I am not a morning person. Some of you may know this about me, but I would like to clarify:

I am not a morning person.

Today was the restaurant's first brunch. It went well, although people weren't exactly lined up at the door. 29 covers, between ten and two. We did some French toast, steak and eggs, omelettes, etc. Actually, Trevett did the omelettes. That was the deal. I don't do omelettes anymore--not since working in that grocery store. I'm scarred for life.

It was, however, fun to do breakfast cookery professionally. I think I'd like to do it for a short time in between real jobs someday. The normal, nine to five schedule is rather nice, I have to admit, though, and if I ever did it permanently it would allow me to still do intense line cooking while having more of a life. I dunno. Social lives are overrated.

strange, strange day

Wednesday are usually my early night, but leaving Legume at 5:00 is an entirely new thing for me. We weren't actually open today, but I headed to the restaurant at ten to get caught up for the daunting week ahead. There's a busy Thursday, Friday and Saturday, and then we've got to get up early as hell to cook our first brunch at 10:00 AM. The following day is the extravagant New Year's Eve dinner, which features a pretty ambitious tasting menu. Preserved foie gras with cornmeal crepes and prunes, the usual pork terrine that I do except with black truffles, roasted quail, scallops, etc. It's going to be amazing. It's just going to take a lot of work, such as butchering forty or fifty quail, and they're awfully little.

I think it's going to be challenging, although nothing compared to some of the tasks I've been charged with in my cooking career. I'm only nervous about the brunch. Breakfast cookery is something I learned briefly but never did professionally--it's going to be a lot faster and more demanding than any of the groggy morning-after meals I've created.

The week off will follow any stressful nights I have this week anyway. Not that I'm just pushing through work from weekend to weekend or anything, but admittedly I'm excited to experience a week the way other people do, and without the exhaustion that goes along with the holidays. Plus, it's going to snow!

fotographs

Ah, the kitchen. Note my growing collection of empty beer cases.

This little darling's name is Angelina.

The party roof.

Alice.

...and the workingman's Formula hub, no-name 13T cog, and cheap KMC chain. One of my track nuts is completely stripped, and I'm waiting for more--until then I can't take this wheel off.

The living room.

The garage.

fixed gear mountain bike

So, despite the lack of real winter here so far, I'm riding around with my studded tires--people I've talked to have said I should just put em on now, and ride until I see green grass again. It's a whole different bike. Generally, I avoid things like sewer grates, big potholes, curbs, and small animals, but now the bike rolls over all kinds of crazy shit. It's basically a 29er mountain bike at the moment, so I've been experimenting with jumping onto curbs and riding through the park to get to work. It's actually pretty awesome. At first the incredible amount of rolling resistance made me a lot slower, but it's not bad now that I'm used to riding thicker tires that're larger in diameter and at a lower pressure, at the same 39x13.

Christmas is here, finally. I get a vacation. And really, this is just vacation part one. The entire first week of January is mine to do whatever the hell I want, whether it's riding to Cleveland or sitting on my couch with a bunch of forties. The riding to Cleveland thing is actually a pretty realistic idea, too. The weather of late has been in the high fifties, with sunshine, although today it's raining quite a bit. I'm wishing for an ice storm like the one we had during the Christmas party. This time, instead of falling on my ass, I plan to roll past all the awful traffic...

crazy mocha? what?

I've changed coffee shops today, on this wonderfully icy day off. Crazy Mocha in Oakland. Coffee's good, internet's free and doesn't require a username and password, it's easier to get a table and the barista is in the top three hottest women in Pittsburgh, maybe even top two, and the music here is good indie rock instead of festive and annoying Christmas stuff. So, it's a nice change of scene.

I saw, while locking up--no joke--a black and gold track bike with a bandolier full of 7.62mm bullets as a top tube protector today. It changed my life.

