Fifth Fall

Did you know that during the months of September to November, the leaves burst on fire and change color before they drop from the the trees so you can stomp on them with a satisfying crunch?

If you were born and raised in California, then the answer is no. It's simply a product of Hollywood (where this phenomenon definitely does not happen), and only happens over there, on the other side of the country, or Canada. We simply grew up in greens or browns. And then I moved away...

View of the Siene, Rive Droite and the back of the Louvre
Paris, Fall 2010

Gardens of Waddesdon Manor
Buckinghamshire, England, Fall 2010

La Defense,
Paris, Fall 2011

Sloe Berry Picking Adventure with favorite Frenchies
Park near Harrow, London, England, Fall 2011

View of the Golden Triangle/Downtown Pittsburgh, from Grandview Station
Pittsburgh, Fall 2012

The thunderstorm the previous weekend had stripped the trees already...
Loyalhanna Creek, off US 30 West
Ligonier, Fall 2013

Montreal, Quebec, Canada, Fall 2014

Potts Mountain, Jefferson National Forrest, Virginia, Fall 2015

And so, five years later...

I hadn't realized it had been so long since I've been away from "home." A woman I met had asked if I was from California, asked what the job situation was like back there, and I said, "Oh, I haven't lived there in like, five years," mentioning that I had moved out to Pittsburgh, and then here, earlier this year. 

"Oh, so you're an East Coaster now, then," she stated. 

I had no response. 

I still have no response. 

The Smell of Chocolate on Northern Winds

"Do you like it? Taking your home with you wherever you will go?"

"Yeah, why not? Your way must be harder, each time having to make a new home from scratch."

"Well, maybe this time I'll get it right."

"What do you mean?"

"Maybe I'll stay."

"What?"

"Don't you ever think about belonging somewhere?"

"The price is too high. You end up caring what people expect of you. No."

"Is that so terrible? Having people expect something of you?"

- Chocolat, film, 2000

#ThursdayTravels: On Driving Around and Around and Around

Days late, most definitely dollars short, but here's my #ThursdayTravels...

I grew up in a car. Driving to school. Driving to Chinese school. Driving to the outlets. Driving to San Francisco, Sacramento, and everything in between. Nothing beats being lulled to sleep by a fast moving car after a long adventure, with streetlights streaming behind my eyelids, or keeping my eyes opening just long enough to watch the Enjoy Coco Cola billboard lights cycle through, fill up, and empty again, before getting bathed in the harsh yellow lights of the lower span of the Bay Bridge....

Nothing, except being in the driver seat, that is. I was prepared to fight tooth and nail to get my learner's permit the second I turned fifteen and a half (because fifteen is still young enough to count the years in terms of months). I was surprised when my parents gave in so early. Should have known it was too good to be true, because it would be more than another year until they let me actually take the test, and another two years before they would let me behind the wheel....

But once I got into that seat, I never really left. College was both far enough away to warrant a car, and close enough that frequent excursions home for fresh laundry and free groceries made me a regular road warrior. I never questioned how I knew where I was going, because I had been on those roads as long as I could remember.

I knew the multiple side streets to get back to my house, to go to Chinatown, to get on the Bay Bridge in case of traffic, and what times of the day to take Frontage Road (answer: pretty much always, because who doesn't want the salty air blowing in, windows down, fog rolling in, and the familiar sight of the Bay and Golden Gate Bridges across the Berkeley Marina?)

Had to pull off and park while driving down Frontage Road along the Berkeley Marina. Probably one of my last California sunsets for a while, so I stayed until the last rays.

Moving to a new city means new roads to avoid, new back roads to discover, and of course, the inevitability of getting lost. I remember once the ease in which I navigated back the random short merges and multiple bridges to our apartment in Pittsburgh, and my roommate turned to me in awe, and asked "How do you know where you are going?"

Google, baby. Google. But in a time before such crazy things like "smart" phones and when GPS was still a spy function in Enemy of the State, Map Quest reigned, and I printed step-by step directions. I also remember this crazy thing they mentioned in history class called an "atlas..."

It's absolutely hilarious to me the duality of personalities, who I am in America, on foot, and in a car, compared to who I am when I travel abroad to different countries, where I navigate via my notebook of scribbles of addresses and half-formed beginnings of adventures and a free or cheap tourist map.

