Wednesday, December 28, 2005
Thursday, December 22, 2005
put a little english on it
Man, nine and a half hour shift today--I haven't been home since 8:00 this morning because I had to go straight to work from school.
School was awesome today though. I woke up, felt incredible, and stopped at the Starbucks at the end of the block where all the employees know my name. They didn't even charge me for coffee today. People here are so damn nice. I love Pittsburgh. But school was great. I took the cooking practical yesterday (I'll save that for another post), so I was supposed to be deep-cleaning the kitchen today, but I ended up doing prep for the chili we're having on the last day. I weighed the 18 pounds of meat we ended up with for the recipe, and using mathematical skillz, adjusted the rest of the recipe in proportion to that. It came out to be 25 bell peppers (sm. dice), five pounds of onion (sm. dice), 6.5 tablespoons of serrano and jalapeno peppers (mince), 20 garlic cloves (crushed and minced), as well as 30 ounces of chili powder, 20 ounces of cumin, and ten bay leaves that I had to toast in a rather large saute pan.
The high-volume prep was fun (and ironic, with me recently making fun of Emeril's incredible ability to make a few portions of a meal in an hour) and yielded me a big 2-inch hotel pan full of trinity. Tomorrow the meat will be seared in a tilt skillet, and then all the junk I cut up will be sauteed with it--this is done with a boat paddle. About six gallons of veal stock will be added, and over the course of several hours it will turn into the stuff dreams are made of.
Work has made me angry lately. Someone is stealing things (mostly meat--a whole striploin among other things) and there was a big heavy locked door installed at the top of the staircase. Every time we need to go downstairs to get something, we have to get a manager with a key.
But work was also cool today because I worked alone for a few hours, and banged out a nine-dish ticket (to go, which is not as easy as it sounds) all on time by myself. I remember when I first got here and worked Mondays by myself, I would get orders for, say, a filet mignon and mashed potatoes, and maybe calamari at the same time, and I'd freak out because I didn't know how to come up with a plan (or grill things properly). Now I know the menu like the cracked and bleeding back of my hand, and I know exactly what to do first, what to do simultaneously with other things, and what to fire last and instead of burning myself repeatedly in the middle of a clumsy nervous breakdown, it's second nature to rotate or flip things on the grill while cutting bread for sandwiches or taking stuff out of the fryer/oven/broiler/low-boy coolers. I believe that, today, I began to put a little English on the plates.
~you can come stay at my house
School was awesome today though. I woke up, felt incredible, and stopped at the Starbucks at the end of the block where all the employees know my name. They didn't even charge me for coffee today. People here are so damn nice. I love Pittsburgh. But school was great. I took the cooking practical yesterday (I'll save that for another post), so I was supposed to be deep-cleaning the kitchen today, but I ended up doing prep for the chili we're having on the last day. I weighed the 18 pounds of meat we ended up with for the recipe, and using mathematical skillz, adjusted the rest of the recipe in proportion to that. It came out to be 25 bell peppers (sm. dice), five pounds of onion (sm. dice), 6.5 tablespoons of serrano and jalapeno peppers (mince), 20 garlic cloves (crushed and minced), as well as 30 ounces of chili powder, 20 ounces of cumin, and ten bay leaves that I had to toast in a rather large saute pan.
The high-volume prep was fun (and ironic, with me recently making fun of Emeril's incredible ability to make a few portions of a meal in an hour) and yielded me a big 2-inch hotel pan full of trinity. Tomorrow the meat will be seared in a tilt skillet, and then all the junk I cut up will be sauteed with it--this is done with a boat paddle. About six gallons of veal stock will be added, and over the course of several hours it will turn into the stuff dreams are made of.
Work has made me angry lately. Someone is stealing things (mostly meat--a whole striploin among other things) and there was a big heavy locked door installed at the top of the staircase. Every time we need to go downstairs to get something, we have to get a manager with a key.
But work was also cool today because I worked alone for a few hours, and banged out a nine-dish ticket (to go, which is not as easy as it sounds) all on time by myself. I remember when I first got here and worked Mondays by myself, I would get orders for, say, a filet mignon and mashed potatoes, and maybe calamari at the same time, and I'd freak out because I didn't know how to come up with a plan (or grill things properly). Now I know the menu like the cracked and bleeding back of my hand, and I know exactly what to do first, what to do simultaneously with other things, and what to fire last and instead of burning myself repeatedly in the middle of a clumsy nervous breakdown, it's second nature to rotate or flip things on the grill while cutting bread for sandwiches or taking stuff out of the fryer/oven/broiler/low-boy coolers. I believe that, today, I began to put a little English on the plates.