Last night I seriously fell on my ass, riding to and then from the Legume Christmas party. It hurt, although not nearly as much as falling when it's just dry concrete. I'm not bad at the falling part--when you skid out on the ice it's really just a matter of holding your bike with one hand, and sliding onto the road with your other side, as opposed to letting the bike totally leave you and breaking your tailbone with the shock. Not to mention, if you hold onto the bike and dismount properly, without landing on the wheels with all your weight, you won't hurt anything; Alice remains unscatched from the recent trauma (she's a strong, strong girl). The bad part is, I've only ever fallen twice, and last night I fell two times in a three-hour period. So, it's time for snow tires. I ordered two 700x35 Innova tires with aggressive tread and carbon steel studs as soon as I got home last night. They should be here Wednesday. Honestly, I'm pretty excited about riding on ice like it's pavement.

The part I am pretty good at so far is staying warm. It's amazing how you don't need many layers, just very thorough protection for your extremities. Yes, I am riding in L.L. Bean hunting boots.

On that note, ow. My butt hurts.

an eventful weekend

It's been rainy lately. Not my favorite type of weather. I prefer when all the rain is frozen, and therefore has a tougher time of making me wet.

Luckily, fenders are a beautiful invention--full fenders, painted silver, with mudflaps. I'll put up some pictures soon. Alice is a classy lady.

This is just a heads up from me, but riding bicycles in the snow fucking rocks. Especially little red fixed gear bicycles named Alice.

KMC: kill my children

Broke a KMC Z chain the other day taking Alice up a hill. Pin broke right in half. It's the third chain I've ever snapped, and I'm not sure if it's the fact that a fixed drivetrain takes a lot more abuse or that KMC has been nicknamed Kill My Children by fellow cyclists. Anyway, the chain ended up being too short after removing the damaged links, and I didn't have spares, so I went to Kraynick's today to get another one.

I got the exact same chain, but it cost me a ridiculous seven dollars. I set out today expecting to spend 30 bucks on a new component, and this guy's bike shop, which is like what my garage will be like in heaven, has a million of these BMX chains lying around. It's incredible.

Anyway, despite the fact that it's the same chain, I feel better about this one--I installed it, so I'm familiar with what links I broke and reattached. Plus, I didn't use the convenient master link, so that should make the chain much stronger.

On the subject of bikes, the rides are getting a little more icy every day, so I'm being forced to become a better rider. Jumped off a curb the other day into a sheet of ice, and luckily managed to pull the back wheel out before I skidded out, but it was a scary sensation. I'm changing my tires from IRC slicks to Bontrager Turbos today, which are strong as hell, provide good traction, and are a lovely 20mm wide.

morning cawffee

Prantl's bakery is officially a legend. A morning, pre-shift legend. I <3 cinnamon buns.

Unfortunately, The Coffee Tree is also a legend but it's packed on Saturdays. No place to sit. So here I am at a Starbucks.

Riding the fixie is my new favorite thing ever. I was afraid the gearing would be too high for Pittsburgh (39x13), but the commute is really quite comfortable, as are most rides that don't involve epic climbs. The only really rough climbs I do these days are up to Squirrel Hill anyway, so it's really a match made in heaven. Last night, I beat Trevett, who was driving to the O from Regent Square. It felt awesome. I hadn't ridden the bike like that yet, but I found out that if I really want it to, it responds like a track bike.

I really want to get my shit together and go touring. I was at a friend of the restaurant's place for Thanksgiving and I met a woman who toured from California to D.C. Our dishwasher's roommate has done the same thing, riding around the country, living out of dumpsters and a little money, the only planning involved being hitting a few bike shops along the way. I think I could do it on the fixie. It's always scared me mostly because I'm not an expert enough bike mechanic to fix everything on the bike if it stops working, and that becomes a situation when you're 100 miles out of your home city. But with the Schwinn all I'd need to keep around is a pair of folding tires, a few tubes and maybe an extra chain. That's the beauty of the bike--when something sounds wrong, there are only a few thing it could really be. All I need is fenders, really, and maybe I could get a rack and panniers if I didn't want to use my messenger bag.