This Thursday, in search of a Restaurant Week lunch locale, I drove almost an hour to Ashburn, VA, to Ford's Fish Stack. I read the menu, and had lobstah stuck on my mind...

Maine Lobster Roll. Ford's Fish Shack, Ashburn, Va. Restaurant Week Entree, Lobster rolls served 2 ways, Connecticut and Maine, with fries and slaw. Worth the drive? Only as part of the day, not as the reason.

After 5 months in DC, I'm still learning the roads and the laws of the land. Keep in mind, I have to learn 3 sets: District of Columbia, Virginia, and Maryland. The lessons I did learn the hard way include speed traps and parking enforcement... Damn remote cameras.

This week's lessons involve that there are multiple parkways, greenways, and beltways in the area, and there is always traffic, no matter what time of day. Since I never fully understand when Interstate 66 is HOV only (which I learned, HOV is High Occupancy Vehicle, and for us West Coasters, that's the carpool lane), I just avoid it, except after midnight (yes, sometimes I drive around when I can't sleep, or if I'm coming back from watching meteors).

The main lesson from this trip is the fun of driving on a toll road that leads to Dulles airport, but not really, and the joy of multiple toll entry/exit lanes, which may or may not have cost me over $10 in tolls... Virginia State Route 267, ladies and gentlemen. Read the Wiki on it, and get a migraine, or be like me, and suck it up and keep driving.

There's that moment of panic whenever I miss the exit and my GPS yells at me (note to self, change the voice to a more pleasant one. Does Morgan Freeman give directions?), and my ETA is increased and it eats into my buffer time. There's no wondrous feeling of adventure as I barreling down a two-lane road that has no turn out, no life, no bathroom, and worse, no signal. But then suddenly "in a quarter mile, turn left" chirps out at me, and the trip is back on. "Your destination is on the right."

These initial months of learning the roads far from my well traveled roads tear me up inside. There's the joy of driving through a green, tree laden Baltimore-Washington Beltway, learning the curves in the road, or knowing that the Ferris Wheel at the National Harbor will be lit up to my left as I'm on 495 South... Yet, the mild panic of not being about to cut into the left lane to avoid the "exit only" coming up in 500 feet because you forget yet again while crossing Memorial Bridge back into the city.

Then, forced to take the exit as far as it goes, I take a breath and continue straight. I know I live in the North East sector of the city, and this exit will take me North, so by virtue, if I just keep right turns east, and left turns north, I'll make it home, GPS be damned. And as luck would have it, I'll end up driving by a magnificent monument I have yet to see, and the sudden awe makes the panic all worth it...

Hello, Supreme Court. So that's where you are....

Like in life, one day I'll know where I'm going and how to get there without directions.

Until then, okay Google, how do I get to.....?

#ThursdayTravels, Solo Traveling, and Meteors

Every so often, I get a thought stuck in my head. I read a snippet, a phrase, that sparks my imagination and sense of adventure, and I just can't get it out of  my head how utterly awesome that must be to do. Then I find out that no one has done it before/the metro doesn't go there. Or that no one wants to do it with me, or that their schedule doesn't permit it, yadiyadiyah...

I have let a lot of adventures go by the wayside, because I couldn't find anyone to join me. Sharing the experience is sometimes as important as the experience, and social convection dictates that weirdo who came alone to dinner/concert/the most romantic place on earth is a sad lonely soul...

Well, no more.

This will the inaugural post of #Thursdaytravels, as a way to keep me in line with adventuring, with or without you, and to regularly write. Regularity can be a great thing amid spontaneity, so consider this my fiber.

So back to the thoughts that get stuck....

When I started listening to one of my favorite bands, Explosions in the Sky, I was struck by how wondrous I felt, and always thought they would be the perfect soundtrack to stargaze to. Blasting First Breath After Coma from the car speakers as I cuddle under the stars with my perfect partner-in-crime, and just feel the universe.

*Record scratches*

This city girl wasn't raised to spend time outdoors at night. So, camping is a totally foreign concept, and an irrational fear of bears and not being near flushing toilets, as well as not having someone to show me the ropes, largely kept me away from fulfilling my Into the Wild dreams.

