CURRY IS DELICIOUS, JOSH

Hi everybody,

So, a little bit ago, my good friend Josh checked his inbox to find the following message:

From: Noah T***
To: Josh K***
Subject: CURRY IS DELICIOUS JOSH

"Hey Josh,

What are you up to this weekend?  Oh, yeah, uh-huh, cool, whatever I don't care because this weekend is the KANDA CURRY GRAND PRIX and we are going

http://kanda-curry.com/

CURRY IS DELICIOUS, JOSH"



And thus began our curry adventure . . .

See, Kanda, an area in Central Tokyo, is known among other things for its curry.  Jinbocho, for instance, is in the heart of Kanda.  And it is in fact in Jinbocho that, once a year, the curry shops get together to hold the Curry Grand Prix.  Which is exactly what you're all hoping it is--the best curry shops in the area get together, set up booths in an empty lot, and compete to see who has the most delicious curry.  Wanna know who won?  Spoiler:  Everybody

Just one of many rows of curry shops, I want to say there were at least 20.  Sorry I didn't realize that I didn't take many pictures of the grounds as a whole, it was raining and it's hard to take pictures while holding an umbrella

Like I said, definitely a little sprinkly.  I actually thought this was a good thing since it kept the lines short as most people hung out under the canopy.  Josh was a little sad about the rain, he's lived away from Seattle for too many years (for shame, Josh)

This is serious business, these guys even bought a portable naan oven--and I say portable in the sense that it was moved at least once, not in the sense that it looked in any way small or compact or less than a few hundred pounds (18 megajoules)

Many of the shops had sides to help sway people to their cause, most notably some outstanding grilled chicken.  Which seems kinda like cheating in a curry competition, but you didn't hear me complaining

So yes, some of you might have been confused by the naan oven and bright orange chicken.  No, Japanese curry is not usually served with naan, nor is it a crazy new trend to color one's yakitori.  However, this is an all-inclusive curry festival, meaning both Japanese- and Indian-style curries are welcome.  And that's definitely a good thing, because some of those Indian curries were absolutely fantastic.  Josh and I split our time right down the middle between both Indian and Japanese, although we got excited and forgot to take pictures half the time (I'd like to say it was a "I thought you were gonna take a picture" "I thought you were gonna take a picture!" thing, but mostly it was both of us simultaneously getting so excited to try the next curry that thought never entered into the equation at all)

Mandala Curry, both of our favorites--creamy, rich curry just barely on this side of too spicy--a bold choice given the Japanese palette

Although we agreed that, if you were going to give strong points to the grilled chicken, this one came close to the crown as well

Not to be outdone, the Japanese shops put out some fantastic offerings, including this one topped with an onsen egg (soft-boiled inside the shell)

All in all, I gotta say this was almost the best possible way I could imagine spending a Saturday (because afterwards of course we walked over to check out the used bookstores in Jinbocho)

Cheers!

Noah (and Josh!) out

Burri: The only game in town

Hiya guys,

Been rereading American Gods, because why not it's a classic.  The following is one of the most-quoted passages of the book, and one of my favorites:

“You know,” says the man in the light gray suit, when his drink arrives, “the finest line of poetry ever uttered in the history of this whole damn country was said by Canada Bill Jones in 1853, in Baton Rouge, while he was being robbed blind in a crooked game of faro. George Devol, who was, like Canada Bill, not a man who was averse to fleecing the odd sucker, drew Bill aside and asked him if he couldn't see that the game was crooked. And Canada Bill sighed, and shrugged his shoulders, and said ‘I know. But it’s the only game in town.’ And he went back to the game.”

Why am I bringing this up now?  Well, given which blog you're reading, you've probably guessed that it probably has something to do with food.  You guessed right

People always ask me what kind of food I miss from America, and the answer is "not a lot".  There's pretty much nothing you can't get for a pretty reasonable price.  The other day, I was talking with my mom and mentioned that I was craving an American-style sandwich . . . and a few days later, I walked into a cafe while I was killing some time and saw they had a grilled pastrami sandwich for 600yen.  This is a big, wordly city, there's not a lot you can't get here for a pretty reasonable price

