Ooooh. I'm excited. Exhausted but excited. It was a crazy crazy shift @ the restaurant cooking... 199 people---not quite as close to the 246 we served on Mother's Day, but pretty ridiculous none the less.
So what would I do with myself after a draining 9 hour shift??
Come home and cook of course :o) I am a NERD.
Anyways---last Monday I ate lunch at Quang's Vietnamese in Minneapolis with friends.... I had a spectacular bowl of Pho. It was inspirational...amazing. Mouth Watering.
So I came up with my own rendition of it this evening.... ooo baby ooo baby! :o)
Very pleased with myself .... :o)
Sunday, May 17, 2009
Monday, May 11, 2009
ADIOS!
a very much deserved day of vacation.....
destination: center of the universe ....... minneapolis.
sushi sushi sushi ----- Shopping! market, adventures, AK reunion!
T minus 6 hours!
destination: center of the universe ....... minneapolis.
sushi sushi sushi ----- Shopping! market, adventures, AK reunion!
T minus 6 hours!
Saturday, May 2, 2009
ZONK>
no more to say.....please see title.
I retract the "please"... just "see Title." WOw...
So true.
Running the front of the house for the next week... FOR REALSkis.
I retract the "please"... just "see Title." WOw...
So true.
Running the front of the house for the next week... FOR REALSkis.
Wednesday, April 29, 2009
Chef Robert Irvine & DINNER IMPOSSIBLE
I am continually pulled back to tune into this series, because it's aggrivating and that makes it compelling. It's high stress---and for some reason those environments [while potentially hostile and flat out defeating] make entertaining TV. The great thing about this show is that the clock is always ticking DOWN. Always. Time is ALWAYS against Chef Robert. He puts together these ridiculous menus for the most obscure and atrocious numbers of eaters thinkable, in SCARY short amounts of time---with angering working conditions and inexperienced aid.
I'd like to try his food, to see if my mouth thinks it's as marketable as his show. What I would give to be a fly on the wall in his kitchens.....
His show is like--um, an encyclopedia of "Do's and Do NOT's" in the catering world. Lock it into the memory bank. Click Click.
I'd like to try his food, to see if my mouth thinks it's as marketable as his show. What I would give to be a fly on the wall in his kitchens.....
His show is like--um, an encyclopedia of "Do's and Do NOT's" in the catering world. Lock it into the memory bank. Click Click.
Monday, April 27, 2009
Monday
Wild day at work:
A disheveled elderly woman meandered into JD's today, and both my boss and I greeted her and offered our assistance. She ignored us, and continued to saunter along the front wall of wine racks for what must have been 30 or 40 seconds. I had snuck past her to stock a few bottles in the far corner of the store, and came back around asking if there were anything I could help her find. I found my inquiry being ignored a second time as she walked past me back towards the front counter. A few feet from the door she stopped, looked my boss and then myself in the eyes and told us that we worked/ran "an inappropriate business to have [pause] next to such a beautiful college..." She padded two steps closer toward the front door, looked back and recanted, "...excuse me for being straight and old fashioned." And with a final defiant "humph" and a head nod, she pushed her way back outside and continued towards downtown, my boss's "...mm'okay ...thanks?.." drowned out by a car accelerating through the 4 way intersection, and our front door clicking shut.
In disbelief, mouth gaping, I looked around for an army of angels or blinking neon signs, sirens, whistles, a flock of sea gulls or something, anything absurd to truly confirm the likely-once-in-a-lifetime event that had just taken place. I laughed... we laughed. She certainly told us.
*It brings me to an interesting point for contemplation and thought however. It's 2009, and thousands of people are finding/ will find themselves trying to enter/re-enter one of the toughest job markets EVER in our countries history. Employment means so many different things to so many different people. And many jobs or positions we take for granted; we take little notice of, or lack the understanding towards the importance and significance behind.
