Hooked On Hot (Part II): Nakamoto

I've been dreaming about going to Nakamoto for about three years now. The obsession began thanks to a Korean Airlines in-flight entertainment system, where peppered among the current Hollywood hits and classic movies, were several short Korean documentaries. One of them, subtitled in English as "Addicted To Hot Food," was hosted by a twenty-something guy who traveled with a small camera crew, visiting several places noteworthy for their spicy cuisine. These hot spots, if you will, included Calabria-the hot pepper capital of Italy, Avery Island in Louisiana-home of the world famous Tobasco Sauce, and a close up look at the fiery delights of where I was headed, South Korea.

Stirred into the mix was a segment about a special noodle bar in Tokyo, Japan. While Tokyo is stuffed with noodle bars, this particular one has created a rabid cult following of 'hot' fanatics. In droves, they line up outside the doors to sample the spicy ramen and accept their punishment.

I had to get to this place. But unable to catch the name, I was worried I may never get to try one of these flaming red rivers of fury. I went to Japan last year and was grateful that Kay, a Japanese friend who works in the music industry, was able to track it down based on what little information I'd given her. But due to scheduling, there was no time for me to visit. However, my luck changed this year with a return to Japan and a tour that included a night off in Tokyo. This presented the opportunity to fulfill my pilgrimage of pain.

The menu at Nakamoto consists of about a half dozen varieties of Ramen bowls, with a spiciness level of one to five. Figuring that I'd waited so long and traveled so far, I decided to go with the hottest and most famous, known as Hokkyuku or 'North Pole.' It hit me hard, immediately rivaling any hot dish I've ever had. This included Indian Vindaloo and Korean bul dak or 'fire chicken,' which I'd learned about from that same short film. The 'North Pole' ramen was, like its name suggested, white hot, an onslaught of spiciness and intensity of flavor.

Taking a break to wash it down with some beer, I noticed the cooks wearing these really cool black jerseys. They were not for sale to the public and only worn by the staff. The sleaves had the Chinese symbol for 'good luck' and, adding to the fortuitousness, had the English number "1968" on the back. This is my birth year and, as it turns out, also the year the restaurant opened. I couldn't help but think there was something very symbolic about this whole experience.

Kay explained to them in Japanese that I was a 'famous' American guitarist, born in 1968 and told the story of me seeking out the restaurant. The staff insisted on picking up a brand new shirt for me from their warehouse the next day. In my limited Japanese, I thanked them and in English, promised to wear it for my photo shoots, including Burn Magazine, Young Guitar and other Japanese music magazines. I would end up wearing it onstage for all the remaining shows in Japan as well.

Back to the task at hand: finishing my bubbling bowl of lava. The beer wasn't doing much to quell the pain and with sweat pouring down my forehead, my brain contemplated whether or not to 'abort mission.' But then, like settling into a musical piece, it seemed the more I hung in there, the more tasty it got. The flavor felt so alive and molten, like I was eating liquid fire. I managed to consume about 3/4 or more of the ramen and its shiny red broth, the hottest single meal I've ever had.

"Are you alright?" Kay asked afterward. I couldn't tell if she was impressed or bewildered by my madness, probably both. Having ordered the 'level 1,' she was safe. That made one of us.

"I'll be fine" I lied.

I felt like I was on drugs, blinded by the lights of the Shibuya District, setting of one of my favorite films, "Lost In Translation." I could hear the film's atmospheric soundtrack in my head. My stomach hurt and I was a bit fearful about the next morning. A little cold sake at a tiny bar nearby helped ease the pain, but I knew there was no avoiding the inevitable: I was heading for an extreme 'hot' hangover.

So how did I feel the next morning? I'll put it this way: I'd recently read about a statue of a Greek war hero who, captured by the Turks and sentenced to death, was impaled through his rectum. Let's just say I felt his pain.

Was it worth it? Absolutely. I'm happy to say I tried the "North Pole" ramen, although next time I'll probably go with a level 2 or 3. It was a 'mildly' dangerous adventure and a fun story to tell. I'm thankful to the staff for making the experience even more memorable and to my friend for taking me. Though I don't think I'll be ordering their hottest ramen again, I eagerly look forward to going back to Nakamoto.