I will say that the last 10 years of travels and adventures have eased me more into to nature, despite my nurturing, but when the Perseid's came around yesterday, I was still desperately searching for a more weathered soul to go out into the middle of nowhere to watch the meteors streak across the sky with me. And if not an outdoor expert, just another soul. Nevermind their level of comfort in nature, I just needed someone to outrun in case there really was a bear...

As luck would have it,  no souls were available, but I wasn't going to miss such perfect conditions to see the stars. And then truly, as luck would have it, the kind folks at Shenandoah National Park invited us mere mortals to lay down in their fields, without having to camp, and just take in the shower.

120 miles and 2 1/2 hours later, I found myself laying my sleeping bag on a dirt path in Big Meadows, where I laid, stunned at realizing that I was seeing the Milky Way for the first time. Headphones in, stars out, and the show began.

Remember the Windows 95 screensaver, Starfields? Yup, it was pretty much that.

Please play the song, and in a different tab, starfields, at the same time. Or find a different video of actual shooting stars. Then you might get a fraction of what it was I was feeling.

Ok I lied. You won't get any of it. The cicadas, or the cool breeze, the drool collecting on the side of my mouth as it hung open in sheer awe. The feeling of being so small and insignificant, at the same time, a oneness with the universe. These feelings that can't be talked about in everyday life, with normal everyday people who never look up, who never leave, who never do things alone, who never travel. So I may not have shared this experience with anyone intentionally, but there was a field full of people who did see the same thing I did, which gives me hope.

Holding on to this feeling as long as I can. Until next Thursday, at least.

"Travel only with thy equals or thy betters. If there are none, travel alone." -The Dhammapada

*No pictures available, because I couldn't do it justice. Okay fine, it's because I don't know how to actually take pictures beyond what I'm eating... But it's on my list. That and get a selfie stick as I continue my solo travels?

DC: Reigniting My Hunger and Expanding My Waistline, Asian Edition

I'm a simple girl for the most part, so long as you don't encounter me when I'm hangry.... Just leave the plate of food and back slowly away, don't make eye contact. Like a cat, I'll come to you when I want company, otherwise, just feed me and I'll be fine.

Moving to DC was one part dream fulfillment, one part escape route, one part rash decision due to hanger. Despite working in the food industry surrounded by delicious food all the time, my everything craved something else, from somewhere else. I missed ethnicity and diversity, and everything that came with it. So when it came time to leave Black and Gold country, I grabbed onto that first job offer and didn't look back.

So here I am, in the DMV (DC, Maryland, Virginia), and my, what a change a mere 4 hours does. This densely populated swamp lives up to its name in the summer, but thank goodness for air conditioning. The humidity and constant afternoon thunderstorms does quite literally put a damper on things, but with a plethora of patios to be sat on, and craft cocktails and beers to be drank, and happy hours to explore, one simply must just eat on.

I used to say that any city I moved to had to have a large and frequented international airport, access to higher learning, great food and culture, and a large body of water. Pittsburgh on paper sounded like it could have worked out, until it didn't. There was a marked lack of ethnic diversity that made me hunger for anything that wasn't Americanized [insert any cuisine here and supersize it]. DC's location as the nation's capital makes it a very natural place to come work, study, visit, and settle. Ethnic communities and restaurants can be traced back to international events that our country played a part in, which, while sad for displaced peoples, delicious for my belly (and well, crucial in my own existence and life story).

Oh, to see whole roasting ducks hanging from a window again... and people just barking out their orders in Cantonese/Mandarin/Vietnamese, and the rough looking butcher man wielding a cleaver like an extension of his arm, expertly whacking away at the slow roasted meats, sliding it neatly into a styrofoam box....

I'll admit, it's still not on the same scale, or maybe even standard of Asian that I'm used to, coming from California, but coming from Pittsburgh, it's an oasis. I do have to search high and low for these gems, but someone has to do it.

Note: Just because DC has a "Chinatown" does not mean it's a Chinatown, even if "The Body Shop" is written in Chinese. To find Chinese/any Asian food, one must venture into the M and V parts of the DMV.

And now, food porn.

Shaanxi Style Handmade Noodles, Panda Gourmet

Panda Gourmet, 2700 New York Avenue NE Washington, DC 20002

Located inside on the side of New York Avenue, adjoining a Days Inn Motel on the way to the Baltimore/DC Parkway, on the border of a predominately black neighborhood, a Szechuan/Xian makes its own biang biang noodles. And, it's only 10 minutes from my house. Score. The cumin and lamb flavors are far from my Canto/fish sauce/seafood roots, yet the rude servers made me feel right at home, despite my inability to order in Mandarin. 