Who is the person who drove the truck, which carried the pallets, which contained the beans, that were boxed on the conveyor, which were cleaned by the hands of the woman whose family was out in the fields, that worked beneath the sun and rain clouds....all for you to enjoy your single drip, double espresso amaretto mocha as you frantically wait in line with a dozen other suits, desperate for your caffeine fix, hoping it will subdue the gut wrenching dread of the next 6 days ahead of you. Or the individual that's responsible for the perfectly creased cloth napkin that adorned your reservation of 8 last weekend at Alinea or Vermilion . Someone is cleaning. Someone is building. Someone is assembling, or stocking, or researching, picking, pulling, driving, washing... doing the unglorified dirty work that is perhaps underpaid, over-worked, and wrongfully cheated of liveable wages or job equity.
So I could care less if I was the victim of an attempted shaming this afternoon. I know that my work mean's something; to LOTS of people here in D-town, even if it is at JD's. There is purpose behind it. Perhaps not global purpose, perhaps not life changing or life saving [I suppose it would be ignorant not to include, life-ending as well...although that is a lengthy side-street of a conversation of its own], but I think being an employee at that store is rewarding. I think my employment, and that business is a part of something positive, a piece of something worthwhile. I have never felt sorry for being "a guy who works at a liquor store." Not once. People say things like, "God, I hope I never grow up to be a _____." or "I hope I don't end up being a ______ doing _____." [Electrician...bus driver....mail man...newspaper boy...late shift gas station clerk....Big-K-Mart Manager....McDonald's employee...a recycling center can counter or a garbage/trash pick-up...a second hand store....a toll booth operator...a waitress/server...ETC.]
The woman's comment today makes me slow, not necessarily stop, but certainly slow...and think: Why are those people working in those "unglamorous" positions? What is their reasoning? What causes them to take a position like that? Lack of education? Lack of ambition? Age? Sex? Family? Tragedy? Addiction? Automatically, I'm making an assumption, that you...that we, think and list, hardships, challenges, outside interferences, uncontrollable variables...
Maybe they work there, because they "know what they do [and know what they're doing]." Maybe they work there because they're getting paid more there, than they were at their previous job. Maybe they choose that job, that business, because it's the only plausible option for them at that time.... and maybe, amidst all of the what-if's, possibly's, and perhaps' is that which turns heads and ears, defies our societal desire for heirarchal status... maybe they choose it because they're happy.
In other news: B-Man has some how finagled his way into avoiding surgery--by doctor's consent--and continuing on with his season with basic a splint/covering and basic precautions. Lucky little bugger. Praise the Lord.
A disheveled elderly woman meandered into JD's today, and both my boss and I greeted her and offered our assistance. She ignored us, and continued to saunter along the front wall of wine racks for what must have been 30 or 40 seconds. I had snuck past her to stock a few bottles in the far corner of the store, and came back around asking if there were anything I could help her find. I found my inquiry being ignored a second time as she walked past me back towards the front counter. A few feet from the door she stopped, looked my boss and then myself in the eyes and told us that we worked/ran "an inappropriate business to have [pause] next to such a beautiful college..." She padded two steps closer toward the front door, looked back and recanted, "...excuse me for being straight and old fashioned." And with a final defiant "humph" and a head nod, she pushed her way back outside and continued towards downtown, my boss's "...mm'okay ...thanks?.." drowned out by a car accelerating through the 4 way intersection, and our front door clicking shut.
In disbelief, mouth gaping, I looked around for an army of angels or blinking neon signs, sirens, whistles, a flock of sea gulls or something, anything absurd to truly confirm the likely-once-in-a-lifetime event that had just taken place. I laughed... we laughed. She certainly told us.
*It brings me to an interesting point for contemplation and thought however. It's 2009, and thousands of people are finding/ will find themselves trying to enter/re-enter one of the toughest job markets EVER in our countries history. Employment means so many different things to so many different people. And many jobs or positions we take for granted; we take little notice of, or lack the understanding towards the importance and significance behind.