Funny video

Hooked On Hot

It's been said that your first hit of marijuana can lead to heroin addiction. Like most, I recognize this myth as a silly scare tactic, despite not being a big fan of pot or of potheads. But when it comes to chili pepper, it is true, at least in my case. My first hit turned me into a hot food junky.

I was eight years old and had simply grabbed a 'Spicy' V8 juice out of the fridge by mistake. The molten red liquid stung like a bee, searing my virgin tongue as if it was suddenly placed on a barbecue. Why would anyone willingly inflict this sort of pain on themselves?

I soon found myself sprinkling red pepper flakes on my pizza, dropping Tobasco sauce in my soups and adding chilled pepperoncini to my sandwiches. Within a few years, I was dipping chips into jalapeno salsa at Mexican taquerias, spooning Hunan chile sauce on my plate at Chinese restaurants, loading up on Korean spicy cabbage known as 'Kim Chee,' and indulging in Thai and Indian curries with extra hot sauce on the side. I was fortunate that Berkeley, with its large international community, had a lot of options for which to indulge my explorations of everything spicy.

As I'd later experience with my first sip of scotch and my first oyster, stumbling upon something you'll one day love often begins with an unpleasant first step. This first step plants a seed, in this case a capsicum seed, which blossoms into a passionate plant of obsession. So what is it about hot food that keeps adventurous eaters such as myself coming back again and again to challenge ourselves, sometimes to the point of regret on the part of our stomachs?

The answer may be found in extreme music, such as heavy metal, hip hop, punk, avant garde jazz and twelve tone classical. These forms take you out of the so called 'normal' frame of reference and put you in a place of excitement, where you can step away from what is considered 'safe.' Here, in this elevated zone of heightened sensory awareness, you become independent from the mainstream. In much the same way, hot food lies outside of the realm of blandness embodied by tuna salad, meatloaf, Wonder Bread, Campbell's Soup and others items so commonly accepted in American homes.

Like an intense live concert, a spicy meal may leave you feeling beat up and worn out. But you also realize you have lived a little bit fuller as a result and are glad you did. And as soon as you recover, you find you are better for the experience and look forward to more.

In part II, we'll look at a special restaurant I visited in Japan a few days ago, whose deadly 'spicy ramen' inspired this post. It was delicious, painful and the hottest meal I've ever had...

Morning Music/Evening Music

Feb. 22, 2007 9:24am

Morning Music

I’m watching my DVD of pianist Chick Corea, one of my all time favorite musicians. I purchased it at a discount when we were doing an in-store appearance in Australia last month, at a store that specialized in concert videos. Everyone else in the band was picking up Rainbow Live, Judas Priest Live etc…I felt like such an oddball with my ten DVD box set of Chick Corea live at the Blue Note in NYC.

I probably could have gone to those Chick Corea shows last year (there were ten, each with different musicians) but as usual, I was away. It drives me crazy that when I’m away so much, I miss so many good things, like these concerts. Then again, when I’m home I flake on so many things like this and don’t go. I'm not home much these days and when I am, I’m often exhausted, recovering from tour. I probably need to find more of a balance. At least I have this video.







So as I listen to the elegant cascades of fluid notes from Chick's grand piano interweaving with those of Gary Burton’s vibraphone (his duet partner on Disc 4), I’m thinking of the fact that it’s morning and this is perfect music for the morning. I guess it’s a bit ironic that the music was performed and captured at a jazz club in the evening. Had I been there, it would be dark outside and I'd have a martini with Kettle One vodka and extra olives in a tall chilled glass with a thin stem. I'd probably be wearing a shiny button down shirt and if I was with a companion, she'd be wearing a slinky evening dress and we'd blend in with other jazz lovers at the Blue Note. This scene would blend perfectly with the very same music I'm hearing now to form the epitome of late night noir sophistication.

But right now, this music is all about the fact that it’s fresh daylight outside, things are beginning, energy is rising.

Chick has another tune ‘Morning Sprite’ the title of which strikes me as evidence that I may not be the only one who sees a connection between jazz piano and the morning. To me, the morning is about gaining focus and great piano music, be it jazz or classical, really inspires the me for the rest of the day for some reason.

