Jak and I are headed to our first West Michigan Whitecaps game tonight!
The Whitecaps are a single-A affiliate of the Tigers, and the park is only about fifteen minutes away. Tonight, they're playing the Lansing Lugnuts--the name was cute when the team was first named in the mid-'90s but at this point, after the closing of the Oldsmobile plant up the street and the virtual death of the auto industry in Lansing, it's more just ironic and sad. Incidentally, the Lugnuts started out as a Cubs affiliate, which meant that Jak got to watch Mark Prior do some rehab there after getting hit by a line drive off Brad Hawpe, but they're now associated with the Blue Jays.
It'll be nice to get outside, do something Grand Rapids-y, and hopefully get myself out of the funk that's been in my brain since Sunday.
Tuesday, April 28, 2009
Monday, April 27, 2009
This is why
I'm really frustrated with this kind of attitude. As a matter of fact, I'm loathe to even link to the blog because i don't want to provide this person with hits.
Unless, you know, it's God's will that she get her face bashed in. That kind of hits.
Unless, you know, it's God's will that she get her face bashed in. That kind of hits.
Thursday, April 23, 2009
A moment of head-desk.
I'm being a seriously girly-girl right now, except since I don't have girlfriends in Grand Rapids, I just have to do it by myself.
So this is me, right now: drinking a Torpedo IPA, watching really terrible TV on demand, half-watching my phone for Jak texts, and alternately stalking meebo, the 311 bulletin board, and Facebook waiting for something interesting to happen. And doing the Friday New York Times crossword puzzle.
Let's face it: I'm not that great at crosswords. I can usually get through Monday through Wednesday without much trouble. Thursday and Friday give me some trouble, and Saturdays are usually well beyond my ability. But given that when I started doing these, I could barely get through a Tuesday without Googling at least a couple answers, I feel like I'm making some progress.
(A necessary, but seemingly abstract note: For years, people have asked me what my grandmother was doing during World War Two. This is due mostly to two things: she married my grandfather, an immigrant-turned-Army captain, just after the war; and her name happens to be Enola Gay.
That is, she has the same name as the bomber that dropped the atom bomb on Hiroshima.
It's sort of a family joke at this point, but when people find out.... yeah, curiosity. And for damn sure, I don't forget her name.)
Tonight's effort at the Friday puzzle (fyi: puzzles are usually posted at 10pm Eastern for the next day) was just brutal. It took hours. Of staring. Googling. Tearing my brainstem from its metaphorical roots, it seemed, had no effect whatsoever. SUSANDEY. ONTHELAM. UCIRVINE??? EROICA, clued as "It was first publicly performed in Vienna in 1805"???
I got through the NE, mostly, struggling finally with GUANACOS (really? that's a word?) and the exact instant it fell, (and it was the O that held me up! Fucking vowels) I looked at the eight-letter space where that O fell, clued as "Carrier of very destructive cargo," and finally I see the way out of the puzzle:
My grandmother's name. Enola Gay. Eight letters: Carrier of very destructive cargo.
Seriously? Seriously???
I want to go hide now for not seeing this.
Anyway, I'm off for more girly TV, maybe another beer, and eventually yet another night of dealing with spasms and muscle cramping in my back that's kept me on a heating pad in the spare room bed (it's a firmer mattress, which helps) and eating Vicodin and muscle relaxants for the last few days.
(also, I desperately need a haircut... trim, really. It's finally to my waist again, which makes me incredibly happy, but the ends are really dry and frayed. And I keep pulling little grey strands out. roar.)
So this is me, right now: drinking a Torpedo IPA, watching really terrible TV on demand, half-watching my phone for Jak texts, and alternately stalking meebo, the 311 bulletin board, and Facebook waiting for something interesting to happen. And doing the Friday New York Times crossword puzzle.
Let's face it: I'm not that great at crosswords. I can usually get through Monday through Wednesday without much trouble. Thursday and Friday give me some trouble, and Saturdays are usually well beyond my ability. But given that when I started doing these, I could barely get through a Tuesday without Googling at least a couple answers, I feel like I'm making some progress.