Who is the person who drove the truck, which carried the pallets, which contained the beans, that were boxed on the conveyor, which were cleaned by the hands of the woman whose family was out in the fields, that worked beneath the sun and rain clouds....all for you to enjoy your single drip, double espresso amaretto mocha as you frantically wait in line with a dozen other suits, desperate for your caffeine fix, hoping it will subdue the gut wrenching dread of the next 6 days ahead of you. Or the individual that's responsible for the perfectly creased cloth napkin that adorned your reservation of 8 last weekend at Alinea or Vermilion . Someone is cleaning. Someone is building. Someone is assembling, or stocking, or researching, picking, pulling, driving, washing... doing the unglorified dirty work that is perhaps underpaid, over-worked, and wrongfully cheated of liveable wages or job equity.
So I could care less if I was the victim of an attempted shaming this afternoon. I know that my work mean's something; to LOTS of people here in D-town, even if it is at JD's. There is purpose behind it. Perhaps not global purpose, perhaps not life changing or life saving [I suppose it would be ignorant not to include, life-ending as well...although that is a lengthy side-street of a conversation of its own], but I think being an employee at that store is rewarding. I think my employment, and that business is a part of something positive, a piece of something worthwhile. I have never felt sorry for being "a guy who works at a liquor store." Not once. People say things like, "God, I hope I never grow up to be a _____." or "I hope I don't end up being a ______ doing _____." [Electrician...bus driver....mail man...newspaper boy...late shift gas station clerk....Big-K-Mart Manager....McDonald's employee...a recycling center can counter or a garbage/trash pick-up...a second hand store....a toll booth operator...a waitress/server...ETC.]
The woman's comment today makes me slow, not necessarily stop, but certainly slow...and think: Why are those people working in those "unglamorous" positions? What is their reasoning? What causes them to take a position like that? Lack of education? Lack of ambition? Age? Sex? Family? Tragedy? Addiction? Automatically, I'm making an assumption, that you...that we, think and list, hardships, challenges, outside interferences, uncontrollable variables...
Maybe they work there, because they "know what they do [and know what they're doing]." Maybe they work there because they're getting paid more there, than they were at their previous job. Maybe they choose that job, that business, because it's the only plausible option for them at that time.... and maybe, amidst all of the what-if's, possibly's, and perhaps' is that which turns heads and ears, defies our societal desire for heirarchal status... maybe they choose it because they're happy.
In other news: B-Man has some how finagled his way into avoiding surgery--by doctor's consent--and continuing on with his season with basic a splint/covering and basic precautions. Lucky little bugger. Praise the Lord.
Sunday, April 26, 2009
Recharge
It was another busy Sunday morning at the restaurant. And thusly---after the previous post and today's work, I took a much needed nap...for 5 hours. And missed dinner.
B-man goes to see a doc of some sorts tomorrow to hopefully get a solid prognosis and analysis of his broken hand. He seemed in fairly good spirits today during the brief time I was awake this afternoon. Things happen for reasons unknown and reasons we can not comprehend. I certainly attest to that. Much of life does.
And Decorah has and is taking on a lot of water the past 36 hours...hopefully the sun comes out soon. Or basements might be getting wet "again."
B-man goes to see a doc of some sorts tomorrow to hopefully get a solid prognosis and analysis of his broken hand. He seemed in fairly good spirits today during the brief time I was awake this afternoon. Things happen for reasons unknown and reasons we can not comprehend. I certainly attest to that. Much of life does.
And Decorah has and is taking on a lot of water the past 36 hours...hopefully the sun comes out soon. Or basements might be getting wet "again."
sad saturday...frantically drained in every sense...
this has turned into a sad and challenging saturday... I'm reliving and re-experiencing a violent torrent of emotions I've previously wrestled with vicariously through my younger brother; who, while in a soccer match today, broke a bone [in his hand] that will require surgery, amidst his senior year of the high school soccer season--at an undefeated point in time.