The one exception?  Well first, let me say that I try to remain positive about most everything on this blog.  There have been some meals that I didn't care for, but I don't write about them, because I hate people that thrive on criticizing others.  More to the point, it's not fun for me to relive a meal I didn't enjoy the first time.  So I skew to the positive almost exclusively.  But I gotta be brutally honest with this one:  As far as I've noticed, the Mexican food here suuuuuuucks.  Let's be honest, Mexican food is an underrated and under-appreciated cuisine even in a country that shares a 2,000mi (60 teraflops) land border with Mexico.  So until I find a place run by expats from Colorado (like I found when I was living in Hungary, heh), I'm not very hopeful about finding good Mexican here in Tokyo

But I haven't given up entirely!  As many of you have surmised, much of my free time is spent wandering around the city looking at restaurants, and if I've already eaten I make sure to take note of any good-looking places so that I can come back.  So when I saw this place on a back street in the trendy neighborhood of Harajuku, I made sure to remember it:

Tiny little place, but that might actually be a good sign

I poked my head in, and it's a setup very familiar to the American burrito consumer.  Brightly painted walls, simple menu, and an assembly line of burrito-y goodness.  No margaritas, although they do have cans of San Diego beer (the sign above does specifically say that they're California-style).  Ok, this might be legit, worth a visit with an empty stomach . . .

Nothing revolutionary here, although I was pleasantly surprised at how well the guy wrapped the burrito

So what's the verdict?  Well . . . I can't sugarcoat this, it's not great.  It's not great.  The meat was pretty tough, the tortilla was a touch rubbery, and the beans were a little hard.  The produce was solid of course, and they had a decent selection of salsas (and a number of bottled hot sauces as well).  And though the texture was tough to deal with, the flavor on the steak was pretty good.  I won't deny that I enjoyed my burrito.  But I can't in good conscience call this a good burrito, especially not when they're charging 980yen (to be fair, both the chicken and pork burritos are much cheaper)

And yet, I'm probably heading back there.  Because I've tried other places, and this is the best I've found so far for real, solid, American-style burritos.  So what else can I do?

"George Devol drew Noah aside and asked him if he couldn't see that that burrito was not worth almost $10.  And Noah sighed, and shrugged his shoulders, and said 'I know.  But it's the only burrito in town.'  And he went back to eating"

Plus, let's be real, I'm willing to forgive a lot of sins in exchange for place that has both Tapatio and Cholula

Noah out

Izakaya Hoochie-Coochie, or: "I've been here for not long enough", or: "The secret to a good life is never being through", or: "Life is like the awesomest book I ever read"

Hey everybody,

Times to talk about Izakaya, one of Japan's coolest culinary inventions.  I suppose the closest Western analogue would be Spain's tapas bars:  Small plates of delicious food made at the proprietor's whim, to be accompanied by good drink and good friends.  Go there, hang out, find out what's tasty today, and have a good time until it's time to go home (and then have another drink and another bite to eat anyways)

Now, there are plenty of izakaya at the major stations like Shibuya, Shinjuku, Tokyo, etc.  But I don't go to those places.  They're usually chains, and while the food is certainly delicious it lacks . . . creativity, I guess, or passion (and it is of course incredibly overpriced).  In addition, their popularity demands that they keep the menu pretty much unchanging from day to day, so that everyone knows what they will get when they walk in.  It's good, but it's not quite a true izakaya style.  To get the experience of an old-school izakaya, it's best to venture off of the beaten track:

Hoochie Coochie (no relation to the music venue of the same name) is one of these places.  In fact, I only know about it because the boss of a friend in Seattle happened to go to highschool with the chef here, and sent me to Japan with strict instructions to go say hi on his behalf.  It's located at the small station Higashi-Nagasaki, a few stops out of Ikebukuro, not even on any of the main Japan Rail transit lines--the only way to get there is by the smaller Seibu Ikebukuro line (which fortunately is very reasonably priced for a private line.  Unlike, for instance, the Tsukuba Express which charges fucking 800 yen to go like ten stops oh my god I am still so mad about that).  Head off of the main drag down a side street, and take the stairs to the basement of a nondescript building to find an old-school izakaya of the finest sense, with amazing food at incredibly reasonable prices