~you can come stay at my house
Tuesday, December 20, 2005
woooooo, woo.
Whoa, it's nine degrees outside right now. That's how many degrees there are. Nine. The wind chill is -3. It was a really, really good idea to take that hot cafe au lait with me.
Monday, December 19, 2005
Don't feel like making a long post, so here's what's goin down:
Going home Saturday. Can't wait to see people.
Got paid Friday for a whole bunch of hours. Nice.
Cooking practical is this week. I'm totally stoked.
That party on Thursday was really great. I met some awesome people and didn't drink alcoholic beverages.
Going home Saturday. Can't wait to see people.
Got paid Friday for a whole bunch of hours. Nice.
Cooking practical is this week. I'm totally stoked.
That party on Thursday was really great. I met some awesome people and didn't drink alcoholic beverages.
Thursday, December 15, 2005
Man, that speech went splendidly. Taking the time off to prepare more thoroughly definitely payed off. I also brewed the best pot of coffee in the world using the knowledge I gained through my research.
For many years, I have been making bad coffee.
The simple fact of the matter is that, while I always insist on meticulously cleaning my equipment to rid it of old oils, storing my coffee in an airtight container away from light and heat, and never buying one of those pain-in-the-ass coffee machines, I just didn't use enough coffee to make coffee. It's 2.5 tablespoons to 8 ounces of water, man. More is fine, less is really bad. I always just "filled it up to that little line" in my grinder and dumped the talcum powder that 15 continuous seconds of pulverizing yielded into the filter--the result was always overextraction. After a certain point, all the oils were extracted from the grounds, and as I continued to pour boiling water over them, there was nothing left to flavor the water with except the more bitter elements present in the bean. Today when I used 14 tablespoons for 6 cups, ground my Gold Coast beans into the consistency of granulated sugar, and used not-quite-boiling water, I created the nectar of the gods; a full-bodied brew that had a bouquet like a seventy-dollar Cabernet Sauvignon. It was sweet without sugar, and smooth without cream, though it possessed a light acidity and subtle black currant overtones. It was not that bitter, pungent motor oil, desperate for dilution, that is consumed unhappily by millions every morning for power. It was pure, triple-distilled joy. After my speech, during which my classmates enjoyed some of my stuff from Dixie cups and a 1.5 quart carafe I found at Le Gourmet Chef, Alex told me he used to do a lot of coke, but that this shit was good.
Oh yeah, and the speech went well. People said I knew what I was talking about!
For many years, I have been making bad coffee.
The simple fact of the matter is that, while I always insist on meticulously cleaning my equipment to rid it of old oils, storing my coffee in an airtight container away from light and heat, and never buying one of those pain-in-the-ass coffee machines, I just didn't use enough coffee to make coffee. It's 2.5 tablespoons to 8 ounces of water, man. More is fine, less is really bad. I always just "filled it up to that little line" in my grinder and dumped the talcum powder that 15 continuous seconds of pulverizing yielded into the filter--the result was always overextraction. After a certain point, all the oils were extracted from the grounds, and as I continued to pour boiling water over them, there was nothing left to flavor the water with except the more bitter elements present in the bean. Today when I used 14 tablespoons for 6 cups, ground my Gold Coast beans into the consistency of granulated sugar, and used not-quite-boiling water, I created the nectar of the gods; a full-bodied brew that had a bouquet like a seventy-dollar Cabernet Sauvignon. It was sweet without sugar, and smooth without cream, though it possessed a light acidity and subtle black currant overtones. It was not that bitter, pungent motor oil, desperate for dilution, that is consumed unhappily by millions every morning for power. It was pure, triple-distilled joy. After my speech, during which my classmates enjoyed some of my stuff from Dixie cups and a 1.5 quart carafe I found at Le Gourmet Chef, Alex told me he used to do a lot of coke, but that this shit was good.
Oh yeah, and the speech went well. People said I knew what I was talking about!