alice

Isn't she beautiful? I just need to get a cog for the other side of the flip/flop hub--I'd like to have it be geared a little higher. Right now it's set up for its previous owner who used it to recover from a knee injury, so the drivetrain isn't so challenging. Well, it's challenging going downhill.

i have a problem

I do. Today I bought a Schwinn Le Tour fixie conversion from a guy in Squirrel Hill. It may be my new favorite bike. I never thought I'd make the final crossover into bike hipsterdom, but here I am, proud of my straight chainline and one little brake.

It's a beautiful machine. I'm not great at riding it yet, though. Also, I think the track cog isn't on all the way because it slips when I try to skid or put a ton of force in it. But pictures will come soon. It's a shiny, bright red frame, and her name is Alice.

guess who's at a coffeehouse on his day off again

Yeah, this is really all I do. I relax, drink coffee and whore myself out to social networking websites.

Not really. I have several interests! I realized this recently, that now when people ask me what I'm into, I can actually respond by saying I'm chiefly interested in bicycles, food, music, coffee, beer, and women. Hooray!

Today I ate herring and trout, in preserved salted form. I'm currently reading a book about the history of salt and it's made me respect salted meat and fish a little more. Plus, I ate a lot of sardines on crackers when I was a kid.

I also got some nice Stilton and a raw milk French cheese at Whole Foods. Living right next to that store is going to do terrible things to my food budget. And I don't really mind.

I navigated a much quicker way home from Diane's place today, also. I was afraid of riding Shady Avenue for awhile due to the construction (I broke the shit out of a wheel awhile back because the road was so horrible). It's a really wonderful downhill ride. I'm finally beginning to appreciate cycling as a way to get around and see the city just as much as a way to be showoffish. Sometimes it helps to downshift and just look up at the leaves while you're gliding downhill.

I'm totally going to cook some steaks tonight. And drink some fermented tea. Have I mentioned my affinity for kombucha? It's an ancient Chinese tea that's fermented with a specific bacterial culture. It's sort of a crunchy hippie drink, supposedly the perfect thing for ridding your body of "toxins" and improving liver function, new-age bullshit like that, but it's really just kind of delicious. Admittedly, I do feel good when I drink it--there is something to consuming living food. I feel very alert and clear-headed at work, and my friend and I have concluded that it greatly lowers alcohol tolerance; maybe it really does clean out your body a little, leaving it vulnerable for drunkenness. In any case, it's a wonderful beverage and you should try it.

61C cafe

I love bicycles. I'm actually looking at mine right now through the window of the 61C, a coffeehouse named for the bus line it's on. She's a work of art now, although not nearly complete. I put bullhorn bars on last week with mountain bike brake levers--I decided I just really don't need drop bars, and didn't like the ergonomic design of the ones I had. These are lighter and more upright. I'm waiting for the proper brake levers to come in the mail, which will actually plug into the bar ends instead of clamping onto the bars, so I'll have a much larger selection of riding positions (that's sort of what it's about, being able to put your hands in different places to avoid fatigue). Eventually I'll have the cables out of the way, underneath bar wraps. Right now it's bare metal with brake cables all over the place.

I went to Avalon today. I got some low-top Chucks for twelve bucks. I feel like a champion. Also, new pants. Every pair of jeans I own has a pair of holes in the back from where they get stretched out by my bike saddle. It's getting to be a little obscene.

Speaking of riding, it's getting cold. This is going to be the first winter I've really ridden in (I haven't even really been riding for a year!) and I'm really catching onto what's important. Wearing tons of layers isn't so important as keeping your extremities covered--I find myself getting overheated even below freezing when I have a lot of clothing on, but fine when my ears, face and hands are covered fairly well. I actually like it quite a bit more than riding in the summer--I'm less of a mess when I get to my destination. Being sniffly isn't as gross as being drenched in sweat.