Japchae, Yechon Korean Restaurant

Yechon Korean Restaurant, 4121 Hummer Rd. Annadale, VA 22003

24 hour Korean bbq place. I don't think I need to say anymore than that. Come hungry, and with friends, so you can order more. 

Xiao long bao, Bob's Shanghai 66

 Bob's Shanghai 66, 305 N. Washington St. Rockville, MD 20850

Would you believe I used to hate going to dim sum? The bad company, the wait, and the fact that we never ordered enough har gow... yet it is now a favorite ritual, once I got rid of the bad company. One can find calm and peace, sipping jasmine tea in the midst of cart ladies yelling their wares at you. Bob's however is more a cha chan tang than dim sum palace, with small plastic tables squished together, and a paper menu that gets white-outed and reused once you've made your order. If I was in the area, and there was no wait/or good company to wait with, I'd go back to this place, but it was far enough from my Canto requirements as to what proper dim sum is (no har gow!!) that I can't envision craving it. 

Seafood soondubu, any Korean market

 Any Korean Market, MD or VA

There's a food court in most, if not all Korean markets in the DMV. Not only that, some have Latin panaderias located in them as well. I love it. That being said, to avoid grocery shopping hungry, eat first. Under $9 for a boiling pot of whatever tang they have, but I always have to go for my seafood tofu stew....

Missing from this list of food porn is Vietnamese food. The often talked about Eden Center is a sad substitute for San Jose, Santa Ana, or my relatives, but when I'm (home)sick, nothing beats pho or banh cuon. The food unfortunately has not been food porn worthy, and I usually inhale it too quickly. I will say this: guanabana shakes.

Anyone have any recommendations, or would like to audition to be a dining partner?

On Navigating Pittsburgh

It is no secret that I did not enjoy my time in Pittsburgh. That fact was evident since I moved there two and half years ago, and sadly, not much changed when I finally moved. I had moved there to fulfill a dream of going to culinary school and working as a pastry chef, and it was most definitely a life changing experience. The things I learned at school, at work, and about myself have forever and fundamentally changed me. While most of the relationships I made won't be lasting, I do know that they will have a lasting impact on me, both positive and negative. That is as much as I choose to say about the bad.

This post is for the good things about Pittsburgh, and a guide for a 12-36 hour tour of the town (36 hour suggested only so you have enough time to get hungry and sober up between meals). I was reminded by my guests who visited me in Pittsburgh that they loved it, and I'm choosing to believe it was my awesome tour guiding skills versus the city in its entirety.

Things to do:

Shows:

Pittsburgh has a slew of cultural activities. In addition to a vibrant theater district, Pittsburgh is home to a world renown symphony, the Pittsburgh Symphony Orchestra, the Pittsburgh Ballet, and the Pittsburgh Opera. I have been lucky enough to attend shows by all 3. Heinz Hall, home of the Symphony, is absolutely gorgeous, as is the Benedeum Center, where the Ballet and the Opera perform.

If you are total nerd, check out the PSO's schedule for when they play Legends of Zelda.

At the Benedum for the Nutcracker. The Nutcracker himself had an amazing ass.

Ceiling of the Benedum

Live Music: 

Stage AE is a dual outdoor venue as well a small club. I got to see Fitz and the Tantrums and Caught a Ghost there. There's also lots larger venues, and Pittsburgh is a big enough town that they draw some pretty big names there. 

Caught a Ghost's female lead, Tessa Thompson, and an old high school classmate Tim McKay on sax. Got to hang out with the bad afterwards, so cool!!)

Museums and Art:

One word: Dinosaurs. Old steel money brought them there, and the city runs with it. The Carnegie Museums of Art and Natural History are awesome. Check out the 21+ nights, where you can drink and hang out with dinosaurs!

There are lots of statues of dinosaurs all over the city. Probably one of my favorite aspects of the town.

There are also large outdoor exhibits, and while no Nuit Blanche, there's a huge art and culture festival in September.

Outdoor architecture:

There are a few pretty awesome views and vantage points. My favorite is from the water. Of water. and water related things.

