What's so incredible? Why is she so awesome? How does she do it?

Apple picking from Leigh Cooper on Vimeo.

Apple picking. The best parts of fall. Having trouble playing the video? Try the YouTube version if you can’t get the high quality Vimeo one above to work.

It seems strange that I’d find fault with Los Angeles and yet fall in love with Irvine. Orange County is generally considered yuppie and culturally devoid by die-hard angelinos. I couldn’t disagree more.

Irvine is certainly a different beast than LA, in some ways more like Southern California than its neighbour. At times quiet and introspective with sprawling beaches of Newport, at times identity confused by Asian influence and fusion cuisine, Irvine kept me curious. Before I hopped the pond yet again to East Asia, I spent some time helping a friend close house in a beautiful neighbourhood. As I rooted around my bag for long-unused sunglasses and soaked up the sunshine, I wondered why he was leaving the place at all. Surprisingly, he hated it.

After we had taped the last box closed around 2am, we headed to BCD Tofu House for some late night soondubu jjigae. The street corner was hopping with young UCIrvine students and a few old men sipping beer. It seemed fitting to me that in this same shopping centre should I spy 85ºC Bakery and Cafe, a gem from Taiwan I’d heard about but never been close enough to sample. Well, my last night stateside would be incomplete without a lovely pastry (and trust me here, once you get used to it, the Asians do European pastries better than anyone else) so I decided to wait it out. When the sun broke, we were ready to roll, taro roll and pineapple melon bread in hand. You can see for yourself in the video above.

When I die, I hope I can find Chanpon in heaven because that noodle soup was plate-lickin’ good. Full review over at my foodblog, Up for Dessert.

Tokyo has an older part and a newer part. Asakusa is what you’d expect Tokyo to look like, with its crowded streets and dingy establishments, but truthfully it’s a rarity in the city that boasts the new and shiny everywhere you look. Asakusa has some of my favorite little hidey-holes too, including that tiny little Sento I spent every night at for a week, including my favourite okonomiyaki seller, including the best spot to get ceramics, and until recently, I hadn’t ever had noodles there. Seemed fitting to get traditional noodles in traditional Tokyo (well, if there is such a thing), just a stone’s throw from Senso-ji, the largest and most famous Buddhist temple in the city.

Read the full review over at my foodblog, Up for Dessert.

I live across the street from a fabulous Thai restaurant in Arlington, and I drag most of my mates to it on a regular basis. What I’m trying to say here is that I’m a bit of a Thai snob. I don’t do mediocre Thai. So when I was invited out to T.H.A.I. in Shirlington, I got a little nervous. Don’t get me wrong, I adore Thai food, but I also deplore bad Thai food. I decided to roll the dice of culinary fate and let the chips fall where they may.

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Turns out, I worried over nothing. T.H.A.I. in Shirlington was good Thai. Their lunch specials made my eyes pop out; at least a dozen options of noodle bowls and curry sets priced in the single digits and served with heaping portions of meat or tofu. I got the “Poor Man’s Noodles,” which were a stripped down version of a Pad Thai, consisting of peanuts, bean sprouts, scallions, egg, and fried tofu. The tofu was awesome: crispy on the outside but still spongey and flavourful on the inside. I was pleasantly surprised.

I made some pasta. It isn’t anything special, just your garden-variety pasta sauce. Just tomatoes, onions, garlic, white wine, seasonings. Just a little goats cheese and basil on top. Nothing crazy. And yet, it’s unlike anything I could find in a restaurant. The tomatoes are from my garden (some yellow, some red, some heirloom, some tiger-striped) and they’re just itching to burst in your mouth. The wine is an unbelievable Chardonnay from California (and I hate Chardonnay) I found in Charlottesville for under ten dollars.

I eat a lot of noodles. More than I let on. But most of the noodles I make are of the Italian variety simply because that’s what I know how to cook. It’s so commonplace to me that I never talk about the sauces I make at home, even though I’ve made some wild stuff. You can do anything with a pasta sauce, and I’ll make a tomato and butter sauce one week, then a mushroom sauce the next, and a spring veggie sauce the week after. Sometimes it’ll be just beans, sometimes just pesto, sometimes a hodgepodge of everything in my icebox, and while I think of zucchini lemon pasta as a totally normal fixture of anyone’s dinner rotation, I forget to tell people that’s what I ate.

So here it is, the pasta sauce I made. It seems run of the mill, but at the same time, it’s not, because every sauce I make is a little bit special.