(A necessary, but seemingly abstract note: For years, people have asked me what my grandmother was doing during World War Two. This is due mostly to two things: she married my grandfather, an immigrant-turned-Army captain, just after the war; and her name happens to be Enola Gay.
That is, she has the same name as the bomber that dropped the atom bomb on Hiroshima.
It's sort of a family joke at this point, but when people find out.... yeah, curiosity. And for damn sure, I don't forget her name.)
Tonight's effort at the Friday puzzle (fyi: puzzles are usually posted at 10pm Eastern for the next day) was just brutal. It took hours. Of staring. Googling. Tearing my brainstem from its metaphorical roots, it seemed, had no effect whatsoever. SUSANDEY. ONTHELAM. UCIRVINE??? EROICA, clued as "It was first publicly performed in Vienna in 1805"???
I got through the NE, mostly, struggling finally with GUANACOS (really? that's a word?) and the exact instant it fell, (and it was the O that held me up! Fucking vowels) I looked at the eight-letter space where that O fell, clued as "Carrier of very destructive cargo," and finally I see the way out of the puzzle:
My grandmother's name. Enola Gay. Eight letters: Carrier of very destructive cargo.
Seriously? Seriously???
I want to go hide now for not seeing this.
Anyway, I'm off for more girly TV, maybe another beer, and eventually yet another night of dealing with spasms and muscle cramping in my back that's kept me on a heating pad in the spare room bed (it's a firmer mattress, which helps) and eating Vicodin and muscle relaxants for the last few days.
(also, I desperately need a haircut... trim, really. It's finally to my waist again, which makes me incredibly happy, but the ends are really dry and frayed. And I keep pulling little grey strands out. roar.)
Wednesday, April 22, 2009
This is why I love bleedcubbieblue.com
Yep. All your base are belong to us.
I wish I could say that I watched a great game last night--alas, due to a strong dose of Vicodin and muscle relaxant, I was passed out by 8:30pm. I woke up briefly in the fifth (just long enough to watch us strand yet more runners) but yeah, that was about it. Slept till 10am today. It apparently helped, as my back feels slightly better--ie, I am able to move somewhat normally and may be able to get in and out of my car without looking like I need help. Which is good, because I'm working tonight. Ehn.
Yesterday was fun only because after I took the Vicodin, I had to go to a job interview. It went really well (despite my intense medicinal goofiness), in the short version, and I'm going to meet with the owner on Thursday.
New restaurant opening in Grand Rapids, soon-ish? The Electric Cheetah looks interesting and fun--sort of like the Green Well, where I applied a few months ago and interviewed at the beginning of February (actually the same day we signed our lease for the Friendly Confines). The interview was pretty much an epic fail, but that's sort of irrelevant now. Obviously, Electric Cheetah isn't open yet, but I like the theme behind it: local, organic, scratch, neighborhood-involved, and best of all, in a town where there seemingly aren't any independent restaurants that aren't part of a "group," these guys just have one place and want to do it right. So, even with fruit sushi, they might have a shot. I get the feeling more and more that West-Michiganders are looking for independence in their food. Or maybe I'm just pissed off that there aren't more choices--seems like everywhere we go, we find out it's a Gilmore, or Mission, or Essence.... etc etc etc.
Other news--Founders Brewery, the home of the house favorite Red's RyePA, has a new beer on draft that I'd love to try--Pepper Pale Ale. I can't find anything about it, not even on the Founders site--any help or recommendations welcome!
Hopefully tonight I'll be non-medicated enough to drink the Left Hand Brewing Company Milk Stout that's been in the fridge for a couple days, and to help Jak finish that growler of Red's that we were supposed to drink night before last. Turns out that not eating all day, and then drinking high-alcohol beers all night, isn't a good idea.