Evening Music

Don't get me wrong. I love my metal, but it doesn't usually work for me in the morning.

For years I would wake up to a tour bus engulfed in a cloud of pot smoke, a porn video on the TV screen and a Slayer's "South Of Heaven" blaring from the stereo. The few who were awake hadn't gone to bed yet and were obnoxiously intoxicated. All the focus, quiet and inner peace I'd gained through a night of sleep seemed to jump out the bus door and onto the highway. There was nowhere else to go. The album cover artwork pretty much captures how I felt. It was like I was one of those poor, tortured souls, drowning in a sea of blood and debauchery.

I'm really glad our tours aren't like that anymore. No one blasts music in the morning anymore and there is more respect for the space of others.

Is it just me, or are certain activities, such as drinking, smoking and extreme metal, just more cut out for the evening? Hearing Slayer very early just feels weird, like starting the day with a cigar or a shot of whiskey. If it works for you, great. I'll join in once it gets dark.

"Everybody's Metal!" III

1) Full name, age and location.

Chimen M. Klein, 39, Harbor City, CA


2. Describe yourself. What do you do?

I am a Delta Air Lines customer service agent.


3. Any previous occupations, education etc...

I have an Associates Degree in Applied Science. I majored in Aeronautical Technology and took several aviation classes which include Introduction to Flight Theory, Aviation History, Flight Physiology, Aviation & Government, Meteorology, and Aviation Law.


4. What first got you into metal?

I remember when my sister got the AC/DC "Back In Black" album and thinking this is really cool. Then I was in my room one day and Ozzy's "Flying High Again" came on the radio. That is what did it for me.


5. What is it about metal that is meaningful to you?

Metal has a marked effect on the mind and emotions through its broad extent of topics that it covers. Everything from government & politics, to world tragedies, to natural disasters to sorcery. I also have great appreciation for the intense artwork found on album covers.

6.Who are some of your favorite metal bands? Favorite albums? Favorite concerts?

Favorite bands- Exodus, Fates Warning, Iron Maiden, Sepultura, Slayer, Testament

Favorite albums- Anthrax: Among The Living, Death Angel: The Ultra Violence, Flotsam and Jetsam: Doomsday For The Deceiver, Judas Priest: Screaming For Vengeance, Metal Church: The Dark, Sacred Reich: Ignorance, Testament: The New Order

Favorite song- Testament "The Evil Has Landed", because nobody will ever forget 9/11 and I think that it hits a little closer to home for me because I work in the aviation industry. This is truly the best song yet ever written about America's fateful day.

Favorite concerts- Everyone remembers their first concert and for me that was Yngwie Malmsteen and Saxon. Other memorable ones include: 1989 Headbangers Ball with Anthrax, Exodus, and Helloween; the entire western US tour I went on in 1990 with Death, Carcass, and Pestilence; 1991 New Titans On The Block with Sepultura, Napalm Death, Sacred Reich, and Sick Of It All; 1991 Slayer and Testament; 1996 Ozz Fest with Sepultura, Slayer, Danzig, Fear Factory, and Biohazard; and more recently The Metal Masters with Judas Priest, Heaven and Hell, Motorhead, and Testament


7. How do you feel being into metal affects you as a person? Does it give you a different outlook and perspective? How?

Growing up it gave me that "don't f_ _ k with me" attitude. It has given strength in dealings in certain past relationships, and has made me the confident and strong willed person that I am today.


8) If you had to tell someone else about why you love metal what would
you say?

I love everything about metal. I love the explosive raw energy it puts out. I love the extreme aggression, ripping guitar riffs, and the rhythmicity in the choruses. I even like some of the love ballads.


9.How has being metal changed your outlook or perspective on day to
day living?

It has made me want to have more knowledge in this world. Knowledge is power. In my early years in high school I didn't care too much about my classes. Then my junior year in my English Literature class we had to read "The Rime of the Ancient Mariner" by Samuel Taylor Coleridge. Of course I really got into this, as it was the year after Iron Maiden released "Power Slave". Needless to say, I did really well on that project and realized that learning could be a lot of fun depending on what you put into it.


10. Did you ever look like a typical metal fan? If so, how old
were you and what made you change? If not, did you ever consider it and what
changed your mind?

