The Yoga Passbook

For Christmas this past year, someone gifted me the 2011 Yoga Passbook. It has so many vouchers for yoga, pilates and dance that it's impossible to use them all. This is certainly not for someone who likes being in their comfort zone.
I've been to a "beginner" modern dance class near the financial district that about twenty minutes through I grabbed my stuff and moonwalked right out the back door. Don't get me wrong, I can cut a rug but these people were trained dancers!
I went to a kundalini studio near Union Square. Kundalini, you know, the hypothetical power of the sleeping coiled serpent in your sacrum that releases unlimited creativity and spiritual potential. Count me in! Well until I went in and saw all the white turban-clad heads and an hour and a half of chanting later. Wow, can we say cult?? I could go on for days. "sensual floorwork" dance, crawling around on the floor in a dimly lit room sound like my cup of tea. Who would have known that getting my taxes done that morning would be the sexiest part of my day? Perhaps it is I, who should be giving them the class?
The passbook has absolutely been a positive experience. I have tried every type of yoga imaginable. Detaching from thoughts! Connecting to breath! Truth! Flexibility! Bursting your heart open to infinity! and then you might end up in a Hindu Temple on Avenue B. Yes, there is a Hindu Temple on Avenue B. And the Feldenkrais Method, I'm still trying to figure out what the hell that was.
The greatest hits so far? Gyrotonics, gyrokensis, pilates, bellydance, pole dance, barre, acroyoga, partner yoga and a class with this guy:

This is Sri Dharma Mittra. He made me feel like I've been in Adho Mukna Svanasna for the past ten years of my practice. He is seventy two and still teaches everyday. One of the first poses he had us go into was headstand. This guy is not fucking around. He is the guy that came up with this:

This poster of 908 yoga poses is framed and nailed on walls of studios around the world. He could have really cashed in on the fame and by the look of his simplistic studio, he keeps it real. I've been to studios in the city with eucalyptus chilled towels, crowded with over groomed women adorned in Lululemon, manipulative marketing and overpriced services. The best part of the class was when he did a demo of pose with a student and then pretended to fart in his face.
I regret to inform you that I will not be using the voucher for naked yoga nor will I be attending Jazzercise. I shall continue to breath and be aware of the present moment for it is my birthright.

Double Crowned

After a long arduous battle with my ego, I released the death grip with which I was grasping to my former life, allowing me to progress forward to my next adventure. Let me tell you, changing the direction of this 747 was not easy.
My days spent with hair extensions, girly vintage dresses and lip gloss gave way to a chefs uniform, sweat dripping down my back and plating marrow out of a 400 degree oven with my bare hands. The transition has not been easy but the growth has been incredible and not a day has gone by where I have not learned something new. Not just about Southeast Asian cuisine or culinary skills but the dynamic of the kitchen is suiting my needs at this point in my life. The perks of eating and drinking like a queen, working with primarily men and my schedule allowing me to roll out of bed at noon to do yoga-who could ask for more?
Double Crown(named for British colonialism in the East)is the sister restaurant to Public-a Michelin star restaurant where the chef de Cuisine is an Iron Chef winner. So this is no around the way Chinese food.
Naturally, I was at first resistant to the cuts and burns on my exfoliated manicured hands but I have since surrendered and now welcome the physical labor, blood, sweat and tears. These guys are making a man out of me for sure. I am conquering fears I was unaware I possessed.
I am no more, the woman out of her element,separated from the world by a pane of glass. Trying to synchronize the beats of my wilting heart to horrible techno music and dumbing down to mindless conversation as I watched humanity and season after season go by, palms of hands and a cheek pressed to the glass as if I were in exile, longing to taste the fruits, breath in luxurious inhales and exhales with sweet air, dream in color-you get the idea, simple pleasures. No more will I persevere through day after miserable day for such petty reasons. After ten days of meditation in India, one of the most valuable things I learned was that attachment is what brings misery. Attachment to anything-ideas, people, jobs, the past, or material things. My career thus far has brought so much to my life, new people, new food, new skills but if it succumbs to suit my needs I'll move it right along. Fuck it, I'll cook on my own time, ya know?

a little hazing from these guys wasn't so bad;)

Rob from pastry making pizza for family meal(perhaps the best pizza ever!)

my bro Bekah and I, we are wearing men's extra large and the sex appeal is STILL oozing out of us
a dish from our Valentines day menu, seared hamachi with diakon, cucumber, truffle oil, braised hijiki, kuzu soy dressing and taro chips

an hor d'oeurves from our New Years Eve party

apple salads, I've developed a fetish for building these abstract little towers

Time Out states in their Sex and Public Bathrooms article, and I quote:
"Each of the six coed stalls in this classy cocktail joint are equipped with the basics, plus a chest of drawers, a chair, racy red lighting and plenty of room to get busy. But while it’s keenly outfitted and eat-off-the-floor clean."

and I shall leave you with this.....