Foodie Writes

And With A Pinch Of Magic...

2009-06-10T06:18:00.004-04:00

I come across a lot of people in my day-to-day path. I must cross paths with at least a hundred perfect strangers each and every day. Sometimes more, I’m quite sure. And that's just outside of my work. Most of whom I merely acknowledge with the flick of an eye-glance without committing to memory, and move on with my attention span. But some I end up paying attention to, observing them like they were artwork. And I never know what I’m going to see.

A good case in point…

Not too long ago, I was at one of the “hidden gem” food markets I go to. Outdoors. My usual routine…Dressed in gypsy meets Tommy Bahama type attire, my hair is almost always up and slightly disheveled from the breezes that drift through the air along with the lulling hum of the sun’s heat…complete with flip-flops or strappy heels, shades and a sun hat for when I’m not in the shade…Lazily snifting my way over isles of smells, sights, sounds and occasional tastes with iPod kicked into full gear. Usually lazy, beachy, sexy rhythms like Evil Ways by Santana or anything Bob Marley…funky, artsy melodies by artists like Suzanne Vega, Frente, Regina Spektor, Cake or Daniel Powter…hot and bluesy riffs by artists like The Alternate Routes…and who can forget the hot electronic tango mixes by Gotan Project…
Anyway…

I’m enjoying my musical self-grooving and snifting over the exotic and tropical produce section when I see a hand reach across my sight, delicately grabbing for the Cactus Pears while I was searching for the perfect bundle of Coconuts. In my world, ANYONE who reaches for THAT deserves an onward look-see. Cactus Pears…also known as Tunas, Prickly Pears and Indian Figs…are not very well known outside of the “food-aware” population. It’s a fruit that grows off of certain species of cactus, hence the name. With an ugly greenish, brownish and/or purplish coloration and a rough’n’tough skin splattered with spindly stickers…its appearance alone intimidates most. But those aware know that this nasty looking bad boy is actually luminously red, splendidly soft, and lusciously sweet on the inside. Granted, the process of getting there is a diligent one to say the least.

     Hence…I slowly shift my eyesight as I follow the hand with cactus pear back to its owner. A male. Around my age somewhere, perhaps a handful of years older than me…which was an extremely pleasant yet shocking surprise. Usually those familiar with the fruit tend to be much older than me in my experiences. Unaware if he noticed or not, I bondishly grin with a bit of a nod at his item choice. It was then I noticed he was an iPod shopper as well. I openly admit, he was a looker…in that cute and quirky sort of way yet with a certain laid-back-rocker vibe. But it was his grab of the cactus pear that had thrown me into an intrigued and inquisitive mental spiral.
     After looking over his attire and general look, I wondered who he was. What he did for a living. What kind of life did he lead. Heck, even what language, or languages, did he speak. Still self-grooving and snifting, I carefully observed his character and innocently halfway stalked him to see what else he might buy. He, too, was a snift shopper. We know our basic lists in our head, but we are always taking in new sights, smells, and tastes…looking for the next off-the-wall item most haven’t heard of or know of yet.
     I get distracted by my own shopping and hit the on-site world coffee vendor. I realize my fellow cactus pear shopper is in line behind me. After a handful of twenty-syllable orders before me, I order mine as my shopper steps next to me to give his order to the adjacent cashier...“I’m easy…Kopi Luwak” we say in unison to our cashiers, to which my shopper returns the bondishly grin with a bit of a nod. THAT blew my mind even more.

Kopi Luwak comes from Indonesia. Native to the area is the luwak, a small civet-like animal called a Paradoxurus. They eat coffee cherries. After digestion, the fully intact beans are collected, cleaned, roasted, and ground. The resulting coffee is a very rich and very heavy one. Not a rookie’s coffee by any means. Kopi Luwak is very rare…and expensive! It is considered one of coffee’s few delicacies. But it also freaks A LOT of people out.
What followed was simply…magical.