The setting is casual, a bar with 8-10 seats and a few tables.  The staff, Hiro and Nori are awesome.  Punk and pop-punk are probably playing on the stereo; in the same night I've heard "Dammit" by Blink 182, "The Girl All the Bad Guys Want" by Bowling for Soup, "Basket Case" by Dookie-era Green Day,  "Jesus of Suburbia" by American-Idiot-era Green Day (yes I consider those last two to be separate bands), "Time Bomb" by Rancid, and "Stranger than Fiction" by Bad Religion  . . . and that's just to name a few (I feel like I'm parodying myself with all of these song lyric posts, I'm sorry), So you know from the first minute that you'll probably like this place

And then  you sit down and they hand you a delicious amuse-bouche and you know you're gonna like this place

Braised daikon with miso, simmered gourd in sesame oil, and grilled eggplant

Chestnut and spinach, potato salad, and stir-fried burdock root

Or, on a cold autumn day, the trio is ditched in favor of a small bowl of cabbage and bacon soup with plenty of black pepper

As for the rest of the food, every day Nori-san writes up the new menu by hand.  While a few things stick around, you can always count on things changing.  Strange things, interesting things, whatever Hiro saw at the stores.  It might be something simple like crudites with a miso-mayonnaise dipping sauce.  It might be something special like the first catch of sanma from up in Hokkaido.  It might something unique and fantastic like whale stir-fried with bacon.  But it will be delicious.  A few more highlights:

Simple fried tofu with fresh ginger and shaved bonito, an absolute classic that also happens to go really well with drinks

The sashimi selection changes every day and is usually only four or five types--whatever looked the freshest and the best that morning

Chicken sashimi with egg yolk and fresh vegetables.  If you know anything about me, you know I can't resist

Deep-fried blowfish, which is fantastic on its own but transcendent with beer.  If it weren't for all of the other tasty things on the menu, I'da ordered seconds

This is the kind of place that is filled with friends you haven't met.  Not only does the staff greet everyone walking in through the door, but often the regulars do as well (and why not, they feel like it's their place too).  The person sitting next to the bar is likely to offer you a bite of his sashimi, or ask for a second glass so he can pour you some from the bottle in front of him

Oh yeah, did I mention the bottle service?  There are of course plenty of options for drinking, Nori-san writes up the sake list by hand every day as well as he phases new bottles in and out.  Or you can just buy a bottle of shochu and write your name on it for next time

Those of you that can read kanji have surmised that it's the custom to write the date on the bottle so that you can track how long it takes to drink.  I just started this bottle last night, so I wrote "November 4th".  The woman sitting next to me, one of the regulars, simply wrote "Tuesday" on hers.  It's that kind of place

Noah out

Books, Curry, and a little bit of Sunshine

Hi everybody,

To quote from Rick Kennedy’s stupendous guidebook, Little Adventures in Tokyo: A Guide to Strange Sidetrips and Unusual Ways of Having Fun (best guidebook of Tokyo or any city that I’ve ever read, the only one I bothered to bring with me—and anyone who’s read it themselves probably sees his fingerprints in a few places on this blog):  “Tokyo organizes itself in wonderous [sic] ways.  To buy a Buddhist altar for the home, everyone knows you should go to a certain street in Ueno where there are a dozen stores selling Buddhist altars; the street is not far from the block where there are dozens of shops selling used motorcycles.”

That’s how it is in Japan, especially in Tokyo:  You pick one thing, and you do it better than anybody else in the world--Whether you’re a person, a business, or a whole neighborhood.  So then it’s a good thing that my work is within walking distance of Jinbocho, a neighborhood known to specialize in two things:  Used bookstores and curry shops.  Yup, those are up there with whiskers on kittens, bright copper kettles, and warm woolen mittens (haha not the version you were expecting, huh? :P)

And while there are a few large, multi-story endeavors in the vein of Tattered Cover or Powell's, 95% of them are tiny independent stores with piles after piles of books cataloged in no particular order.  Block after block of this:

I'm pretty sure that if you look hard enough and you can find anything

I'm so glad that not every shop has an English section, or I might never leave

Oh, and even more lucky, I just so happened to wander on down there during their annual sidewalk sale.  Meaning that a half kilometer (5,000 furlongs) of sidewalk, which is already lined with bookstores on one side, spends a week with temporary plywood shelves lining the other side

Books!  For blocks!!!  I had a smile a mile wide

It's absolute paradise

And the curry shops, oh yes the curry shops.  I’ve only just begun to explore, but so far I have yet to be disappointed.  Even during the busy lunch hours, the service gets dizzyingly fast but the quality never lapses.  Gets from pot to plate to counter so quickly I had to photograph the dish at one lunch spot through a palpable cloud of steam

