What I hear you saying is...

This morning I was driving north up Middlefield Road trying to avoid @#%$ 101 traffic, and was passing the old Netscape campus, when I was hit with a wave of nostalgia. The place is now mostly gonzo - with some remnants of AOL still clinging on for dear-life somewhere off Ellis St. -- but any vestige of the once mighty, pulsing armageddon "N" logo is long since gone.

Now it's Verisign and Mercury Interactive and other sundry tech companies you probably use on a daily basis and don't even think or care about. Then I crossed Whisman and drove past the now-empty lot that was once The Wagon Wheel . How many deals were brokered in that place? It was the Buck's of Mt. View in its time. And this got me to thinking about how we age in dog-years here in the Valley. Suddenly 10 years seems like an eternity. I've been here *forever*.

Back when I started my tech career, fresh out of grad-school as a QA lackey for Apple's FileMaker database group, I had a lot of questions about large company life. I didn't understand why my salary was so crappy, or that getting laid-off might work to my benefit. I had no idea what a matrixed org was, or what it meant when an exec took "time off to be with family". I wasn't sure if my boss was any good, or how to tell.

And Silicon Valley was a pretty strange landscape. I mean, just look at El Camino Real -- at first blush, a tawdry blight on humanity; but with closer inspection, hidden gems of strip-mall pleasure were abundant. Where could I find good kabobs? Was there a decent dry-cleaner? Could I trust that the tacqueria next to the CalTrain in Mt View was ecoli-free?

If only there had been some sort of guide, nay oracle, nay ALL SEEING EYE that could have helped me as I groped through years of turmoil, angst and indecision.

Well suck it up, gentle reader, 'cause there's a new sherriff in town -- and what he hears you saying is that you need to read this blog :-)

Update: Holy Cr@p...

Did you see the Fiesta Bowl? The one in which the darkest-of-all-horses - The Boise St.Broncos (pun intended, oh yes) - defeated The University of Oklahoma Sooners - one of the most revered football institutions in the land? This game had it all - including two of the finest sand-lot plays in the final minutes - hook-and-ladder followed by a statue-of-liberty. The only way they could have trumped this would have been a flying-wedge on the kick-return for a TD. Oh man, you saw this one, didn't you?

Tell the truth. No, you didn't see it. I didn't see it. Everybody knew this was going to be a blow-out, and so you tuned into another episode of CSI-Spokane or whatever else was on because there was no way that the lowly Broncos, practically a division II team, could pull this off against the Sooners.

But they did.

Now everyone who didn't see it has the pleasure of reviewing the choice bits on YouTube ad nauseum, so they may have well tuned in. And now the Broncos are America's favorite team.

This shouldn't surprise anyone. This is no different than when the rag-tag, fugitive 1980 US Olympic hockey team snatched the puck from Sauron in the final seconds of the game and cast it into the exhaust vents of the Death Star, saving hockey fans, Leia, and middle-earth alike (and finding Earth in the process).

Everyone loves an underdog.

They are so compelling, in fact, that I think some people ruin their lives in the process of trying to become one:

I have a friend working at a big name company that, from the outside, could be construed as a good place to work. But from personal experience, I can assure you it's not a nice place. (I recently saw "The Devil Wears Prada" and the line A million girls would kill for this job. comes to mind) Now, this friend - we'll call her Frankie - has been with this company for a long time. She's one of the most dedicated managers I've ever seen, treats her people really well, gets a lot of the plum projects, and has the respect and admiration of all. Sounds like Frankie should be happy, right? Well, she isn't really. She's sad to have seen her company evolve from a nimble, exciting start-up into a calcified, hydra of indecision and questionable management. She's seen outsiders that are less qualified come in and make bad situations worse. But perhaps most frustrating is that she's seen old friends leave to start several new and exciting companies -- including one that Google just acquired for buku-dolares.

Why does she stay? Does she suffer from a type of corporate Stockholm Syndrome, in which she can rationalize any decision that the management makes as right for the company? I don't think so. She knows her situation is terrible, and yet she doesn't act on it. Frankie has very high ethical and moral standards, and she's got a bit of Don Quixote running through her veins. She sees her decision to stay and fight the good fight -- namely protecting her employees from cruel machinery of "the firm" -- as an act of obligation. This is, of course, very admirable. But it's also highly self-destructive and demoralizing in the long run. In the end, her ability to save employees from death-march projects and dead end careers is limited. In fact, the best thing she could do for them would be to forage for greener pastures elsewhere in the Valley, and then bring those engineers with her.

No, the reason she stays is that she wants to fight "the power". And she's an incurable under-dog. She's a Boise State Bronco.