I wish I could say that I watched a great game last night--alas, due to a strong dose of Vicodin and muscle relaxant, I was passed out by 8:30pm. I woke up briefly in the fifth (just long enough to watch us strand yet more runners) but yeah, that was about it. Slept till 10am today. It apparently helped, as my back feels slightly better--ie, I am able to move somewhat normally and may be able to get in and out of my car without looking like I need help. Which is good, because I'm working tonight. Ehn.
Yesterday was fun only because after I took the Vicodin, I had to go to a job interview. It went really well (despite my intense medicinal goofiness), in the short version, and I'm going to meet with the owner on Thursday.
New restaurant opening in Grand Rapids, soon-ish? The Electric Cheetah looks interesting and fun--sort of like the Green Well, where I applied a few months ago and interviewed at the beginning of February (actually the same day we signed our lease for the Friendly Confines). The interview was pretty much an epic fail, but that's sort of irrelevant now. Obviously, Electric Cheetah isn't open yet, but I like the theme behind it: local, organic, scratch, neighborhood-involved, and best of all, in a town where there seemingly aren't any independent restaurants that aren't part of a "group," these guys just have one place and want to do it right. So, even with fruit sushi, they might have a shot. I get the feeling more and more that West-Michiganders are looking for independence in their food. Or maybe I'm just pissed off that there aren't more choices--seems like everywhere we go, we find out it's a Gilmore, or Mission, or Essence.... etc etc etc.
Other news--Founders Brewery, the home of the house favorite Red's RyePA, has a new beer on draft that I'd love to try--Pepper Pale Ale. I can't find anything about it, not even on the Founders site--any help or recommendations welcome!
Hopefully tonight I'll be non-medicated enough to drink the Left Hand Brewing Company Milk Stout that's been in the fridge for a couple days, and to help Jak finish that growler of Red's that we were supposed to drink night before last. Turns out that not eating all day, and then drinking high-alcohol beers all night, isn't a good idea.
Monday, April 20, 2009
One more for today
Eat local. Eat organic.
Food for Thought, an amazing company located in Honor, Michigan (about ten miles south of my mother's house) posted a link today on Facebook to a really fantastic article on the carbon impact of the food we eat, along with some not-always-discussed factors and variables on the subject. For instance, is it better to eat a locally grown hothouse tomato or one that's field-grown a thousand miles away? Somewhat surprisingly, the energy consumed in heating a greenhouse in a northern climate might well exceed the energy consumed in transporting one from a field.
The article is here for your enjoyment and pleasure. Happy reading!
Food for Thought, an amazing company located in Honor, Michigan (about ten miles south of my mother's house) posted a link today on Facebook to a really fantastic article on the carbon impact of the food we eat, along with some not-always-discussed factors and variables on the subject. For instance, is it better to eat a locally grown hothouse tomato or one that's field-grown a thousand miles away? Somewhat surprisingly, the energy consumed in heating a greenhouse in a northern climate might well exceed the energy consumed in transporting one from a field.
The article is here for your enjoyment and pleasure. Happy reading!
Cubs highlights from the week...
- Reed Johnson's spectacular catch, robbing Prince Fielder of a game-tying grand slam. Jak's words: "I want to touch Reed's johnson." I was watching at home, alone, YELLING.
- Aramis Ramirez hitting a game-winning home run in the eleventh inning vs. the Cardinals
- Angel Guzman tallying his first win in the big leagues--good man!
- Teddy Rose (that's Ted Lilly, for future reference) taking a no-no into the seventh--during the home opener, no less!
- Alfonso Soriano's go-ahead two-run shot vs. the Cardinals. He's got five homers and nine RBIs already this season, and, most tellingly, he's already taken eight walks.
- Kosuke Fukudome, after a rough second half last year (really, that's putting it mildly) is hitting the shit out of the ball this year. He's slugging .750 and hitting .375 so far in 2009, and is displaying the corkscrew swing much, much less frequently. Thank God.