Coffee is nice. It's five o'clock right now and this is the first cup I've had today, and I can really feel myself becoming a nicer person. I'm kind of caustic and socially awkward when I'm going through caffeine withdrawal.

Everything seems so much clearer when it's cold. Like the world is one big icy mirror that shows us ourselves in everything we do.

Your results:
You are Malcolm Reynolds (Captain)

Malcolm Reynolds (Captain) 75% Kaylee Frye (Ship Mechanic) 70% Zoe Washburne (Second-in-command) 65% Dr. Simon Tam (Ship Medic) 65% Wash (Ship Pilot) 60% Jayne Cobb (Mercenary) 55% River (Stowaway) 50% Derrial Book (Shepherd) 35% Inara Serra (Companion) 35% Alliance 25% A Reaver (Cannibal) 5%

Honest and a defender of the innocent. You sometimes make mistakes in judgment but you are generally good and would protect your crew from harm.

Click here to take the "Which Serenity character are you?" quiz...

dried ancho chillis

Life can be chaotic. In fact, it almost always is, in some way. We're always trying to get to some point we haven't reached yet, buy something we don't own, go somewhere we haven't been, or kiss someone we haven't met. Human nature and satisfaction don't really seem to mix, at first glance. After all, what is life except what we do between transitions? Sometimes it seems like existence is nothing but a cycle of getting what we want, then losing it and finding something else again.

We're really all just looking for stability, even though none of us can define what that really means. Stability can be a month's rent, or sitting in your new home after you've moved everything in, or waking up with someone over and over and over. It can be gasping for air when your head comes out of the water. It can even be letting go every once in awhile, and just seeing what happens, even though no one likes to admit it.

What life really ought to be is a mixture of chaos and stability. Legume Bistro is a constant for me. It's a ritual, a bike ride the same way every day, a smell that I can never forget. But it's also hectic, painful, overwhelming, and sometimes it can seem short-term. It's a lot like love, or friendships, or school, or like being in a band. We have good times and bad times.

I know I haven't written a lot in the past month, or in the past year or two for that matter. I need to start again. Talking about life like this is a tremendous source of rationality and makes me understand why people write in their journals about the stupidest little things. It's good as something to reflect on, but more importantly, I think it tells me about who I am right now.

Right now I am John Gray Heidelmeier. I am the sous-chef of a very young restaurant. I'm not a bad cook, but I have a lot to learn about food and managing people. I love cooking unconditionally but don't know if it's what I want to do for the rest of my life. I want to sing again and if I could ever make a career out of it, I would.

I love bicycles, because they make me feel like I'm flying. Also, they're full of moving parts that are fun to disassemble and they make me feel strong. The cycling community is also completely riddled with beautiful, long-legged women.

I live in a very big apartment that I'm really proud of with a girl who I split up with recently. I had a really good time with her, and learned a lot about myself, but it couldn't last, and was something I did as a result of one of those transitions in my life. We actually make pretty good roommates, although she's moving out eventually. Diane and I are back together now. We made pancakes this morning, and I dug up my plants from the garden and put them back in my pots so they'll stay alive when it gets cold. I love her.

I love Pittsburgh. I think I'd be okay with living here for a few more years in its charming, unique little neighborhoods. The public transit is pretty good. I might want to go to New York, but I don't want to live far outside the city or pay half my income to my landlord. In any case, a place with flatter, more well-maintained roads could work out. Wheels, tires and tubes are expensive.

I don't really like going out too much. I am most in my element at home, leaning over the stove or having a few beers or being with someone I love. I also love sitting in coffeehouses like this one, where I like to clear my mind of all the crazy shit floating around in it. I'm not crazy about people, and only have a few close friends who I choose carefully.

I am very, very monogamous. I'm also a little bit old-fashioned. I like to open doors for women and take care of them a little bit, and consider modern feminism to be a little scary.