WITHOUT SAYING ONE SINGLE SOLITARY WORD to each other…not even hello...for the next two or more hours, we snift over the market together, with iPods still on, even sharing ear buds at times…sharing eye-widening smells, touches, tastes, smiles, nods, head-shakes and laughs with each other while passing items back and forth.
It came time to leave the market, and with iPods still on and STILL NO WORDS EXCHANGED, we gently hug and part ways, waving as we pack up into our cars. Never to see each other again. So far, anyway. I left with the feeling that I was so lucky to encounter one of life’s such magical moments. That was a day no one can touch…take away from me. If I hadn’t have looked at who had grabbed the cactus pear, I would have missed one of the most magical and miraculous experiences of my life.

Whether it’s two seconds…two hours…days…weeks…or a lifetime…

Life is intertwined and filled with magic and magical moments. The question is…are you lucky enough to catch them and see them? What exactly DO we miss in the blink of an eye? If we go through life with eyes wide shut, we can’t imagine what we miss. And life just…passes us by. This is why I go through life with eyes wide open. Looking. Watching. Living. Smiling.

If All The World's A Stage...Being In Convenience Stores Is Like Being Backstage Without Anyone Knowing You're There...

2009-05-13T04:14:00.003-04:00

I love my 7-11. Almost unconditionally. I made a pit-stop on the way to the local watering hole earlier tonight... I'm closing my tab and bantering with the cashier when:

A relatively scrawny Hispanic dude comes popping up to the counter gleefully mumbling something about scratch-off tickets. Beaming ear to ear and shaking his head, he mutters something about winning again and again...and says: "It's like Christmas is early...but two dollars at a time."

After which he excitedly purchased another scratch-off.

Thinking about how much scratch-offs cost, I said: "So you keep winning two dollars at a time?"

Still beaming ear to ear, he nods his head yes.

I then contemplated which was more amusing...

Him..

Or the fact that the cashier was so blitzed that he was completely unaware that this guy had already been in the store eight consecutive times within twenty minutes, purchasing scratch-off after scratch-off. As I left the store, I wondered how many more times scratch-off guy would go in and out of the store purchasing more scratch-offs... And how many more times it would take for the cashier to recognize him.

All Hail ChefNick!...

2009-04-04T22:01:00.003-04:00

Nick. Dude. I love you, man. You are so my new hero. Well...newly added to the currently devised list anyway. I shun myself for ever thinking of copy/pasting. But this deserves a copy/pasting. So I'm copy/pasting. (Oh just deal with it bitches!)

Brought to you by ChefNick...

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I just think a lot of people are just assholes. It's sometimes difficult to realize in the day to day humdrum of life, but there are really people who go to restaurants and leave a dollar tip for a perfectly good $40 meal.

Murderers are called sociopaths, but I say this class of socially-unconscious people are sociopaths too. They have no connection with the real world.

These people don't realize that to get service—and we're not talking good service, just any service at all—you have to act like a human being. You just have to drop the cheap act and the money-grubbing and the personal vendettas you hold against everyone who thwarts your vision of perfection, and just be a decent human being.

I've never gotten anywhere by treating perfect strangers badly. Especially perfect strangers who have the power over certain decisions that concern you, like ticket agents or waiters or bank tellers. On the contrary, I have received so many good things by simply treating them like human beings.

I have never gotten anything with a whine. On the contrary, I have gotten everything by just being a normal, thinking human being. The server is not a robot. The ticket agent is not a corporate tool designed to make your life difficult.

You are the only one who makes your life difficult.

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Dude. If I could figure out how... You would never pay for another drink. Anywhere. Ever.

Life In The Hot Window...

2009-03-25T02:19:00.013-04:00

I walk in the door at 5pm. Fully pumped with a Venti 4 Espresso Shot Caramel Frappacino. I'm itching and raring to go. Going to be a good expo shift. I can feel it. Punch-in time is 5:30pm. I inhale a couple of Sammies from Quiznos and punch in early. It'll be a quiet start, as usual. But I'm ready. And waiting.

6:00pm and the kitchen gears are at full speed. The tickets are flowing in the teens at a time. Everyone is on point. Food is coming out perfect. Ticket times are nothing but smooth. The lead ticket is at 13 minutes. Everyone's making their calls, communication couldn't be more spot on.