Cubs posts forthcoming:
*Extravaganza 2009 (look for this in late June/early July, after our bender at Comerica vs. Tigers)
*Why Jak's love for the Cubs rubbing off onto me is sort of like abuse
*Why baseball? Why now?
*Single-A ball: West Michigan vs Peoria
I've posted this video before, but it's so damn funny. If you're a Cubs fan, it's bloody hilarious.
Zero to two
I have a job interview this week!
My current serving job is, well, not so great. The place is one that I frequented during college--my mom would occasionally drive the 40 minutes to campus and we'd jaunt a couple of miles down the road and get a bite to eat there. At that point, in my recollection, it was a really lovely place--the food and service were always great, and even though there was sometimes a wait (especially in the spring and fall, since it's on a smallish lake and therefore very much a Summer Place) it was always worthwhile.
Right now, I wouldn't necessarily recommend it. It's always busy, true; the food is decent still; and the service is passable. But no one really cares, and it shows.
A lot of the current servers were there in 2000-02, when it was our favorite place, and they've confirmed my impression that it's gone downhill. After two years of working at the Roadhouse, there are certain things that I don't feel the need to cut corners on. One of the big ones, since I'm a carb fiend, is the bread. It's really difficult to bake your own bread at a restaurant (trust me on this; my mother did it for years, mostly by herself, and was also baking for a few other restaurants at the same time. It is BRUTAL) but in almost every town, there are fantastic bakeries putting out really nice, crusty bread. They're not all artisan bakeries, for sure, but there's just got to be a better option than shitty foccacia. The current job switched from a decent proof-and-bake loaf to a really crap one right after I started there, and to quote my old boss and mentor, you really can taste the difference. It's squashy, with zero crust, no flavor beyond yeast and cheap herbs and whatever was in the oven right beforehand. The restaurant made this switch to save about fifty cents per loaf.
Problem is, the old bread was somewhat legendary. People loved it. I got more compliments on the bread than anything else I served there before the switch. Now, I'm bringing more and more of it back to the kitchen. In purely practical terms, too, this new loaf isn't cutting it. It dries out so fast in the warmer that once the loaf is sliced, we have maybe thirty minutes to use the rest of it before it's inedible. And we can't not keep it in the warmer, because once it's cold it's inedible.
If it was just the bread, it maybe wouldn't be so bad. But that's a whole other set of issues. From ticket times to service standards to staffing to management, and not even getting into the kitchen itself--generally speaking, entrees for a table of four will come out over a span of ten to fifteen minutes, so if you start running food as soon as it's up, the first person could easily be done eating by the time the last person gets their plate; or worse yet, the first plate sits under a hot lamp and dries out for x minutes while everything else gets plated (or in some cases, cooked). Bad.
Anyway, getting back to the interview. I claimed, when moving, to really only want a job where I could sling beer and yell at people, and not worry about the service or anything like that. Turns out it isn't true, exactly. It's been so ingrained that cost-cutting for the sake of cost-cutting doesn't always work like you plan out (this bread, for instance; we have the same par for slices-per-person [that is, we would if we had a par for anything] but we're bringing so much back to the kitchen uneaten, compared to the old bread, that I'm sure we aren't really saving any money. Good work, management!) and that taking more tables just to have the potential of making more money doesn't always work out (spending more time with each table tends to up the tip percentage, and that works well at the end of the night--plus it's immensely less stressful), and I've turned out to miss my old job terribly. Weird relationships, scheduling issues and all. I even signed on to work a wedding through them in June, just because I miss it. Who would have thought....
I haven't had coffee yet. Apologies for the rambling.
This coming interview was set up, more or less, by my old bar manager. He used to own a brewery on this side of the state, but quit, and came to work at the Roadhouse. We talked about a beer a lot, and while his management skills weren't my absolute favorite (though they've apparently improved dramatically since I left) we ended on great terms. He gave me a list of places to apply and told me to name-drop at will--he is a fantastic reference over here. One of the better options on the list was Hopcat, a new-ish, up-and-coming beer bar in downtown Grand Rapids. Turns out, while the GM wasn't looking to hire anyone right away, my old manager had sent him a text message or five regarding me, and my old roommate is a server there--so he was interested. I didn't hear back from him for almost a month, and in the meantime, I got the job I have now (with the giant caveat that I'd be picking up a second job ASAP).
