leave home and at home and see what else the world has to offer.  You’ll be better off for it.  But we didn’t have to tell you that, did we?







Kronenhalle Strong



In 1924 the Zumsteg’s took over the restaurant and it went directly off the chain.  Coming from meager beginnings herself Hulda knew how to get it done.  To spice up the decor she exchanged food for paintings from starving artists.  It didn’t hurt that they just happened to be Picasso, Chagall, Matisse, Miro, Klee and Braque.


Nowadays you have to pay, but the veal with mushroom sauce is definitely worth it.

I can’t remember if something like Guernica was on the wall or not, but that would have summed up it.  Ringing in my ears was Sartre’s analogy to Pablo’s anti-war painting.  If I want it to stop then I have to do something about it.