Yes. I'm almost embarrassed to say that all through high school I wore mini skirts with ripped up fish nets and heels or spandex with studded leather belts and bracelets. Then in 1987 I moved to Houston where there was a huge thrash and death metal scene and from then on it was all denim and no more hair teasing.


11. Does being into metal affect your career in any way? In other words, do you bring a metal quality to your work?

No not really. However, because of my career and working for an airline I have had great opportunities to travel the world. It has enabled me to visit different cities to go to concerts, metal festivals, and rock museums.


12. Do you ever feel a conflict between your inner metalhead and your non metal surroundings?

Never. Metal is what I am.


13. Are your peers and co-workers aware of your metal side? What do
they think about it?

Yes, they're aware and most of them think I'm a nut.


14. When you were growing up, what did your family think of your metal interests? How about now? If you have a family of your own, please describe them and their thoughts on your metal side.

Growing up my parents put up with it. However, when the posters of Eddie (Iron Maiden's horror film influenced mascot) went up my mom got a little concerned. Then once every square inch of my bedroom and closet was covered and I started work on the bathroom walls she put a stop to it.

My husband, I guess you could say he puts up with it. I mean he would never listen to it by himself or while driving or anything, but I must say that he truly loves going to the live shows. He gets a big kick out of watching me having a blast and rocking out.

As for my 4 year old, well I often catch him headbanging to the music in his car seat through my rear view mirror. Ah yes, my little metal head.

New Orleans Breakfast Blues

(Written last July and also posted on yelp.com)

"The Corner" in New Orleans should rename itself "Lame Rip Off."

I was drawn in because the sign said "Breakfast Served All Day" and it had large windows and antique tables. Looked like a winner.

But the first thing I noticed when I came in was sports flags all over the ceiling and a staff dressed in the black and white jerseys of football referees, complete with whistles. The stripes of their uniforms, along with their demeanor, made them seem more like prison inmates. They were sad, lost, miserable souls without a smile to be found, numbed by it all as 80's pop hits, such as Steve Winwood's "Roll With It" blasted from the stereo over the practically empty restaurant.

I'd also noticed a sign saying "We serve bottled water only," which I took to mean something like "Our glasses of water are fresh, right from the cooler, not from the tap." But I found out the truth when I asked for a glass of water from the waiter, who had all the excitement and enthusiasm of the perpetually bored cartoon dog "Droopy."

"You gotta buy a bottle o'water, Chief" he said.

Translation: this tourist trap, corporate chain like blight on the otherwise shining city of New Orleans will not serve you a glass of water. They make you pay for an overpriced bottle.

This should have been my clue to leave, but I wanted to give this place a chance. It was right on Jackson Square in the center of a city with great food all around. How bad could it be? Undaunted and determined to attain the breakfast I so desired, I ordered an ice tea. Then I looked at the menu. The prices seemed reasonable, at first.

"What do these come with?" I asked my server about the eight dollar omelettes.

"Nothing, chief. There's the sides right there." he said, pointing to the lower section of the menu, which showed home fries for $4 and toast for $2.50. In other words...you pay $8.00 for a plain omelette that comes with nothing. Then you have to pay another $6.50 for toast and home fries.

At this point, I probably should have paid for my ice tea, cut my losses and gotten the hell out of there. But I was hungry and a bit hungover. I figured, at the very least, this place would at least provide me a good meal, despite prices that were comparable to room service at the Westin.

When the 'omelette' arrived, it was a thin strip of egg over the 'toppings,' each of which I was charged an extra 1.50 for! The 'home fries' were those cheap, crispy, frozen, plastic like ones that you get only in the cheapest of diners. And the toast had all the freshness and authenticity of Wonder Bread.

I took a couple bites and decided not to waste my appetite, bite the proverbial bullet, go somewhere else and call this a valuable lesson. When the bill came, the total was $22 (gratuity had been included). Twenty two dollars for a cheap, lame, pathetic excuse for a breakfast.

To the owners of The Corner: Shame on you.

To everyone else: New Orleans, La. is filled with great restaurants, some of the best I've ever eaten in. But if you ever find yourself visiting there do NOT, by any means, ever eat at a restaurant called "The Corner" at Jackson Square.