Finally, on Saturday morning, my phone rang. It was very early and I was massively hungover, so I didn't get the message immediately, but my interview is set up for 2:30 tomorrow afternoon. And I do think that this place would be a positive change of pace, in contrast to the very negative one I've been dealing with for the last month or so. So, keep your fingers crossed.
What I've been planning is to work two jobs all summer. College is expensive, and rent and the like. Two jobs means all my income from one goes into the savings account, and income from the other goes toward those pesky expenses like rent and food. And beer. Plus I won't have the time, or energy, to go out and spend money. All-around win. Yes, it will be stressful, but I've done the two-jobs-for-the-summer thing kind of a lot. I figured out how to make it work in my favor. Here's hoping both places go for it....
My current serving job is, well, not so great. The place is one that I frequented during college--my mom would occasionally drive the 40 minutes to campus and we'd jaunt a couple of miles down the road and get a bite to eat there. At that point, in my recollection, it was a really lovely place--the food and service were always great, and even though there was sometimes a wait (especially in the spring and fall, since it's on a smallish lake and therefore very much a Summer Place) it was always worthwhile.
Right now, I wouldn't necessarily recommend it. It's always busy, true; the food is decent still; and the service is passable. But no one really cares, and it shows.
A lot of the current servers were there in 2000-02, when it was our favorite place, and they've confirmed my impression that it's gone downhill. After two years of working at the Roadhouse, there are certain things that I don't feel the need to cut corners on. One of the big ones, since I'm a carb fiend, is the bread. It's really difficult to bake your own bread at a restaurant (trust me on this; my mother did it for years, mostly by herself, and was also baking for a few other restaurants at the same time. It is BRUTAL) but in almost every town, there are fantastic bakeries putting out really nice, crusty bread. They're not all artisan bakeries, for sure, but there's just got to be a better option than shitty foccacia. The current job switched from a decent proof-and-bake loaf to a really crap one right after I started there, and to quote my old boss and mentor, you really can taste the difference. It's squashy, with zero crust, no flavor beyond yeast and cheap herbs and whatever was in the oven right beforehand. The restaurant made this switch to save about fifty cents per loaf.
Problem is, the old bread was somewhat legendary. People loved it. I got more compliments on the bread than anything else I served there before the switch. Now, I'm bringing more and more of it back to the kitchen. In purely practical terms, too, this new loaf isn't cutting it. It dries out so fast in the warmer that once the loaf is sliced, we have maybe thirty minutes to use the rest of it before it's inedible. And we can't not keep it in the warmer, because once it's cold it's inedible.
If it was just the bread, it maybe wouldn't be so bad. But that's a whole other set of issues. From ticket times to service standards to staffing to management, and not even getting into the kitchen itself--generally speaking, entrees for a table of four will come out over a span of ten to fifteen minutes, so if you start running food as soon as it's up, the first person could easily be done eating by the time the last person gets their plate; or worse yet, the first plate sits under a hot lamp and dries out for x minutes while everything else gets plated (or in some cases, cooked). Bad.
Anyway, getting back to the interview. I claimed, when moving, to really only want a job where I could sling beer and yell at people, and not worry about the service or anything like that. Turns out it isn't true, exactly. It's been so ingrained that cost-cutting for the sake of cost-cutting doesn't always work like you plan out (this bread, for instance; we have the same par for slices-per-person [that is, we would if we had a par for anything] but we're bringing so much back to the kitchen uneaten, compared to the old bread, that I'm sure we aren't really saving any money. Good work, management!) and that taking more tables just to have the potential of making more money doesn't always work out (spending more time with each table tends to up the tip percentage, and that works well at the end of the night--plus it's immensely less stressful), and I've turned out to miss my old job terribly. Weird relationships, scheduling issues and all. I even signed on to work a wedding through them in June, just because I miss it. Who would have thought....