I'm kind of a nihilist, and don't really try to save the world. I believe it's going to end, maybe in my lifetime and maybe not, and all I really give a shit about is having a good time before, and maybe after that happens. As much as I try to ride my bike because it saves the planet, it's really because I never got a driver's license, could never afford a car, and don't want to get fat. I still go to the local grocery store and then throw away my plastic bags when I get home.

So, that's who I am, and that's what life means to me. I guess it's been awhile since I've stepped back a little, you know?

new rattle can job

Not much is new here. I'm having a pretty good time with myself aside from the persistent warm weather. Be cold, Pennsylvania! Don't be shy!

I got a new bicycle today. She's a beauty. Actually, she's an entry-level roadbike with department store components. But she's a beauty. And she's modern--not 30 years old. So now, instead of buying an old-fashioned, low-end component every month to keep myself on the road, I can jump on those Campagnolo derailleurs and cassettes and cranksets when I see them selling for peanuts, because they'll be compatible with my frame.

I need help coming up with a name.

Okay, I'm in a better mood now. Sorry, guys.

it's like ninety degrees outside

I'm really stressed out.

It's the first time I've ever said it and meant it, I think. I may go and ride my bike in a minute, or maybe I'll just stay on the couch and try to relax for the rest of the night. I'll be up late, definitely. I always am.

Shut the fuck up, somebody's car alarm!

Okay, that's over. There just aren't enough hours in the day, you know? There really aren't. That and, the human body eventually needs to rest and recuperate. Those are the two obstacles in the way of my life right now.

The job is good, it really is. I'm perfectly happy with cooking twelve hours a day, coming in before I'm asked to and creating really great food. The food right now is amazing, by the way. We overhauled the menu completely this week, adding homemade pasta and replacing some of our simpler cut-it-open-and-grill-it dishes with complicated braises, involving pan sauces and some serious moves during, and before service. It's a lot of work. There's always something to be done, and when everything is done, there are things that you can do to get ahead for the next day. But I feel like it's worth it. The food is the most important thing. And the only thing I really know about food for sure, really and truly--more than I know how to caramelize an onion, or cook rice properly--is that it takes a lot of hard work and patience.

When that stuff is done, there's service, so you have to quit thinking about how much prep there will be tomorrow to run a constant set of priorities in your head for five hours straight. Can I send out these small tables before the twelve-top? Should I plate up all these tables at once, or stagger them? Did I fire enough chickens? Am I short something? Did I miss the temp on a steak, and need to pull one of my fucking magic chef's hat in thirty seconds? Did a server forget something, and do they need me to fix it?

Do customers know that if they want to write their own Goddamn menus, they can either open up their own restaurant or go to someplace that's willing to deal with them? No, we don't have any asparagus to substitute for the roasted squash! First of all, it's fucking October and asparagus are NOT IN SEASON! Second, the menu's on the front door. If you don't want to come in and let us serve you a nice meal that we've worked our asses off to prepare for you the way we see to be fit, being professionals, just don't bother. I mean, what the hell gives people the right to treat employees of the service industry the way they do?

Fucking god damn shit, FUCK!

Hey!

Today, I'm going camping with the entire Legume staff, at Raccoon Creek State Park. It's just today and tomorrow, but it should be fun. Opal's coming too. I've done a lot of prep since I signed up to do dinner--my 16 quart is full of beans and stock, I've got a bigass bowl of French bread rising, etc.

Other than that, not much is new. The restaurant is doing very well since all the reviews came out, I'm riding my bike an awful lot, my life has actually reached a period of financial stability where the only thing I need to worry about is work, and everything else is taken care of. It's pretty nice. 60 hours a week in a kitchen isn't bad, but when you have rent, bills, student loan payments, and feeding yourself in the back of your head the whole time, it can be taxing.

Don't get me wrong, I'm incredibly exhausted. It's 2:30 and I just woke up.