Boise State will be back next year, and who knows -- they just might field another good team. And of course OU will be back next year, too. And the next. And the next. Because even though Oklahoma lost this year, they've got tradition, history, momentum, and a commitment to generally kicking-ass on the gridiron.

So when the next NCAA season rolls around, and you find yourself perched in the barco-lounger, cracking another cold-one and watching the Akron Zips get crushed by the Michigan Wolverines, pause for a moment and make sure you aren't identifying with that under-dog team just a little too closely. Your future might depend on it. :-)

Heh... How about a nicey greasy pork sandwich, rolled around in a dirty ashtray?

Or how about the best damn Pho in the Bay Area? It's been damn cold lately - even for the Valley. And that means it's time for soup! But so many places to choose from...

Luckily, this last summer some local Japanese I met pointed me to a list they had put together. These guys are so hard-core, they profiled something like 30 Pho (a.k.a "VietMen") places around the Valley and ranked them all

The winner for Beef Pho was a place down in the nether-regions of South San Jose called...

Pho Y

This place gets additional kudos for naming itself something that, even if I can't pronounce correctly, at least I can spell. Their beef/tendon is the best I've had. The steak bits are really tender, the tendon just melts... but the soup - oh the soup! That's the mark of any solid noodle place -- the noodles are important, but the soup is critical. It's complex but light, with just enough beefiness to give it character.

So in honor of Pho Y, and for those of you with little time to wade through all those Yelp reviews, I'm resurrecting my Haiku Review of restaurants:

There are but three things
I would drive twenty miles for:
Pho Y is that good

That's all you need to know.

Now get driving.

Pho Y #1
1660 E. Capitol Expressway
San Jose, CA 95121
(408) 274-1769

Will I ever find
an izakaya that rates?
I guess not tonight...

I went to an Izakaya down in Santa Clara on Friday night called "Hoshi". I had never tried it, and the Yelp reviews were rave, so I was very excited to try a new place. Overall, the experience wasn't awful, but it was a reminder that some bits and pieces of Japan just don't seem to export very well.

Back in another lifetime, when I was living here and working for these guys, I spent a lot of money eating and drinking out -- most of it in Izakayas of one type or another.

What is an Izakaya? The laziest definition is that it's a bar that serves "Japanese Tapas". That's not completely wrong, but irrititating in that it's using one culture's cuisine to describe another's (i.e. it's about as relevant as calling Tapas, "Spanish Dim Sum"?) But as I mulled the question over my sake sampler, I realized how difficult it is to define. What makes a good Izakaya? Here's a stab:

1. Intimacy
Great Izakayas are intimate. This doesn't mean quiet, but it does mean cozy and warm. One should expect encroachment into their personal area by either another patron, or some attribute of the small space (i.e. you are seated under a stairwell or next to a wooden post holding up the roof).You're going to be drinking, and there's a good chance you're gong to get to know your neighbor - well.

2. Character
If the place is 'traditional', then the place should be awash in brick-a-brack and paper menus adorning the wall. The place should be brimming with chotchkes of randomness, photos of drunken fetes curling from years of age, dusty shelves of bottles kept for regulars, the deprecated pink 10-yen local-only public telephones, and most importantly a resounding IRRASHAI ("welcome") when you walk in the door from everyone working (not just the chefs or waiters). This means they are into what they are doing - they are at the center of having a good time (just like Damone's sage advice in Fast Times: "act like wherever you are, that's the place to be.") On the other hand, if the place is more modern and upscale, it should be mellow and understated. An interior with nice contrasts like cedar and slate or river stones and glass --darkly lit, with judicious and sparing use of halogen for accent. The service should be brisk and non-intrusive, and the waitstaff should be experts in the menu and bar.

3. Music
This is tough. I've been to great Izakayas that play everything from Classical to Heavy Metal. It really depends on the crowd, but great Jazz is always a pillar. If you walk in and hear Miles, Stan, or Yuji Ohno on the stereo (after the deafening Irasshai, of course) you are off to a good start. Incidentally, the same goes for Japanese coffee houses - if you hear jazz walking in, you know that they're using some crazy cold-filtration process that is going to cost you nine-bucks a cup - but it will be totally worth it. But that's another post...).

4. Location

Izakayas should never be on the first floor. You cannot walk directly into a good Izakaya - you must either decend into a bordello of gluttony or ascend into an exclusive aerie. Either can work, but the effect is obviously very different. Basement Izakayas are generally more raucous and because they have no windows it has a Vegas effect on the time-continuum. I missed a few "last trains" thanks to these. High-level Izakayas often afford spectacular views and can be a more rareified, mature experience.