I haven't had coffee yet. Apologies for the rambling.
This coming interview was set up, more or less, by my old bar manager. He used to own a brewery on this side of the state, but quit, and came to work at the Roadhouse. We talked about a beer a lot, and while his management skills weren't my absolute favorite (though they've apparently improved dramatically since I left) we ended on great terms. He gave me a list of places to apply and told me to name-drop at will--he is a fantastic reference over here. One of the better options on the list was Hopcat, a new-ish, up-and-coming beer bar in downtown Grand Rapids. Turns out, while the GM wasn't looking to hire anyone right away, my old manager had sent him a text message or five regarding me, and my old roommate is a server there--so he was interested. I didn't hear back from him for almost a month, and in the meantime, I got the job I have now (with the giant caveat that I'd be picking up a second job ASAP).
Finally, on Saturday morning, my phone rang. It was very early and I was massively hungover, so I didn't get the message immediately, but my interview is set up for 2:30 tomorrow afternoon. And I do think that this place would be a positive change of pace, in contrast to the very negative one I've been dealing with for the last month or so. So, keep your fingers crossed.
What I've been planning is to work two jobs all summer. College is expensive, and rent and the like. Two jobs means all my income from one goes into the savings account, and income from the other goes toward those pesky expenses like rent and food. And beer. Plus I won't have the time, or energy, to go out and spend money. All-around win. Yes, it will be stressful, but I've done the two-jobs-for-the-summer thing kind of a lot. I figured out how to make it work in my favor. Here's hoping both places go for it....
Wednesday, April 15, 2009
I started a new blog.
Here it is!
I've been using my Livejournal since... forever, it seems like. The archive tells me that I started writing in it on April 25, 2002. I'll continue to use it, probably, for more personal stuff, but we'll see. I started a Myspace blog back in the day too, and almost quit using LJ for a long, long time while I was writing in that. It's not important and I'm rambling.
I'm calling this a new beginning.
The last few months have been, in perspective, all about leaving the past behind and moving forward. Hell, the last few years have been. I've been leaving the past behind since 2002. The day I decided not to go back for my last year of school was the day I changed my future. I was on the track, you know? THE TRACK. I decided it wasn't what I wanted and it changed. Poof. And then... one thing leads to another, and suddenly I'm in Ann Arbor thinking about wine. Poof. Suddenly I'm thinking that writing about food is what I want to do. Poof. The growth pattern is much more like a bonsai (not stunted--deliberate, and crinkly, and multidirectional) than a straight, lovely oak. That's a good thing. Oaks have their place, but bonsai are so intricate and interesting. Oaks live without interference. I live reacting. Is that a good thing? Time will tell. Bonsai can live an exceptionally long time, with careful tending. Oaks can too. Bonsai need interaction; oaks live alone... Oaks are strong; bonsai are delicate.
My own bonsai led me from the initial straight-and-narrow, college-grad school-professional career path into food.
Right, straight (crookedly) into food.
It would be funny if it wasn't quite so ironic. I vowed early on to never be in this business. It's stressful. The hours are long and--we like to say "flexible" but what that really means is "erratic." Unplannable. No benefits, no paid time off unless you work for a corporation and are in management. Tax screw-overs. Family life, sleep, a "normal" social life involving, for me, things like theater and (sigh of longing) book clubs are out of the question. This is how I make my living. I work nights and weekends. And as much as I banned myself from it in 1999, and as happy as my parents were when I had a normal, 9-to-5 job with health insurance and a 401k, it's what I do and it's what I love.
And then I had a thought--I sort of love words, and sometimes have the ability to put them in order well. And I love food and beer and wine and liquor, so why not put words in order about it? Why not work for Ari and learn how to do it? So I did. And that brings me to now.