I recognize that I might have a slight addiction to pho. Maybe not addiction, precisely, because while I can go long stretches of time without pho and think nothing of it, I have a pathological inability to turn down an invitation to consume the thing. When people tell me they haven’t had pho, I feel an uncompromising need to introduce them to the dish. Luckily for me, pho is picking up popularity here in the states.

Of course not all of us can make it out to Pho 75 when the craving strikes, so I’ve been sampling some of the faceless pho joints in unsuspecting strip malls over the past few weeks. Pho is a simple dish at its heart — no sides or service required, just a hot bowl and a hungry person — so to stake the merit of these establishments on the service they provide would be to misunderstand pho entirely. The dish gets guillotined by my scorecard and the dish alone.

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Pho Vinh Loi in Falls Church isn’t first on the list of pho places I’d recommend, but it’s accessible enough and the food makes for a nice lunchtime out. The basics are all there, but where the restaurant really shines is the number of pho varieties on the menu (not to mention its all Vietnamese patronage). There’s some unusual pho options here that veer away from the standard beef.

It’s pho, though. So you can expect an unreasonable amount of food for an unrealistically low price served impossibly hot and unimaginably quickly. I think that’s the best part right there, but there are many more reasons to like pho. It’s fresh, it won’t leave you feeling grease-laden, it’s cheap, it’s delicious…what do you think is the best part of pho? What makes it so addictive and appealing?

Pho is an unsung breakfast food. That’s right, I said breakfast food. While a hot bowl of noodles says cheap lunch to the average westerner, it says good morning to millions of Asian from all over the Pacific.

Have you had pho before? It’s fresh, light, and mild in flavor. It’s chock full of fresh veggies and comes with a plate covered in bean sprouts, jalapeños, cilantro, and purple basil. It’s filling without being greasy, and it’s easy to make. Unfortunately though, most Pho places aren’t exactly open for breakfast. So I had to settle for brunch on a sunny Saturday when I took the long walk down Mt. Vernon to Pho King.

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My love of pho was not disappointed. In a complex known for great food — Bombay Curry, Del Merei Grill, and Pizzaiolo neighbour Pho King — Pho King is right at home. A big bowl of Pho Chay will run you about $8, steep for pho but of course pretty reasonable by Arlington standards. It’s fresh and tasty though, and comes out piping hot. I personally appreciate how they don’t skimp on the limes, my favourite part of pho for the splash of brightness it adds.

The rest of the menu is rather lackluster, but the pungent broth and the chewiness of the tiny noodles more than make up for the place’s other shortcomings: minimal decor, ultra-utilitarian service, and a distinct lack of English proficiency. Still, I don’t expect a food like pho to come with pomp and circumstance; pho has always been a food of the masses. So whether you’re a pho connoisseur or looking to try a beloved variety of noodle, Pho King is a decent place to start.

There are plenty of gear reviews out there for backpackers, but not a lot out there for jetsetters. We aren’t endless nomads, but we pack like them. We have hubs from which we escape out to far flung destinations, and we’re ready for anything, but we don’t need to bring the kitchen sink. Out of all the videos I’ve looked at over the years, I’ve yet to come across a good packing one. So I made one myself. It’s a bit long, but you get the idea. We’ll start with the clothing.

Clothing:

1 pair thongs (Rainbows)

1 pair mary janes (Me Too)

1 pair canvas shoes (Sanuk)

2 pair socks (Smartwool)

2 t-shirts (Uniqulo QuickDry)

1 tank top (Holister)

1 oxford (Northface)

1 raincoat (Mountain Hardware)

1 dress (polyester)

1 pair jeans

1 pair shorts

1 pair athletic pants

1 sun hat

1 weeks worth of undergarments

Ladies, please, I beg you, stop with all the extra nonsense. I know you want to look good, we all want to look good, but you have to make some concessions. Why? Because there won’t always be a porter to carry around your bag. Expect stairs in subway stations and expect small luggage racks on the train. Prepare for rain and prepare for long hauls to the hotel. You should always be able to carry your own baggage, and if you plan accordingly, it should be no problem when you have to carry it with you all day. Start counting every item in terms of ounces and you might find you “need” a lot less.

I am bringing a lot of electronics, and that’s okay. I’m planning on doing some work on the road, and for me, work requires a large arsenal of materials. It’s heavy, but that’s a price I’m willing to pay to have my entire studio essentially mobile. I do have a few rules though that keep me from bringing all my gear. If my trip is over ten days in length, I’m allowed to bring my laptop and my dSLR. If it’s under ten days, I just make do with my Stylus Tough and my iPhone. That way I never worry about documenting everything as I go, I just do it when I return. Over ten days, and I need to keep in contact with the rest of the world. It’s a pretty good system.