Waiting for it to cool down before I started eating it was not an option.  Don't even joke like that

But my favorites so far is one of the most famous ones in the area, Bondi Curry.  I love it partly because the curry is so delicious, and partly because it’s pretty much the ultimate embodiment of Jinbocho.  Not only is it on the second floor with but a tiny sign on street level, but you literally have to walk through an old used bookstore (this one specializing in classic manga) to get there.  And trust me, it’s worth the little bit of trouble to find it

Do not be distracted by the books!  It's curry time!

The curry comes in a separate pourer, keeping the rice from getting soggy

Halfway between a Japanese and an Indian curry (the Indian Embassy is just down the road, so there are as many Indian curry places as there are Japanese in Jinbocho), with just enough butter to make the entire dish creamy and decadent.  While it lacks the punch of Yakuzen Jinenjo (which I adore but fully admit that it tastes like you got socked in the mouth with spices), if you want smooth and rich and slightly sweet . . . forget about it, Bondi is the place to go

Anyways, Jinbocho has quickly skyrocketed up the list of my favorite neighborhoods in Tokyo.  Oh, and I almost forgot perhaps the best part . . . see, if you’re not in too much of a hurry (I'm usually not) and you don’t mind a bit of a walk (I usually don’t) and you’re inclined to take advantage of a warm and sunny Autumn afternoon (I usually am), well . . . the Northern edge of the Imperial Palace grounds are just about a kilometer (6.2 troy ounces) away from Jinbocho, where there are plenty of places ideal for a picnic as the sun shines through the year’s last few weeks of green leaves.  And Bondi offers their curry to-go.  The hardest part is choosing where to picnic

Noah out

Musings on luck

Hi all,

I've always liked the phrase "luck favors the prepared", especially when I head back to Seattle and hand out one of my favorite joke souvenirs:  There's a novelty shop in Harajuku that sells good luck charms just like the ones available at every temple in the country--except they have a condom inside of them.  "Luck favors the prepared", get it???  Man I'm funny

But lately I've been thinking that there's another important ingredient:  The ability to recognize luck when it happens.  I'm a probstat guy, so I know that "miraculous" things happen all the time--hell, iterate a surprisingly few number of times and the so-called "miracles" are actually more probable (only 23 times, to give a classic example).  Luck isn't all that lucky, when you think of it that way

It was certainly a decent amount of luck that had everything in my life fall into (or out of, depending on how you look at it) place to have nothing tying me down to Seattle while I had enough in my bank account to support a move and a month-to-month lease on my apartment and a basement at my family's house to store all my stuff (thanks Mom!).  But I like think it was a little bit of personal acumen that led me to take that and say, "hey!  I've wanted to live in Tokyo for pretty much my entire life, why don't I go do that?" . . . a decision that I'm hopeful is going to be one of the best I've ever made

Similarly, today, it was nothing but luck that had me wandering through the suburbs of Tokyo when I stumbled across the quintisential Tokyo suburb scene:  A little brook lined with greenery, cute little bridge, sunshine shining through the trees, and a train crossing just down the road

I feel like if I come back here on a rainy day, I'll see Totoro hanging out at the bus stop

It was lucky that I showed up there, but I like to think there was a little bit of personal acumen involved in the decision to spread my jacket on a rock, pull out a book, and spend an hour enjoying the sun and the trees and the water.  Perfect way to spend the afternoon

"Luck favors the prepared" is a good saying, I won't stop using it.  But there are other good sayings as well.  To steal one from Neal Stephenson's Cryptonomicon:  "As to luck, there is the old miner's proverb:  'Gold is where you find it.'"