7:30pm...It's the start of the main, and final, push of the night. An influx of 20-plus tickets hits all sides of the line from a chunky part of the wait being sat. Right as that happens, the largest takeaway ring-in I have ever seen in my life hits the printers. A 15+ person order plus 6 or 7 other normal takeaway orders each equivalent to that of a 4-top or 6-top.

The kitchen is still on point. Here it comes, I think to myself, It's full game on or I'm going down...and down hard...in about 25 minutes from now.

Around 7:50pm and my window starts to fill rapidly. The front two rows lined with hot plates...Over three rows of takeway orders pushing right up behind, and more rows of hot plates starting to line behind that. Tickets still coming in. I slam back a few shots of my water bottle, already dripping with sweat, and dig my way through the window hardcore. Using both hands simultaneously, I finish off hotplates on my left side and box and label takeway with my right.

In a matter of seconds I am on a pure adrenaline induced auto-pilot. This is what I call the "black-out" time of the night. You know what's going on in the moment, but you don't remember shit by the time you're done.

Before I know it, the window is empty at around 9:15pm. That was it. The end of the final rush. And what a rush it was....I held it. I maintained. I conquered. I come out of my black-out, covered from head to toe in sweat, steak juice, au jus, clarified butter, brandy cream sauce, apricot chili glaze...you name it, it's on me.

9:30pm and it's closing-time quiet but I stay in the window during the trash run just in case something crazy happens, even though it won't, and never does.

9:42pm...I punch out, light up a cig, get into the car, and head home to shower. Immediately. Even before grabbing a beer.

QUOTES OF THE SHIFT...

"What the--oh my god. I wanna throw up through my nose."

- Server, in response to an aroma stemming from the saute station.

Me to Salad Guy: "Jeff...that is one seriously hot looking Wedge. You need to make them all look like that."

Salad Guy: "You're seriously hot. I wish you all looked like that."

Server to Make-Up: "Can I get a large side of BBQ?"

Make-Up: "Uhh, Large? Define large...What is this? Fast Food?"

How Foodies Wake Up...

2008-12-15T00:32:00.006-05:00

It is mid-dayish. I'm still sleeping. And right on schedule.

Randomly, a familiar noise arouses me from slumber. It is my cell phone, blaring at me that I have received a TEXT message. Attempting to do so with my eyes still shut, I fumble for the cell...Knowing that I do not need to be awake yet since my alarm has not yet gone off. I muster the energy to find out exactly why I've been woken up. Before the alarm.

This is the texting conversation that ensues (He's a foodie as well):

Single Male Friend: I had this crazy dream about you last night - it was kinda hot!"

Me: "Oh dear lord...why am I afraid."

Me: "Wait...Hot??...are you sure that I was the one in the dream?"

Single Male Friend: "Well...we were having a 5 course meal on a yacht - naked. And then we sailed to Alaska."

Me: "Alaska? No. Not fun. And NOT hot."

Single Male Friend: "Hey. It was a dream. The sex was hot."

Me: "A sex dream...that's just great."

Single Male Friend: "I AM a man."

Me: "Right. I forgot that. Thank you for reminding me."

Me: "Women are just as obsessed with sex as men. Some just try to be more "PC" about it than others."

Single Male Friend: "So should I pencil you in at midnight tonight?"

Me: "I guess I should have seen that one coming."

Me: "Yeah. I kinda set myself up for that one, didn't I."

Single Male Friend: "True. You should have seen that one cumming. Ok - bad pun."

Me: "I'm getting ready for work now."

Single Male Friend: "Later"

Me: "Later"

Ahh, yes! The invigorating, always entertaining, life of a foodie. Only in this particular lifestyle could one wake up to such a conversation. And on top of that, the asshole upstairs apparently hired a team of rhinos to do his vacuuming. Sigh.
As I stared at the ceiling with intense scrutiny, I actually began to contemplate whether or not he was somehow having sex while vacuuming.

::pause::

Or perhaps having sex with the vacuum cleaner.
::pause and contemplation::

But that's just serious ouch waiting to happen. He's hired rhinos to vacuum. Right?