5. Drink
A great collection of sake is a must, but the place must have at least two different beers on tap (and in Japan, if it's an oh-so-rare micro-brewery, big points) and they must serve mixed sho-chu (soju for you Korean fans) drinks with freshly squeezed citrus (called Chu-Hai). If there is Yuzu chu-hai on the menu, prepare for a long and memorable night. (Ok, maybe you won't 'remember' anything, but you understand...)

6. Food
Ok, this is a gimme, but I saved it for last because without it the whole thing falls apart even with the rest of the formula. Ideally, your menu is 50% to 65% staples and the remainder as daily specials or better yet a "special menu". First the staples should be kick-ass and not menu filler. The Kara-age (fried chicken) should be laser-hot and the grease still popping when it hits your table. Same with the agedashi-dofu or calamari or anything else fried. All Kushi-Katsu dishes (things on a stick - e.g. Yakitori) should be served with the right complements. That is, some need salt, others soy-sauce, ponzu, ume, and some need nothing at all. If you get a big bucket of BBQ sauce, you're in trouble. The specials should rotate frequently and there should be lots to choose from. Extra credit for signature dishes that can't be found anywhere else. Oh, I almost forgot. Great Izakayas never serve sushi. The necessary precision and attention to detail just doesn't mix with greasy beer food, and anyone that tries is going to fail. Restaurants in the US try this all the time to cater to American pallates. Sashimi is borderline, but sushi, never. It's like ordering clam chowder at an Indian restaurant.

So how did "Hoshi" rate"? They did pretty well on points #1, #2, and #3, although the place was freezing and we were seated near the door. No place that I've visited in the US has ever passed on #4. The big problem was #6 - the food just didn't cut it. The sashimi was still frozen (see what I mean?) and the tempura had way too much batter. It wasn't bad, but it wasn't great. I'll probably give it another shot in the summer once things warm up, and spend more time with their menu,

Honestly, there is only one Izakaya that I've been consistently pleased with, and that's "Saizo" in Sunnyvale. They nail the food everytime. Now that I've laid-down the ground criteria for the ideal Izakaya, I'll review them in a later post :-)

Hoshi Restaurant
246 Saratoga Ave
Santa Clara, CA 95050
(408) 554-7100

It's not too often
that I get to recommend
a true sausage-fest

I'm generally leery of all-you-can-eat places. Not that I'm uninterested in a good bargain - it's just that the quality to quantity ratio is too far out of whack. There are rare exceptions (e.g. Palace BBQ in Santa Clara) but generally I steer clear... (heh, he said steer)

So when R suggested a place up in SF called "Espetus" -- a Brazillian Churrascaria -- for lunch, I was skeptical. I did the requisite reconnaissance on Yelp and Chowhound to see what I was getting myself into, and the reviews were mixed enough that I still wasn't convinced. But, we went anyway - and lo and behold it was pretty good. Based on the negative reviews, though, I have a feeling we got lucky with logistics. So let me address each of the complaints by theme, in an effort to maximize your meat-fest, should you choose to go.

#1 "Too much meat"
First, if you've never been to a Churrascaria, it's all about meat. If you are vegetarian, don't go because you will be horrified when the first waiter approaches your table with ten pounds of steaming sirloin impaled on a sword. The way it works is, you are first seated and offered drinks, and then you amble back to the salad bar and are encouraged to gorge on grilled vegetables and the like. Think of this part as the vermouth in a very dry martini:
you just want a hint of health-consciousness before the meat comes. Then the meat starts to come. The aforementioned waitstaff whisks by with sword after sword of glistening meat. And they keep coming until you just can't take it anymore. So, if you don't like meat... you have no business here: Oh, and to milk (heh) the double-entendres, the ratio of guys to gals in this establishment was probably 7:1 - that's both staff and diners. Meat-fest.

#2 "Too crowded"
The tables are precariously close together, and if they were at capacity, I can understand this beef (ok, I'll stop). But we arrived just as they opened on Sunday, at noon. The place was practically empty because we were the first ones there (and it was Sunday after all), and it really didn't fill-up until around 1:30 and by that time we were done. We got a choice table right in front of the large windows overlooking Market. The restaurant faces South, so it was flooded with sunlight and was quite warm and cheery. Oh, plus we were able to street-park for free on Gough about 100 yards away. Yeah Sunday.

#3 "Too expensive"
Yelp quoted $45-$60 per person, which seemed steep, but worth a try. We actually weren't shown menus (only a drink menu) so we were expecting about $120 all told. But when the bill came, it turned out it was only $30 per person, which seemed really reasonable given the quality and quantity involved. It must have been the lunch price? If this is still beyond your means, how about this place?