6th street bridge

They like their fireworks displays.

View of the city from the West End Overlook. Night time scene from Perks of Being a Wallflower.

Outdoor activities:

Aside from kayaking (seen above), there's lots of nature and hikes all around, some a short as a mere 45 minutes out of the city. Not to miss is Ohiopyle. 

Linn Run State Park

View from the road near Ligonier, PA

Food: 

Having moved there to learn about food, it makes me sad this list is not longer, but at the same time, much allowance must be made because there was a good chance I was drunk as well. That being said:

-Cure: for smoked and cured meats. A tad overpriced for what I actually got, but enjoyable. Drinks were ok.

-Salt of the Earth: consistently made me happy. Late night burgers, yum. Drinks were ok.

-Eleven: solid, every time. Best Manhattan in the city. Wonderful prix fixe brunch.

-Tender: amazing drinks. AMAZING. Used to have the best tater tots of my life, but they got rid of it, so it made for a sad birthday dinner. Potential for food, but I go there for drinks.

-Meat and Potatoes: was open and close by when I got off work. Food was always solid, but never made me crave it. Then I ordered the bone marrow my last evening there..... Oh. My. Arteries.

-The Library: I am sad and happy to say that this was my number place I go to, and the place I have eaten the most at, because their happy hour is awesome, and then there's deep fried bar food. Who doesn't love that. Such a wonderful ever changing craft draft list, and my wallet loved it too.

-The Speakeasy: Original Prohibition bar. Love the idea and the atmosphere.

-Wigle and Maggie's Farm: 2 small distilleries, found and visited on the same day, with wonderful company. Amazing booze as well.

-Burgh'ers: Honorable mention, not in Pittsburgh, but nearly 40 north. Has special wild game burgers. I had a llama burger, and was sad that I missed the Swedish alligator meatballs.

Burgh'ers

The Library

Cities will evolve, and with much luck, I will too. Perhaps we'll meet again Pittsburgh. But not for a while, okay?

New Year, New Clothes, New Luck

A self-imposed ban from shopping did not allow me to get any new clothes for Chinese New Year this year. So, I was gifted this instead:

I had to agree to a new job as an assistant chocolate maker and move to Washington, DC to get it, but small price to pay for a new lucky shirt, right?

Watch this video of my new boss, doing everything I will be doing in 3 short weeks. 

Undone Chocolate is an organic bean to bar chocolate company that has just 2 ingredients: cacao and sugar. 

Read more, and then buy some! 

I'm still trying to wrap my head around this new adventure, and once I find a place to live in DC, and pack and move from Pittsburgh, and settle in, I'll blog all about it under a cherry tree. 

Thank you to all of those who have been nothing but crazy supportive and sending me all their good juju to me. Come visit me!!

Salud, Por Que La Belleza Sobra

Adventure: Miami

When flying to a city in which you know no one and are not looking to be a total hermit, the best way to meet non-sketchy people are to stay in a hostel (meet them before the free happy hour tour starts), or Couch Surf. Pros and cons to both methods, but for this one trip, I decided to Couch Surf.

I started finding strangers on the internet and asking to stay with them 4 years ago, when I had 3 weeks off from my nannying gig in Paris, and decided to got to Spain. I had such a great time while surfing there that I tried to stay active in the community as much as possible. Met great friends through it, and it was how I found a place to stay initially when I moved to Pittsburgh. All in all, it's been great for me, and I've met some wonderful people through it.

My host told me she'd be working that evening, and given how I got it in my head that the Fruit and Spice Park was going to be the most amazing place ever (it totally was), I did my own thing, and ended up having dinner at the restaurant she works at. Yup, I found a random stranger on the internet, and she happens to be a cook!

So, for all you skeptics about Couch Surfing out there, I feel like I have to make the case for how wonderful it is, but for that to happen, you'd have to have an open mind, and have traveled/stayed in hostels/ met people out of your comfort zone. If that hasn't happened, well, I'm sorry, I feel like your life is a little less rich for it. In my case, I've only surfed in Europe, where there is a distinctly different attitude about travelers, and meeting strangers, I feel. Hospitality, is the word, I believe. It is my current industry, as is my host's, so when I got to her house, this was the welcome I received:

A curated selection of Cuban and Guatemalan pastries. Couch Surfers are awesome!!