Electronics (full list including those not in video):

laptop and powerbrick (15″ MacBook Pro)

portable hard drive (500GB 7200rpm LaCie Rugged)

wireless router and Cat5 cable (airport express)

waterproof rangefinder (Olympus Stylus Tough 6000)

dSLR and extra battery (Canon 30d)

extra lens (10-22 extra wide)

tripod (Joby Gorillapod)

headphones (Bose QuietComfort 2 and iPhone earbuds)

mp3 player (iPod 160GB Classic)

journal (Moleskine lined)

wireless mouse

reading material

travel documents

toiletries

To me, this packing list seems like a lot, and to be honest, it’s a lot more than I usually bring anywhere. To most people though, this seems sparse for a month long trip. So how does one manage to live for an indefinite period of time on so little? By buying it there. It’s a three step approach. 1) Don’t bring if you can easily buy. If, instead of preparing for every occasion by bringing something for each occasion, you were to bring only what you couldn’t easily buy there, you could significantly lighten your load. Think of it as paying 400¥ for the convenience of not having to lug around your own. For example, I’m going to buy an umbrella and shampoo when I’m in Japan rather than worry about checking them in my luggage. 2) Do without. Don’t bring an evening dress just in case you need to go to a fancy restaurant. Chances are you can get by without that cocktail dress. You’re going to Paris for ten days, do you really need that face cream or can you live without it for a week? Don’t bring when you can buy, and don’t buy when you can borrow, and don’t borrow if you can do without. For example, I rarely bring guidebooks, since most hotels or guest houses have maps and offer recommendations. You can probably rent a hair dryer at the front desk. Rest assured that if you really need it, you can find it. 3) Bring multi-purpose goods. Don’t bring anything that only does one thing. Bring items that you can mix and match to satisfy many needs rather than many things that each suit one. For example, I bring shoes that I can dress up or dress down. I bring cameras that can also take video, and mobiles that can check email in a pinch. My body wash even doubles as laundry detergent. Most importantly though, I make sure I bring clothes that are high-performance, so they may fit in well as city clothes, but they hold up well when I take them to the hiking trails, and I wait until something gets worn through to replace it. That way I cut down on my load but am prepared for everything.

In addition to the usual suspects listed in the video above and the text below, there are a few other odds and ends that I consider travel musts. They’re pretty unassuming, but I’ll be a monkey’s uncle if I don’t always end up using them.

Dr. Bronner’s 18-in-one Castile Soap
Dr. Bronner might have been crazy, but his all purpose castile soap is a godsend for us travellers. With just a small three-ounce bottle of the stuff I can go for two months without any other toiletry. It’s olive oil based, so it won’t dry out your skin, and it’s mild and safe enough to use on anything and everything, and it’s non-allergenic, organic, free of additives, and comes in a varietal of flavors. Essentially castile soap is an ultra concentrated soap you can use to clean floors and counters, faces and hair, clothes and dishes, bodies and teeth, and pretty much anything else that needs cleaning. If you can’t find Dr. Bronner’s anywhere, go for the biodegradable CampSuds available at any sports/outdoor store or camping catalogue, and you can stop searching for shampoo, body wash, laundry detergent, dish soap, disinfecting wipes, and other liquids in general.

Vaseline
Few people truly understand the wonder of this petroleum product. For under a dollar, a tiny tub of vaseline will last you the better part of a year and it functions great as a lubricant for squeaky doors and chairs, a super strong balm for chapped lips and skin, a protective barrier for cuts, scrapes, and burns, as a means of keeping dirt and dust out of the eyes, as a water repellant for goods that need to stay dry like matches or swiss army knives, or even as a fire starter in a pinch. This stuff is invaluable, especially for cold-weather travel.

Microfiber Pack Towel
The microfiber pack towel is about the size of a hand towel but absorbs enough water to dry off your car. This thing is small, super lightweight, ultra absorbent, and will air dry in the space of two hours. As Douglas Adams taught me, I always know where my towel is and I never leave home without it. He was right too, because there are an infinite number of uses for a capable towel, from beaches in Australia to sento in Japan, from avoiding towel rental fees in Italy to cleaning up spills in Mexico, and everything in between.