Ugh, what a terrible day. My head feels like Hollandaise sauce. I donated blood yesterday and went to work about five minutes later, and closed alone (though I did have the best burger I have ever eaten, ever). I stayed up til 2 writing my speech on coffee and woke up this morning with this headache, and realized that I still haven't gotten little cups to serve coffee to the class in. So I'm skipping class to get those, be better prepared, and have more time to brew 1.5 qts of coffee to put in the stainless carafe I bought. I guess that's a fairly good reason, right? I'm doing really well in meats anyway, and I could grill flank steaks and make pico de gallo (on today's agenda) with my hands tied behind my back. I dunno. I use the available abscence days kind of liberally, but then again, I'm a busy guy and I never skip when I know there's something important--if I wake up already ten minutes late and feeling like I've been hit with a ton of bricks, but I know I'll be making tourne vegetables all day anyway, it's not really a big deal and I'm no worse a cook for doing it. I got competency signoffs for every cooking method weeks ago, so the biggest thing I have to worry about is the cooking practical next week before I go home. We're responsible for making one portion of a meat, a sauce to go with it, a starch, and we're given a vegetable and told to make it taste good.
Wednesday, December 14, 2005
Monday, December 12, 2005
listen to smashing pumpkins
People that have no idea what they want, who they are, or what they love bother me. I'm not saying I've got it all figured out or that I'm above hypocrisy, but a common theme among people here is uncertainty. There are lots of people that went so far away to be on their own with a life in cuisine as an excuse, but by the middle of the curriculum realize that they would never be able to do this shit professionally, so they just sit around the dorm on borrowed money, wasting away under the flourescent lights knowing they'll never amount to anything at this rate, but too lazy to really take control of their lives.
Most people slept through Chef Hunt's lecture on ACF certification and levels of skill in our industry. Hunt (one of the pioneers of the American system of apprenticeship and the recognition of cooking as a profession in the 1970s) talked about the Chaine des Rotisseurs, a 600 year-old organization devoted to perfection in gastronomy. I mean, Jesus, people, by putting on the whites every morning we belong to an international society that predates Christianity! There are only 67 master chefs in the country, and only 12 master pastry chefs! There is so much to aspire to in this field aside from making boatloads of money and associating with TV cooks who couldn't do high-volume cooking if their lives depended on it. Sure, Emeril can probably make a hell of a jambalaya. But so the fuck can I. I would truly love to see him make it that well for the Superbowl, because I bet you he wouldn't say bam while dumping buckets of trinity and speed racks of medium-dice tasso into a row of steam-jacketed kettles.
Sunday, December 11, 2005
I have to clock in in five hours.
1) My uncle once: drove me to school in a loud truck.
2) Never in my life: will I not like pancakes.
3) When I was five: I thought I would be a comedian.
4) High School was: total bullshit but a lot of fun. It truly didn't end up making a damn bit of difference that I didn't get the best grades and didn't study for the SAT, which I got a Goddamn 1225 on anyway.
5) I will never forget: how to make rice pilaf. That recipe is etched into my eyelids.
6) I once met: Jesus Christ. I beat him at Mortal Kombat.
7) There's this person I know who: I just gave flowers to.
8) Once, at a bar: I dropped off the clean glasses.
9) By noon I'm usually: cleaning up Chef Panzera's kitchen, or in deep, deep REM sleep, depending on what day it is.
10) Last night: I was drinking coffee several miles away from my house in the snow.
11) If I only had: made out with that chick at region choir.
12) Next time I go to church/temple: I'm going to wear a Bad Religion t-shirt.
13) Terri Schiavo: was far too publicized to incite a legitimate debate on the issue of euthanasia. But Jesus, man, that woman was not alive.
14) I like: a girl.
15) When I turn my head left, I see: bottle of Alviero Martini cologne and some kind of apple torte that Sara gave me.
16) When I turn my head right, I see: computer case, blank wall.
17) You know I'm lying when: I say anything positive about Good Charlotte.
18) In grade school: I was never really motivated.
19) If I was a character written by Shakespeare, I'd be: Mercutio.
20) By this time next year: I'll be a hell of a cook.
21) A better name for me would be: Johptimus Prime
22) I have a hard time understanding: religious people.
23) If I ever go back to school I'll: study liberal arts.
24) You know I like you if: I say I like you.
25) If I won an award, the first person I'd thank would be: myself.
26) I hope that: my roommate pays me for the last three month of cable bills soon.
27) Take my advice: and get the hell out of the South.
28) My ideal breakfast is: cinnamon motherfucking toast crunch.