Friday morning was spent taking the sun at Bill Baggs State Park, and me getting really hungry when I saw a live sea urchin next to my foot...

No sea urchin in this picture, but this star fish was bigger than my head.  I love how clear the water is!

I met up with my host in the late afternoon, when we had my first bite of Cuban food. I guess after years of rationing, to be in the land of plenty it means to have plates that match it. I inhaled a plate of steak with rice, beans, and tostones, and then killed half of my host's breaded chicken, and then we went and got chincharones, pork belly, plantain chips, and a mamey milkshake. All for me. Yes. Fatty.

Mesa's BBQ. Home of the best chincharones ever. 

Saturday brought me to my beloved pupusas, at the Pupusa Factory. So most of the immigrant population has been priced out of Miami proper, and probably Little Havana as well. Hialeah is the border town/Latin mecca where you're kinda screwed if you don't speak Spanish. Immigrants tend to stay with their own, and so next to Hialeah is Doral, where property prices have been driven up by rich Venezuelans and Colombians.

These pupusas are huge!! I normally order 3, but I barely finished 1! The one on the left is a shrimp and cheese one, with rice flour masa!

I did insist on going to Little Havana for some ice cream. I will admit, the movie Chef was very instrumental in getting me there. I had grand plans of dancing the night away at Hoy Como Ayer and eating cubanos at Versailles. Everyone I spoke with told me I was insane. No one goes to Little Havana for everything, and the atmosphere at these places are old, like senior citizen old. I guess it's a nostalgia factor; old Cubans who came when Castro took power, and in building this little enclave, this "little" Havana, it's how they kept their way of life alive, from playing dominoes at the park, to the multitude of cigar shops. And now, they are nothing more than a tourist attraction themselves.

"See here, a fossilized Cuban in his natural habitat..." I sat and chatted with my host's sister as I watched tourists hover over these men doing noting but going about their days, and yet their customs and habits will be recorded and Instagrammed....

I don't think the spirit of Little Havana has died yet, especially if there's such sweet spots as Azucar. Reviews of exotic flavors led me there, and while there was a lack of current crazy flavors, I did have the most delicious almond ice cream ever. None of the sickening almond extract, it was like eating churned almond butter. I had that and a Tagalong-peanut butter concoction. Que delicioso!

My eyes led me to this corner explosion of senses, the Cubaocho Art and Research Center was a block down from Azucar, and wow. Just wow. Instead of rushing off to have dinner after inhaling so much ice cream, I just had to sit down and take it all it. And have a mojito. I guess it's a Cuban saying, after you say "Salud", you follow it up with "por que la bellaza sobra," which all translates "to your health, because you're already so beautiful."

Dinner was an introduction to Colombian food that wasn't arepas. Pacaton, which are giant tostones, which are fried, unriped bananas. Oh, my belly.

Patacon de pollo

Oh my belly. I'll be back, Miami.

Hildago, Contigo, Baby Why Don't We Go...

Adventure: Miami, Florida
Length: 3 days

Ok, so I never learned the lyrics to the Beach Boys. It wasn't until after I spent days pouring over maps of Southern Florida in search of the best beaches that I learned that it was Key Largo, and not Hildago, because to me, it was so naturally "Contigo" afterwards... Well, now I know about Montego Bay.... Enunciate, people, enunciate! It took hearing it on while scanning the radio on my rental car for me to figure it out. At least I wasn't Jason Waterfalls.... (I know, I'm horrible. I love it.)

Anyways, there is only one acceptable reaction to seeing flights to Miami for $180 round trip after a fake out of a Snowmaggedon happens, and that is to buy the tickets immediately. The second task is to make a list of all things you want to eat.

Which led me to 35 acres of fruit trees, called the Fruit and Spice Park in Homestead, Florida, about 45 minutes south of Miami (Admission: $8). The promise of over 160 varieties of mangoes, and the ability to eat all the fruit I want that has fallen on the ground, I headed over as soon as I got my rental car.

Sidenote: I've only rented a car once before this, and this was a completely different feeling all together. It is extremely cheap (like, 7 bucks a day, but taxes and fees are like 8 bucks on top of that), and since the transport in Miami isn't all that great, and all the good Latin food is now in Hialeah, a car makes sense. 