I absolutely ache. Partially from the bloody-mind-and-body wrenching night behind the bar (private party of 40, reservation of 18, reservation for 10, reservation for 8 reservation for 6, restaurant completely full in between....100% Thrilling Rush--100% Exhausting--100% CRAZY!!!!) mostly from the cyclonic dizzied frenzy my mind is racing along right now. I can't help but compare and contrast my own past season and dream ending soccer injury to this of my brother's. It's horrid. I feel horrid. Words simply don't strike accord with the strain on my face at this current nearly 2 AM hour.....
Hind sight is a bitch and yet a valuable source of wisdom, experience, and opportunistic avenue for comfort and consolation...and connection. Because losing dreams; it puts oneself on an island---that is miles and miles from any sort of other human existence, and the desire for human engagement and encounter. It hurts that badly. It is THAT confusing. It is THAT powerful. And I want, SO badly, for my brother to not feel left alone on an island by himself, with only his own racing mind and messed up emotions to keep him company; because I've been in that lonely place before. And it's terrible. Just terrible. And he worked sooo hard, my parents worked sooo hard, to schedule surgeries prior to this season so he COULD play, and compete, and simply have the opportunity to make a dream become a reality.
He texted me one of the most frustrating texts I've ever received tonight while I was at work...a lot of FML's... I want to say something to him. I want to be of some comfort. But part of me thinks that individual's in that much turmoil simply can't be reached by human desire or action----solely through something of higher power, higher purpose...a far greater love than can be humanly expressed.
I have to work in 5 hours...and I just know that I won't sleep tonight. I'm in need of writing him a letter...of collecting my ownself....my own thoughts...in hopes that those words and reflections of mine, might save him some pain...might help him cope....might encourage and sustain a flicker of hope, when he feels like everything is lost. I need some Michael W. Smith. And a big note-pad...and a pen with lots of ink.
So many prayers for B-Man tonight. Many of them... I'll undoubtedly need this space, this blog, to process in the up and coming hours..and days.....because when he aches I ache. And when he's sleepless... I certainly am too.
I absolutely ache. Partially from the bloody-mind-and-body wrenching night behind the bar (private party of 40, reservation of 18, reservation for 10, reservation for 8 reservation for 6, restaurant completely full in between....100% Thrilling Rush--100% Exhausting--100% CRAZY!!!!) mostly from the cyclonic dizzied frenzy my mind is racing along right now. I can't help but compare and contrast my own past season and dream ending soccer injury to this of my brother's. It's horrid. I feel horrid. Words simply don't strike accord with the strain on my face at this current nearly 2 AM hour.....
Hind sight is a bitch and yet a valuable source of wisdom, experience, and opportunistic avenue for comfort and consolation...and connection. Because losing dreams; it puts oneself on an island---that is miles and miles from any sort of other human existence, and the desire for human engagement and encounter. It hurts that badly. It is THAT confusing. It is THAT powerful. And I want, SO badly, for my brother to not feel left alone on an island by himself, with only his own racing mind and messed up emotions to keep him company; because I've been in that lonely place before. And it's terrible. Just terrible. And he worked sooo hard, my parents worked sooo hard, to schedule surgeries prior to this season so he COULD play, and compete, and simply have the opportunity to make a dream become a reality.
He texted me one of the most frustrating texts I've ever received tonight while I was at work...a lot of FML's... I want to say something to him. I want to be of some comfort. But part of me thinks that individual's in that much turmoil simply can't be reached by human desire or action----solely through something of higher power, higher purpose...a far greater love than can be humanly expressed.
I have to work in 5 hours...and I just know that I won't sleep tonight. I'm in need of writing him a letter...of collecting my ownself....my own thoughts...in hopes that those words and reflections of mine, might save him some pain...might help him cope....might encourage and sustain a flicker of hope, when he feels like everything is lost. I need some Michael W. Smith. And a big note-pad...and a pen with lots of ink.
So many prayers for B-Man tonight. Many of them... I'll undoubtedly need this space, this blog, to process in the up and coming hours..and days.....because when he aches I ache. And when he's sleepless... I certainly am too.
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