#4 "Meat too dry or bland"
I actually couldn't tell from looking at what they were serving whether it would be any good or not until I tasted it. Sirloin that looked over-cooked was incredibly juicy, whereas a piece of porkloin I had that looked great was over-cooked. Luckily, you have seven or eight different meats to choose from, so you should just try them all as they come by and stick with the ones you like. In my case, the the Parmesan-encrusted Pork cubes and the Chicken Legs were excellent, while the Top-Sirloin was great, too. I tried Chicken Hearts for the first time, and thought there were remarkably good for 'innards'. While some meats were a little dry (the sausage, for example), I didn't taste anything that was remotely bland. They are not afraid of the salt here (nor should you be, if you plan to eat here).

#5 "Food Coma"
C'mon, it's all-you-can-eat-meat! I don't think I could do this for dinner - there's no way I'd be able to sleep later. You need a full 8-12 hours to work this one off. The only downer about lunch is that they don't have the grilled shrimp or pineapple that people raved about in the reviews. I'll get around to trying that some day, but for now, a mid-day feast is about all I can probably handle. Also of note was their salad bar, drinks, and hors-d'oerves: R decided on pineapple juice with mint, which was quite nice, while I had the Capinheira - a cocktail of crushed limes, sugar and rum. A bit like a mojito without the mint, or slightly margarita-esque. Quite good, and the sourness is a great way to cut the heaviness of the meat. The salad bar was impressive - lost more than just the regular fodder of lettuce and tomatoes -- they had a lot of great bean dishes, a coconut-fish, standard salad fare, and some nice olives. They also serve these tiny cheese rolls and fried bananas when you sit down that were pretty good.

So the next time you've got a hankerin' for some serious beef/pork/chicken/etc, keep Espetus in mind. For lunch. On a Sunday. At exactly 12:00pm.

Espetus Churrascaria
1686 Market St.
San Francisco, CA 94102
415-552-8792

Here's a nice short post you can chew on, after those previous tomes:

Grasshopper: How can we escape the cold and heat?

Master Tozan: Why not go where there is no cold and heat?

Grasshopper: Is there such a place?

Master Tozan: When cold, be thoroughly cold; when hot, be hot through and through.

Armchair Zen Translation: STFU

Do you remember that great story earlier this year about Stefan M Erickson - the Swedish Entrepreneur that wrecked a Ferrari Enzo on H1 in Malibu?

Of course you do -- because how often does that happen, right? Turns out more often than one might think -- Check out this post on about a Russian poliitician that lost control of his Enzo. According to the post, it was the fourth Enzo in three months to have been totalled by reckless owners. These are 1MM to 1.5MM a pop. But I guess if you're worth 7.1B, that's hardly a rounding-error.

Here's a whole site dedicated to wrecked exotics, called -- oddly enough --
WreckedExotics.com.

We don't feel like writing a haiku, so we're going to let agent Dale Cooper speak for us:

Harry, I'm gonna let you in on a little secret. Every day, once a day, give yourself a present. Don't plan it, don't wait for it, just... let it happen. Could be a new shirt at the men's store, a catnap in your office chair, or... two cups of good, hot, black coffee.

Or it could be... a damn fine cup of frozen yogurt. Yes, we here at WIHYS know this is tantamount to sacrilege, but we just couldn't resist posting about a little present we gave oursleves this evening at the Yumi Yogurt shop down in San Jose. Though generally eschewing any hint of health-consciousness when ordering dessert, we felt like something light, and decided to give it a whirl.

The custard vanilla and Ghiradelli chocolate did not disappoint, and there will likely be several trips back in the near future to investigate other flavors. Creaminess surpassed all but the richest butter-fat content creams I've had, and I suspect that a bit of olive oil and sea-salt on the custard vanilla might pass for copy of the might Strauss soft-serve they dish up at Picco pizza up in Larkspur. Oh yeah, that'll scratch yer itch.

Yumi Yogurt
3787 Stevens Creek Blvd # 102
Santa Clara, CA 95051
(408) 248-3400

It's not the greatest rock song ever. It's not even Zeppelin's best song (IMHO it's not even the best song on that album). To be sure, it's a good song. But the greatest song ever? What are the criteria for making these lists? I can guess it's not "most requested" because *nobody* asks to listen to SWTH.

However, I do tend to see a pattern looking through the songs that make these lists, though:

Stairway to Heaven (8:01)
Freebird (12:38)
Bohemian Rhapsody (6:02)
Light My Fire (7:08)
Hotel California (6:30)
Layla (7:06)
Hey Jude (7:08)
Wont' Get Fooled Again (8:33)
American Pie (8:28)

Kinda like this post.