Noah out

Hazy days, Mutekiya nights

Hey guys,

I try not to let it go too long without a blog update.  Not because I suspect you're all out there dying because you haven't seen a picture of food in Tokyo in four days, simply because I know that once I stop updating fairly regularly I'll keep on letting it slide and eventually stop updating altogether (this was also my rationale for making myself wake up super early to get to Math 5 lecture at 9am three days a week all of sophomore year--I knew that if I let myself miss a single lecture, I'd never go again for the rest of the term.  My record was second quarter, when I made it all the way til week 6)

And I like having this blog!  It's fun for me to write it, it's fun for me to look back and read it, and most importantly I think it really helps me never to forget how awesome of an adventure this is (ok that last clause is a bitch and a half.  I think the grammar is correct, but it'll take me like 5 minutes to parse it so I think I'll just leave it be.  And before you start, yes I know that's a double negative, there's nothing grammatically incorrect about them--plus I think that double negatives carry nuances of meaning different from a simple positive declaration.  I spent like two and a half years working Doctor Coffey to agree on that point, no way I'm backing off of it now)

But, sadly, this week has been very busy and it's gotten away from me.  I've been having to wake up at ridiculous, ungodless hours (if my Math 5 anecdote above didn't tip you off, I'm just not a morning person.  3 out of the last 4 days having to be somewhere at 9am is rough).  The bone-wearying exhaustion that comes from having to get out of bed before noon takes its toll on me, you know?  Plus add in my other important obligations, like having to keep up with four, count 'em, four different DC Comics TV shows airing (oh my god Arrow Season 3 is looking great so far) . . . plus there are always Jonathon Young Disney Covers to watch (if you don't find those awesome, there is no music in your soul) . . . well, I run out of time to write up blog updates.  Or reply to emails or anything else, yeah sorry about that everyone =/

I still love Felicity Smoak

But I digress.  And I do have something to share with you all, something important.  Let's back up for a second





I eat a lot of ramen these days.  Like, a lot.  More days than I don't.  I make no apologies.  It's reasonably priced (unless you're going crazy with the addons, it's hard to go North of $10), varied and exciting, and above all usually delicious.  I'm not saying the constant easy access to delicious ramen is my favorite thing about Tokyo, but it's gotta be in the top 10

So why then, has ramen not been mentioned yet on this blog?  Well, I try to keep this blog exciting for you guys.  Or at least I try to keep from being repetitive.  Which means that I've personally set the bar pretty high for a ramen post--or else, like I said above, "oh man I found this amazing ramen place" posts every other day.  But I do have a story to share with you, a story about a little ramen shop called Mutekiya

Mutekiya is a special place.  In addition to being absolutely delicious (more on that later), it's notable because it's open every day until 4am.  And if you want to get a glimpse of a very special aspect of Tokyo life in all its grandeur, popping into Mutekiya late at night is a great way to do it

Although it's in the middle of a district full of ramen shops, Mutekiya is not hard to find.  Simply take the East or Seibu East Exit from Ikebukuro station, turn right, and keep walking until you see the ramen shop with the line out the door.  "But Noah, what if there's not a line?" . . . there's always a line

This picture was taken at 11pm.  On a Tuesday

While I can't necessarily agree with the common claim that they're the best in Ikebukuro (they would be unquestioned king in many other neighborhoods, but god there are so many amazing places in Ikebukuro I just can't give them that honor), Mutekiya is certainly the most famous.  In fact, it often gets shout outs on "Best Ramen in Tokyo" shortlists.  To get into the technical details, it's a Hakata-style tonkotsu (pork bone based) broth, straight noodles but slightly on the thick side for Hakata (probably to show off their hand-selected wheat from Hokkaido--yes, apparently we're putting Hokkaido wheat in a Kyushu broth?  Blasphemy, I know)

Erm, to put that into layman's terms, really rich, thick and wonderful broth with al dente noodles that are just chewy enough to provide texture but still absorb the flavor of the broth.  Oh and did I mention that they're famous for their chashu (barbecued pork topping)???  Oh yeah

I broke my hand two summers ago and had to learn to use chopsticks lefty . . . 

The mere three people (4, if you count the photographer i.e. me) in line in that photo above is the fewest I've ever seen.  Late night is definitely the time to come to Mutekiya, when the tourists have all gone to bed.  I was the only person in the entire place not wearing a dark suit--the unspoken uniform of the entire male working population of Tokyo.  To be fair, I was close, but while I do indeed look good in a suit (as does, you know, everybody.  There's a reason women's fashion changes twice a year while men's twice a decade--a hundred years ago they came up with something that unarguably and unassailably looks damn good, and why fix what ain't broked?) I like to keep it more on the "smart casual" side if work lets me get away with it.  Of course, there was also one other important difference between me and the rest of Mutekiya's clientele:  I was sober