After inhaling a lobster roll at the Mango Cafe on premises (as many ingredients sourced from the park as possible), I got on the tram for the 3:00 tour. It was a couple from California, myself, and the tour guide, who immediately took us off road, stopping every few feet to pluck things off bushes and trees for us to taste and smell.

Nostalgia, an edible flower. Spicy, like a radish, nice fresh crunch. Wouldn't mind that in my salad. 

Brown noser as I am, I was taking notes and asking questions to the point the paranoid guide asked me if I was reporting him or something. I said I was a pastry chef, and kinda obsessed with anything I can eat. He did take this to heart, and followed all following introductions of plant life with whether or not it was edible.

Jackfruits can grow upwards of over 70 pounds each. Size 8 female food for reference

Sadly, my beloved mangoes were not in season. Some avocados had started to flower, but still too soon. My favorite was a stop that was just for me (actually, there ended being a lot of those because of my questions. The 30 minute tour lasted for 1.5 hours because of me, but I didn't mind), when I asked about starfruits.

It's been so long since I've had a star fruit that I barely remember what it tasted like. Star fruits were part of my childhood, from my mother's childhood. Dipping fruit in salt very much a South East Asian thing to do, and people would look at me funny when I suggested it. We used to spend our summers filling our bellies with strawberries dipped in salt, until my later years when I discovered sugar, and when strawberries stopped being so sweet... But the star fruits were always tart, and always needed salt. Until now.

The rule in the park is you can eat anything on the ground, as long as it's not poisonous (duh). Be safe and only eat what you recognize. I would have eaten my fill if I wasn't saving room for dinner, and then the big fat maracuya/guanábana smoothie I didn't know I was going to have later....

If you are already down in Homestead to visit the Park, where they don't sell any fruit, then you have to drive 15 minutes further to the Robert Is Here Fruit Stand, home of the Key Lime Pie Milk Shake, and all the fruits seen in the park and more. I didn't want any dairy in my drink, so I had just fruit and ice, with just a tad of sugar to sweeten it. Perfection. I ordered passion fruit (maracuya) and guanábana, which is soursop (also known as custard apple or sugar apple).

Fun fruit facts:

- Jamaica Cherry, or Strawberry Tree (Muntingia Calabura): sorry, no photo. As luck would even have it, there was but one berry that was even ripe and ready to go, and as pastry chef, I got to try it. THIS FRUIT TASTES LIKE COTTON CANDY. And not in a gross Lip Smackers kinda of way (RIP Bonnie Bell), it was refreshing, without the sick sugary finish.

- Miracle Fruit, (Synsepalum dulcificum): a small berry native of West Africa that when eaten (well, sucked the thin layer of flesh off the fat seed), it alters your taste buds and makes everything sour taste sweet. We had a cold lemon to try, and it was like the most refreshing glass of fresh made lemonade on a hot summer day.... This may have been why my smoothie tasted so amazing afterwards, but it had been more than an hour after I ate the berry, so perhaps not.

- Sapote family: Mamey Sapote, Sapodilla, Black Sapote, and Canistel: Sweet potato in fruit form? I don't even know how to describe it, because this family is so damn unique.

I had the mamey in milkshake form; it was too sweet potato-y for me, but is a very popular batido (milkshake) flavor at most Latin restaurants in the area.

I bought a few sapodillas at Robert Is Here to bring back to Pittsburgh, based on description alone: pear with brown sugar. Didn't disappoint. I have 2 remaining and deciding what to do with them.

I read about Black Sapote as a chocolate replacement; because it looks like chocolate pudding, and taste kinda like it. I would have liked to try it again chilled and with some whipped cream. Has lots of potential, but fruit like that doesn't travel very well, so shipping is no bueno.

Canistel, also sometimes known as egg fruit, has insides that and has the texture of a hard boiled egg yolk. It's crazy. Like all sapote fruits, they have to ripen to the point of mush in your hands. I did not know this, all I knew was that I saw a piece of fruit on the ground, and the park rules said I could eat it.... Furtively glancing about in case I was going to get yelled at.. I sunk my teeth in, got a mouth full of wax...But the ones I bought home are ripened, and I am enjoying it in tequila smoothie form... Yum.

Black Sapote. Needs whipped cream.

Sapodilla. Tastes like pear with brown sugar. Delicious.

Stay tune for the Latin foods of Miami Hialeah.