I see a similar pattern with lists of greatest books:

Ulysses
War and Peace
Gravity's Rainbow
Rememberance of Things Past
Moby Dick (also a loooong Led Zeppelin tune)
The Magic Mountain
The Bible

The GodFather
Lawrence of Arabia
Citizen Kane
Gone with the Wind
Dr. Zhivago
Seven Samurai
Earnest Goes to Camp
2001 Space Odyssey
Apocalypse Now

What's the significance? I don't have a clue, but it sure seems like these songs/books/movies are like the furniture that your parents kept under plastic-wrap for the guests. They aren't used except on special occasions.

I wonder if the top 100 greatest blog posts would also follow this pattern?

If so, I'm thinking this post is definitely a candidate :-)

I was having lunch with an old friend a few months back -- He is still coasting at one of the big companies that I used work for. We decided on tacos from Mi Pueblo on Rengstorff -- which are simply killer, if you've not had them before. But I digress... As we were reminiscing about office politics, promotions, and projects-gone-wild, I began to feel my heart-rate go up and my ears begin to ring. At first I thought it was the carnitas, but then I realized that in the act of recalling my former life, my baser instincts were vying for control of my lizard-brain. Ever aware, my friend quickly responded by dousing me with an ice-cold horchata.

But that chat got me to thinking about how life at a big company is so different from where I am now. That night I plopped down in front of the pc and re-visited the attics of my mind to see if I could recall and capture some of the corporate survival skills I'd learned while working in these big firms. An hour later, I had a long list of "rules" dredged from my years at Apple, AOL, and eBay. In no particular order, here's the first one:

Rule #19: Never walk anywhere empty handed.

When you watch someone walk by with a notebook or a laptop in hand, they could only be headed someplace important, right? But if they're empty handed? He's a slacker -- either headed to the john or out to lunch.

Since the opinions of others are going to shape your success, their perceptions of you in the office are obviously critical. But the larger the company, the fewer chances you're going to have to influence someone's opinion of you. Afterall, everyone is trying to claw their way up management's backside and nobody has the time to stop and consider your contributions. Bottom line: you've got to scrape for any opportunity you can get.

And what better opportunity than randomly circling the hallways? After all, you're not going to make it to the Bigs by stowing away in your cubicle. You've got to get out and make yourself known -- let the others know you've got Moxie(tm)... Your ultimate goal is to put on an exhibition that makes them sit-up and take notice.

The Notebook
So start today by employing the most rudimentary of office staples: the paper notebook. Walk over to the supply cabinet and select a nice, meaty notebook -- one with heft that inspires confidence (always clutching it firmly in your left-hand so you can keep the right available for a gratuitous handshake with management). Now take it for a spin around the building -- nice and easy -- maybe a floor or two. Watch how others perk up and pay attention to your new "can-do" attitude. Now return it to your cube and do another lap or two without it. Feel the difference? You may as well be naked. Now retrieve your notebook and do another few laps to regain your new-gained stature.

The Mobile Phone
Once you've mastered the notebook, it's time to move to the next level by mixing in the mobile phone. Remember, you're doing this for effect (i.e. you're not really talking to anyone), so always keep the handset glued to your ear - no bluetooth or microphone headsets, please. You can hear the boss now: Look at Jones. He's not only on his way to an important meeting... he's *in* a meeting on his way to a meeting. Why haven't I noticed this Jones character before? I like the cut of his jib!"

The Entourage
And while the notebook and phone should be enough to get you kicked-up a peg or two, the real coup-de-gras is staging an entourage. An entourage is the pinnacle of illusory self-importance -- it says to the entire world that you've arrived. And all it takes is convincing a group of your office mates to walk just a half-step behind you as you march down the hallways. It's best to practice with a single wing-man -- preferably in the left-rear position, which keeps him in your opponent's blind-spot, and means the focus is always on you. Then, once you've got this down you can increase the size of your entourage as necessary. Of course, everyone on the team should be equipped with at least a notebook, but extra marks for accessorizing with large rolled-up gantt charts, forecasting graphs, or glossy marketing handouts.

Now you are rolling...

A final caveat -- remember to keep moving at all times. Standing still invites engagement, and nothing is more likely to ruin the effect than dead air. And unless absolutely necessary, avoid the elevator at all costs -- you're captive and everyone knows your mobile phone doesn't work in there.

Oh, and don't forget to get a pedometer -- so you can chart your daily progress to the top of the heap ~

Cool fountain...

You're wondering if it would drain the opposite way if you were in Australia...?

Snopes says "no"

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