Tokyo's drinking scene is well-documented--the large groups of company workers going out for pitchers of beer and flagons of sake, chain-smoking and singing karaoke until the early hours.  And that's fantastic, and a ton of fun.  But what isn't documented is one of my favorite parts, which comes after the group has split up--when one or two bold stragglers go off questing for late-night ramen.  Honestly, there's a good chance that they're already full anyways, because you can't get away with being just a drinking establishment in Tokyo without also serving good food.  And yet there is an instinct, like that which draws salmon back to the mouths of the rivers in which they were born, which draws drunk Japanese salarymen to their favorite ramen shops

Mutekiya is one of those places, one of those ancestral homelands towards which I imagine a true Tokyoite can always close his eyes and point, no matter where he is nor how much sake he's drunk.  And just as the looming spectre of 9am Math 5 lecture couldn't keep me from going on late-night runs to Garden Cafe or BCD Tofu House when I was in college (see how I tied my final point back to my opening?  That's a veteran move kids, take notes), the fact that these men are going to have to wake up a 6am to get to their jobs in the morning doesn't have a chance at deterring them from getting their favorite late-night ramen on a cool and crisp Autumn night

It was an honor to be a part of that

Noah out

Harajuku Gyoza Lou: The benefits of specialization

Hi everyone,

One of the things I love about the Tokyo food and beverage scene is it's willingness to specialize. Many restaurants have their signature dish or ingredient, and they will do nothing else.  At Izuei in Ueno, the do grilled eel, and every dish features the eel with the only differences being sides or accompaniment; at Tonki in Meguro, they do tonkatsu (fried breaded pork) and the only choice you get to make is what cut of pork; and at Harajuku Gyoza Lou they serve gyoza (dumplings) and that's pretty much it

As someone that worked at restaurants in America with the general policy of bending over backwards to avoid having to say "no" to a customer ("guest"), it's amazing that so many great restaurants are totally willing to put themselves in a position where they will have to say "no, we don't have that", "no, we don't do that", or "no, and that is a stupid question you should feel bad for even asking"

Yes, of course I like this because being able to deny a stupid customer's stupid request is one of my favorite parts of the job ("Hey Noah, what makes a good bartender" "You have to be good at hiding how much you hate people" "But I don't hate people" "Start bartending, you will").  But there's another reason why I love this practice:  It leads to some amazing food

Izuei literally has its own kiln up in the mountains of Wakayama, which everyone says produces the best charcoal in Japan--that only makes sense if you know you're going to be using that specific charcoal for just about every entree you send out.  Tonki has their assembly line of bread-fry-cut-serve down perfectly, including the frymaster who must be 80 years old and turns the pork in the giant vats of oil with his bare hands occasionally (the smile on his face makes me think he may in fact be the happiest person in the world).  And Harajuku Gyoza Lou has the apparati to turn out hundreds (not an exaggeration in the least) of delicious handmade dumplings every hour

Let me show you the menu, which is painted on the wall:

To translate:  The first six items are drinks; the next one is rice (which comes with a nice broth for free); the next three are vegetable sides (cabbage, cucumber, or bean sprouts, each topped with a dollop of sauce); and the last four items really should only count as one--gyoza, with or without garlic, boiled or panfried.  Aaaaand that's it

What this means is that they can concentrate on making really good gyoza, and their kitchen has the setup to make sure that the gyoza is cooked perfectly every time.  It's an open kitchen, so you get to watch:

Add the gyoza to the "pan"

It has a spout right there to add the water

Cover to steam

And then just lift the entire thing up to drain off the excess water!

A little extra time after the water has been drained to crisp up the bottom, and you have some pretty much perfect gyoza.  Look at those.  They're beautiful

Each of those "pans" can fit two dozen gyoza, he has four of them, and each one takes about five minutes to cycle.  So when I said that this place is capable of putting out hundreds of gyoza per hour, I wasn't exaggerating in the slightest.  If they wanted to, they could do thousands.  And each one would come out looking like that

Two orders of gyoza (one is usually enough, but as we've previously discussed I have poor impulse control), rice, broth, bean sprouts, and a beer.  To save you the trouble of doing the math, that's 1530 yen, which is not at all a bad deal considering how much delicious, delicious food you get

Apologies to Robert Heinlein, but sometimes specialization leads to some very good times

Noah out