My thoughts are not quite coherent yet. Maybe more later when I've had my coffee.

I'm still alive, to let you know. Just cooking a lot.

Allright, here we go!

Work, today, tomorrow, and the next day. This morning, I have to ride up to Morningside to sign a lease. I get the keys now, but Sunday I need to move. Somewhere between now and then I need to pack all my material possessions.

The place is amazing though. It's a huge one bedroom apartment with a nice big kitchen and a gas stove, right on Highland across from Casbah. It's a nice area, and I won't be paying a fortune for it. In fact, this is the first time I've ever been able to put down a deposit and first month's rent without completely going broke for two weeks. It's nice, you know?

I met a girl the other week. She's really pretty and nice, and her name is Opal. And the relationship we're in is sort of new, and extremely different, and you guys may give me shit about it, but I honestly don't care. She's a polyamorous, bisexual, 29 year-old mother of two. She's married, and her husband is awesome--we all dorked out and played D&D together all day on Monday. On Sunday, we all went to the zoo. Halfway through, when Noah and his friend Josh left, I found myself walking around the zoo with a girl and two kids, being taken for a father. I held Daedalus, her son, up higher so he could see the polar bears. Can you imagine me even remotely being good with kids? Or enjoying it?

The point is, we're crazy about each other and I really like being around her family. Despite the hectic schedule right now, I'm at a very good place in my life.

People-watching is really fun, by the way. I'm sitting in the 61c just watching the world go by--people are so fascinating. Right now there's a girl outside walking with a pizza in the box and a slice in her hand, very New Yorkish. A bike messenger dropped off his last package here and is having a cup of coffee outside.

I don't know where to live. It's overwhelming. Pittsburgh has so many small, cute neighborhoods and so many of them are convenient to my job.

extra special

So, my temporary living arrangements are working out pretty well for me. Bear and I have a much stronger working relationship now that I've asserted my whole alpha male deal (I am now walking the dog, vs. the do walking me). Also, I've used the gas stove once already to cook a decent meal.

I got my security deposit from my last landlord (finally!) and I'm finally caught up on all my financial bullshit enough to put a security deposit down on a place if I manage to find one. I think I'm going to live by myself again if I can find the right place. I need plenty of space to be the slob that I am at heart.

In the basement of this place is an old Trek carbon road frame, complete with Campagnolo components. It's got no saddle or pedals, but there are cobwebs on it and the chain is rusted out. I'm trying to find out who owns it so I can buy it... the damn thing weighs less than 20 pounds. If I could build it up with the better parts off the Concord, I'd have a fucking racing bike.

wooo!

I get to housesit a friend of the bistro's for a week. And she has an adorable dog, big Chow named Bear. I'm kind of excited.

I don't have time to go into detail, but the other day at Legume I made headcheese (with, yeah, a head), braised a pig's heart, made sauerkraut, canned vegetables, and did a bunch of other awesome stuff. There's so much good food there right now. We're curing our own pancetta.

and on that note...

I guess I'm single now, and in need of a new place to live within the next few months.

Man, I saw that coming like some kind of crazy motherfucking prophecy from god.

I'm not crushed, I guess, but this doesn't really fit in with my lifestyle too well. Now I have to sleep on the couch or in the basement (which is actually the house's fourth bedroom and fairly large, so it's not the end of the world). And that girl really enjoyed my cooking. It's going to be hard to find that again.

Ugh. I'm going to go ride my bicycle. But I won't do it angrily. Last time I did that I ended up with a lasting leg injury and a ripped kevlar tire.

don't smoke pot in my fucking restaurant!

What's up with the worship of Pabst among bike punks? I honestly don't get it. I mean, hooray for cheap, unpretentious beer and all if that's what you're into, but you'd think a bunch of kids who claim to be saving the world through the boycott of gasoline would have decent taste in booze. What ever happened to sophisticated revolutionaries? George Washington enjoyed fine sherry, not moonshine.