This isn't even where I wanted to go with this post. I wanted to talk about something completely different and now this is way, way too long.
The plan was to write about how I just finished reading my first complete graphic novel and I think I'm probably spoiled for life.
WATCHMEN.
I haven't seen the movie. After reading it, I'm not entirely sure I want to.
On that note, I'm going to wrap this up for tonight. I wrote entirely too much. Words occasionally just.... go staright form my subconscious to the keyboard and my brain has little, if anything, to do with it. I fear this is the case today.
Coming in future entries:
Beer, and why Founder's makes some delicious ones
Bread, and why changing your restaurant's bread to save $.50/loaf isn't a good idea
Fermentation, and how it is wildly interesting and relevant
Meat: how we get it and why we eat so damn much of it
Cake: Theories and non-technique
Food as love--I am not Emeril
Brushes with greatness, AKA self-aggrandizing 101.
Good night.
I've been using my Livejournal since... forever, it seems like. The archive tells me that I started writing in it on April 25, 2002. I'll continue to use it, probably, for more personal stuff, but we'll see. I started a Myspace blog back in the day too, and almost quit using LJ for a long, long time while I was writing in that. It's not important and I'm rambling.
I'm calling this a new beginning.
The last few months have been, in perspective, all about leaving the past behind and moving forward. Hell, the last few years have been. I've been leaving the past behind since 2002. The day I decided not to go back for my last year of school was the day I changed my future. I was on the track, you know? THE TRACK. I decided it wasn't what I wanted and it changed. Poof. And then... one thing leads to another, and suddenly I'm in Ann Arbor thinking about wine. Poof. Suddenly I'm thinking that writing about food is what I want to do. Poof. The growth pattern is much more like a bonsai (not stunted--deliberate, and crinkly, and multidirectional) than a straight, lovely oak. That's a good thing. Oaks have their place, but bonsai are so intricate and interesting. Oaks live without interference. I live reacting. Is that a good thing? Time will tell. Bonsai can live an exceptionally long time, with careful tending. Oaks can too. Bonsai need interaction; oaks live alone... Oaks are strong; bonsai are delicate.
My own bonsai led me from the initial straight-and-narrow, college-grad school-professional career path into food.
Right, straight (crookedly) into food.
It would be funny if it wasn't quite so ironic. I vowed early on to never be in this business. It's stressful. The hours are long and--we like to say "flexible" but what that really means is "erratic." Unplannable. No benefits, no paid time off unless you work for a corporation and are in management. Tax screw-overs. Family life, sleep, a "normal" social life involving, for me, things like theater and (sigh of longing) book clubs are out of the question. This is how I make my living. I work nights and weekends. And as much as I banned myself from it in 1999, and as happy as my parents were when I had a normal, 9-to-5 job with health insurance and a 401k, it's what I do and it's what I love.
And then I had a thought--I sort of love words, and sometimes have the ability to put them in order well. And I love food and beer and wine and liquor, so why not put words in order about it? Why not work for Ari and learn how to do it? So I did. And that brings me to now.
This isn't even where I wanted to go with this post. I wanted to talk about something completely different and now this is way, way too long.
The plan was to write about how I just finished reading my first complete graphic novel and I think I'm probably spoiled for life.
WATCHMEN.
I haven't seen the movie. After reading it, I'm not entirely sure I want to.
On that note, I'm going to wrap this up for tonight. I wrote entirely too much. Words occasionally just.... go staright form my subconscious to the keyboard and my brain has little, if anything, to do with it. I fear this is the case today.
Coming in future entries:
Beer, and why Founder's makes some delicious ones
Bread, and why changing your restaurant's bread to save $.50/loaf isn't a good idea
Fermentation, and how it is wildly interesting and relevant
Meat: how we get it and why we eat so damn much of it
Cake: Theories and non-technique
Food as love--I am not Emeril
Brushes with greatness, AKA self-aggrandizing 101.
Good night.
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