Liquid Bandage
I do allow myself one other liquid/gel, and that is liquid bandage. There are some things my trusty mini roll of gaff tape (a cloth tape as strong as duct tape, but leaves no residue and reflects no light, another must-have for longer term travel) can’t mend, and when gaff doesn’t do the trick, liquid bandage inevitably does. Think of them as your one-two punch combo of repair. Liquid bandage can mend the fiddly bits otherwise impossible to suture: things like knuckles, zippers, behind the knee, thread snags, calluses, hair cracks, and the like. Plus liquid bandage disinfects before it hardens, and is fully waterproof for every body cut and gear gutting the road can dole out.

Airport/Airmac Express + Retractable Cat5 Cable
This one is an invaluable tool for the flashpackers. I don’t always use it, but there are many hotels I stay at where a hardwire ethernet connection is free, but the cable rental costs money. Many places simply don’t have wireless, and if you’re travelling with others, fighting over who gets to use the internet gets old. Enter the Airport Express, a square piece of plastic that, when wired to the internet and plugged into the nearest outlet can turn any land line into a wireless network. It even remembers settings from plug in to plug in so your internet-ready devices will be connected the moment you plug it in. Pair it with my retractable ethernet cable, complete with adaptors that turn one cat5 outlet into two, or can turn a male-male cable into a male-female or female-female cable, and you are a serious travel hacker.

Surge Protector
Most of us have more than one gadget these days, and there are never enough outlets available to charge everyone’s gear. I always travel with a surge protector for a few reasons. Firstly, I never know where my next working outlet will be, so I fill up everything I can with juice when I find one. Secondly, some countries have highly unreliable internet and a twelve dollar investment is well worth protecting the things I use to support myself. Lastly, whether I’m waiting in an airport or attending a convention, staying at a hostel or a hotel, there are many times when other people brick block your outlets. Having a surge protector helps you make an awful lot of friends in these very situations. I even rented out my extra outlets once for magazines on a particularly long layover in Fiji.

(And for the Ladies) The Diva Cup
Google this, google it now. This is a product made for travellers, hippies, and yuppie business women alike. You, like me, may have heard horror stories but I am here to tell you firsthand that any horrors you’ve heard are false, and any hesitation you may have will pale in comparison to the benefits of using this one little device. There are so many reasons to switch, I could write an entire post about it, but in an effort to not turn off all of my readers, I’ll stop here. If you have any questions, I’d be happy to answer them directly via email. Otherwise, the internet offers many more success stories to convince you dropping the $40 is well worth it. And boy is it.

A cursory glance at the menu will reveal one an only one option. Do not be distracted by the myriad toppings on the table in front of you, or the cheery staff trying to convince you cold noodles are the best choice. Do not get caught up in deciding how you’d like your noodles cooked, since Hakatatenjin will cook them to order. Do not spend forever debating whether you want the thin, somen-like noodles, or the slightly thicker spaghetti-esque noodles. Do not be afraid to pay the extra 50¥ it costs to dip that ladle into the vat of pickled eggs and call one your own.

Or rather, do. Do all of this. Do, because you are at Hakatatenjin Ramen in Shinjukugyoenmae and any carb coma you might induce can be averted by a long stroll in the massive park nearby. You are safe, so go ahead and put on those extra pickled ginger shreds, and go ahead and finish off those menma. You’re in good hands.

Hakatatenjin Ramen is serious black pork ramen for seriously hungry patrons. In a country where hundreds of noodle shops line nearly every street, it can be difficult to pick one out of the crowd. Hakatatenjin’s boisterous staff and dirty yellow awning are tell-tale signs that old-school quality is not far behind, something so often amiss when it comes to the more modern, vending machine ramen spots. Even harder to find is service like this, with a staff that will try to make you giggle no matter which language you speak, and a policy that will dish up more noodles when you’ve finished your first batch for the same price.

大きな地図で見る

Ah and the noodles are why you’re here, aren’t they? The thinner, chewier cousin of the dime a dozen ramen chains in Shinjuku come in a tangled mess, compacted into the bottom of a chipped, cereal bowl. But the soup packs a flavour stronger than any cocoa puff or lucky charm, and when all is said and done you may find yourself never wanting to leave. If only that thick soup with beads of fat swirling round the surface could stretch on forever you could call Hakatatenjin home, because for all intents and purposes, when you’re here, you are home.

Hakatatenjin Ramen（博多天神 ラーメン）
Nearest metro stop: Shinjukugyoenmae