29) A song I love, but do not have is: Rainbow in the Dark.
30) If you visit my hometown, I suggest: visiting the Starbucks on Spring Cypress. Because my God, you will see the most beautiful woman in the world.
31) Tulips, character flaws, microchips, & track stars: are unrelated.
32) Why won't anyone: question the government's actions?
33) If you spend the night at my house: I will cook you a sexy meal.
34) I'd stop my wedding for: a lobster roll. Shit, I'd stop anything for a lobster roll.
35) The world could do without: God.
36) I'd rather lick the belly of a cockroach than: work with slow cooks.
37) My favorite blonde is: Jenn Rensel.
38) Paper clips are more useful than: onion roots.
40) And by the way: I drink black coffee. But sometimes, if I don't feel like doing that, I put heavy cream in it.
41) The last time I was drunk, I: got a nasty email from my liver and never drank again.
42) My grandmother always: makes pecan pie.
2) Never in my life: will I not like pancakes.
3) When I was five: I thought I would be a comedian.
4) High School was: total bullshit but a lot of fun. It truly didn't end up making a damn bit of difference that I didn't get the best grades and didn't study for the SAT, which I got a Goddamn 1225 on anyway.
5) I will never forget: how to make rice pilaf. That recipe is etched into my eyelids.
6) I once met: Jesus Christ. I beat him at Mortal Kombat.
7) There's this person I know who: I just gave flowers to.
8) Once, at a bar: I dropped off the clean glasses.
9) By noon I'm usually: cleaning up Chef Panzera's kitchen, or in deep, deep REM sleep, depending on what day it is.
10) Last night: I was drinking coffee several miles away from my house in the snow.
11) If I only had: made out with that chick at region choir.
12) Next time I go to church/temple: I'm going to wear a Bad Religion t-shirt.
13) Terri Schiavo: was far too publicized to incite a legitimate debate on the issue of euthanasia. But Jesus, man, that woman was not alive.
14) I like: a girl.
15) When I turn my head left, I see: bottle of Alviero Martini cologne and some kind of apple torte that Sara gave me.
16) When I turn my head right, I see: computer case, blank wall.
17) You know I'm lying when: I say anything positive about Good Charlotte.
18) In grade school: I was never really motivated.
19) If I was a character written by Shakespeare, I'd be: Mercutio.
20) By this time next year: I'll be a hell of a cook.
21) A better name for me would be: Johptimus Prime
22) I have a hard time understanding: religious people.
23) If I ever go back to school I'll: study liberal arts.
24) You know I like you if: I say I like you.
25) If I won an award, the first person I'd thank would be: myself.
26) I hope that: my roommate pays me for the last three month of cable bills soon.
27) Take my advice: and get the hell out of the South.
28) My ideal breakfast is: cinnamon motherfucking toast crunch.
29) A song I love, but do not have is: Rainbow in the Dark.
30) If you visit my hometown, I suggest: visiting the Starbucks on Spring Cypress. Because my God, you will see the most beautiful woman in the world.
31) Tulips, character flaws, microchips, & track stars: are unrelated.
32) Why won't anyone: question the government's actions?
33) If you spend the night at my house: I will cook you a sexy meal.
34) I'd stop my wedding for: a lobster roll. Shit, I'd stop anything for a lobster roll.
35) The world could do without: God.
36) I'd rather lick the belly of a cockroach than: work with slow cooks.
37) My favorite blonde is: Jenn Rensel.
38) Paper clips are more useful than: onion roots.
40) And by the way: I drink black coffee. But sometimes, if I don't feel like doing that, I put heavy cream in it.
41) The last time I was drunk, I: got a nasty email from my liver and never drank again.
42) My grandmother always: makes pecan pie.
Saturday, December 10, 2005
dozen roses in one hand, cup of coffee in the other
Well, I haven't a whole lot of time before work, but here's what's been going on:I participated in a snowball fight the other night. There were five inches of snow on the ground. I rolled down hills, made snow angels, and did all kinds of awesome stuff.
The game rotation ended Wednesday, and we've been doing the second poultry rotation Thursday and Friday. It is good. I'll get a huge photodump up along with the menus when I have time.
Been getting plenty of hours at work, and things have been going fairly well there. Today's another Saturday when I open and close, and tomorrow's another Steeler's home game, so I've got to be in at nine.
Overall, life is good.
Tuesday, December 06, 2005
woo
Hey, I got my camera back. So this is what I look like with super dark hair. Also, I have a blurry picture of snowy stuff that I took from a moving car. Expect better wintry-type photography as time goes on though, as it hasn't been above freezing in quite awhile, and thusly, when it snows, it just kinda stays on the ground forever.
Sunday, December 04, 2005
don't you drop that yellow cake!
It's really funny seeing people up here trying to move around when there's an inch of snow on the ground. Everyone looks the same on the Southside at 1 A.M. The girl has high heels, a pair of ripped up jeans, and some terribly low-cut top on. Maybe one of those short denim jackets. The guy wears the pair of designer jeans and the dress shirt that he wears every time he goes clubbing, probably because his girlfriend, or a girlfriend in some point in time, said it looked good on him. He tries to look tough as he helps his girl up every time she falls on her ass, but the truth is that he is suffering from hypothermia caused by vascular dilation from all those shots he had, and will need serious medical attention soon. It really is a hilarious sight. People who have lived here all their lives still have no idea how to dress in December.
On nights like this, when my still-wet hair crystallizes as soon as I walk out of the dorm, I'm decked out in a pair of thick canvas Hot Topic cargo pants, merino wool socks and my trusty pair of combat boots, two sweaters, a big full-length wool overcoat, a lambswool scarf and a pair of cashmere-lined leather gloves. And, of course, a cup of piping hot coffee. It felt really nice outside tonight. I also had a rollicking good time sliding down hills on the worn-down soles of my boots. The entire city is covered in powder snow--Market Square is a big white sheet untouched by human feet, and heavily salted sidewalks make miles of cement look like giant Icees.
Pretty chaotic day at work. I opened and closed the place, and an hour after we ignited the kitchen the dining room filled up and we had tickets coming out for a 16-top among others. Not one of those nights where the grill is an unintelligable field of caramelizing protein, but not an easy dinner rush at all. At one point when I was searing an Ahi steak in sesame oil, I flipped it over and caused a quick grease fire that sent a giant fireball into the hood and made enormous flames wrap around my entire right arm--not even burning me but certainly supplementing my imagination later on while I continued reading The Inferno.
It was just me and my two buddies in the kitchen, but we kicked some ass and banged out a pretty creative and prep-intensive special at the same time. I think we ended up calling it a Horseradish-Crusted Flounder Fillet with a Lemon Dill Beurre Blanc and Risotto. The other night I took an old 16-inch sauteuse we lovingly call the Millenium Falcon and completely decarbonized it with steel wool and really corrosive chemicals so I'd be able to make the Risotto alla Parmigiana in a batch triple what I did when creating our recipe for it.
At the same time as all the stuff happening today, we were getting heavily prepped for tomorrow--there's a Steelers home game and as I probably mentioned earlier, we're on the way to the stadium. I fabricated ten pounds worth of hamburgers out of ground sirloin, emptied the oil out of both the fryers and cleaned them (a rather exciting process since if you spill the 350-degree oil on your hands while taking the giant stock pot of it out through the iced-over alley to the giant drums of spent grease, you can pretty much expect to need amputation), made a bunch of salad dressings and sauces in the blender, and when I should've been clocking out, I refilled a bunch of shit on the line as best I could and pulled scores of IQF meat and fish items, as well as a big tub of calamari, from the freezer to thaw overnight. My knees are going crazy from the 70-pounds-of-fry-shortening trips up and down the stairs and I'm starting to see grillmarks on everything.
And I have to be at work again in another six hours.
This is probably closer to the level of work I'll be doing once I get out of school. I know it. My job is a pretty sweet gig right now; the kitchen in a place where food is only half the attraction doesn't get too slammed on Friday nights, and walking down East Carson street tonight gave me a reminder of how nice that is. As I walked past the windows of several popular dining spots, I could see burnt-out sous-chefs with their jackets half unbuttoned and the callouses seared off their hands, already writing notes on prep sheets for tomorrow. And I knew that it really is like that every night, and the fact that I feel like I should have tongs and spatulas instead of hands right now is only a taste of what I'm going to experience in my career.
And I love it. I was thinking on the way back home tonight that I really don't regret anything I've ever done in my life. Except for not making out with Andrea Oncken at region choir--that was a pretty stupid move. But the whole professional cooking thing is definitely for me, as well is the school I'm going to (despite my hatred of the related classes this cycle), the place I moved to, and just the way things are going in general.
On nights like this, when my still-wet hair crystallizes as soon as I walk out of the dorm, I'm decked out in a pair of thick canvas Hot Topic cargo pants, merino wool socks and my trusty pair of combat boots, two sweaters, a big full-length wool overcoat, a lambswool scarf and a pair of cashmere-lined leather gloves. And, of course, a cup of piping hot coffee. It felt really nice outside tonight. I also had a rollicking good time sliding down hills on the worn-down soles of my boots. The entire city is covered in powder snow--Market Square is a big white sheet untouched by human feet, and heavily salted sidewalks make miles of cement look like giant Icees.
Pretty chaotic day at work. I opened and closed the place, and an hour after we ignited the kitchen the dining room filled up and we had tickets coming out for a 16-top among others. Not one of those nights where the grill is an unintelligable field of caramelizing protein, but not an easy dinner rush at all. At one point when I was searing an Ahi steak in sesame oil, I flipped it over and caused a quick grease fire that sent a giant fireball into the hood and made enormous flames wrap around my entire right arm--not even burning me but certainly supplementing my imagination later on while I continued reading The Inferno.
It was just me and my two buddies in the kitchen, but we kicked some ass and banged out a pretty creative and prep-intensive special at the same time. I think we ended up calling it a Horseradish-Crusted Flounder Fillet with a Lemon Dill Beurre Blanc and Risotto. The other night I took an old 16-inch sauteuse we lovingly call the Millenium Falcon and completely decarbonized it with steel wool and really corrosive chemicals so I'd be able to make the Risotto alla Parmigiana in a batch triple what I did when creating our recipe for it.
At the same time as all the stuff happening today, we were getting heavily prepped for tomorrow--there's a Steelers home game and as I probably mentioned earlier, we're on the way to the stadium. I fabricated ten pounds worth of hamburgers out of ground sirloin, emptied the oil out of both the fryers and cleaned them (a rather exciting process since if you spill the 350-degree oil on your hands while taking the giant stock pot of it out through the iced-over alley to the giant drums of spent grease, you can pretty much expect to need amputation), made a bunch of salad dressings and sauces in the blender, and when I should've been clocking out, I refilled a bunch of shit on the line as best I could and pulled scores of IQF meat and fish items, as well as a big tub of calamari, from the freezer to thaw overnight. My knees are going crazy from the 70-pounds-of-fry-shortening trips up and down the stairs and I'm starting to see grillmarks on everything.
And I have to be at work again in another six hours.
This is probably closer to the level of work I'll be doing once I get out of school. I know it. My job is a pretty sweet gig right now; the kitchen in a place where food is only half the attraction doesn't get too slammed on Friday nights, and walking down East Carson street tonight gave me a reminder of how nice that is. As I walked past the windows of several popular dining spots, I could see burnt-out sous-chefs with their jackets half unbuttoned and the callouses seared off their hands, already writing notes on prep sheets for tomorrow. And I knew that it really is like that every night, and the fact that I feel like I should have tongs and spatulas instead of hands right now is only a taste of what I'm going to experience in my career.
And I love it. I was thinking on the way back home tonight that I really don't regret anything I've ever done in my life. Except for not making out with Andrea Oncken at region choir--that was a pretty stupid move. But the whole professional cooking thing is definitely for me, as well is the school I'm going to (despite my hatred of the related classes this cycle), the place I moved to, and just the way things are going in general.
Thursday, December 01, 2005
december-snow shower-kiss
That's pretty much the only picture I have of myself with the black hair (which I need to touch up today). And my roommate took it with his phone, so it's not so good/makes me look kind of unfriendly. Once I get my camera back from Ashley's place I'll start taking pictures of all the awesome things I see every day again.Finished the second pork rotation today, and the game lecture and fabrication is tomorrow. After that it's three days of venison and duck and things of that nature. God, that's going to be good. I know a thing or two about sauteed medallions of venison backstrap, as anyone at my dinner party will probably remember.
Dumb cook got fired at work, so I've got some of my hours back. And the funny thing is, even though I've got more hours, we've been so slow lately that one of the two cooks in the kitchen has to leave before nine every night. The idea is to not pay us to sit around idly.
Going to the Southside today with Sueann to Angry Moon, her tattoo place; she's getting some new ink on her arm themed around Bush's song Glycerine--something like a guy lying in strawberry fields looking up at the clouds. Awesome.