I don't know what brought that up.

Anyway, life in Pittsburgh is rainy as usual. Business at the restaurant is picking up, which I hope will be the end of our slow spell. Ever realize how the only thing worse than overwhelming hard work is the complete and utter lack of it? Being bored as a restaurant cook is the worst, especially when you're at a small enough place to care about its well-being. Not only is your source of livelihood losing money, but once you've peeled the entire case of potatoes and cut mirepoix for the next two weeks, there's literally nothing to do at all. It's similar to what I felt like in high school, actually; a sort of "I'm done with this test, can I get the fuck out of here now" mentality.

My weekend has been kind of boring. I've done almost nothing, aside from baking cupcakes and bread, and watching the entire two seasons of The Venture Brothers (as well as The Godfather and a few episodes of Curb Your Enthusiasm). Part of me knows it's good form to get some rest and feel refreshed after a long week of work, but I would've loved to ride across the Birmingham Bridge faster than traffic and pick wild grapes on the south side. Speaking of which, I picked a bunch of wild grapes two weeks ago, and made wine. It's sort of like a Beaujolais with too much acidity, but actually not bad. I just need real wine yeasts (I used brewer's and the wild yeasts on the grapes) and a better method of getting the sediment out of the juice at the end. If all this rain hasn't flooded the riverbank I'm going to go back when there are more ripe vines.

I don't know if I still enjoy living in this house or not. It's a nice place, yeah, but it's beginning to feel a little too suburban, or the fact that there are too many people living in it, or something. I feel weird about the whole situation right now. Maybe it's like when I lived in Texas and visiting New York has ruined my perception of my lifestyle here for me. It's strange. Being sous at the restaurant is the best job that could ever happen to me at this point in my life. I'm really happy with that. But as tough as it is, I kind of want the rest of my life to be more spontaneous.

I'm just spouting bullshit, considering I'm capable of being as lazy and boring as anyone else. I just spent two days almost exclusively on the couch. It's true that people don't ever truly change--I'm just like I was in high school, overthinking my life when I'm even the least bit dissatisfied with it.

But there are cupcakes on the counter.

back in the real world

All right, so I'm back on the air. I didn't mean to neglect my ongoing memoir. It's actually very important to me to look back on it after several years. But those who still read will understand that I have the same fairly good excuse that I always do--too much work.

The restaurant is going well. Right now, I'm in the middle of a full week off. To have one of these without planning ahead for a year is a remarkable thing, but as it turns out, the bistro is just closing for several days out of the year, much like a normal workplace. There are rumors that we won't have to work Thanksgiving, or even New Years.

I finally feel like I'm getting good. Or at least that I have a fucking clue.

At the goofy martini bar downtown, I made my first stupid mistakes. I got strong and became accustomed to the hours while I went to school and worked full time.

At Soba, I got fast. My entire life began to revolve around efficiency, around becoming a machine that did not feel pain. I learned how to create a System to make impossible things happen on the fly, I learned dirty tricks of line cooks everywhere to cover my ass if I fucked up. I learned that, even if you have a forgiving chef, you can only learn from so many mistakes and eventually, somehow, you have to become indestructible (or at least make yourself look like you are).

At the bistro, the moves, the intimacy with your equipment, and the timing is out of the way. Now, for the first time since school, I'm finally learning more about how to actually cook food. I can safely say that during the short time I've worked at Legume, I've learned more than I ever did about ingredients than at Soba (possibly because the shit we put on the menu at Legume actually makes sense). Now, I can cook a chicken. I can blanch green vegetables. I can skin a side of salmon, trim it, and portion it, and I know how to brine something. I know how to make escabeche and I know how you're really supposed to make risotto.

Don't get me wrong. I'm still an amateur, and even if I'm a sous-chef I've got a long, long way to go. I'm working on parts of a restaurant that I never even knew existed--I'm charged with creating an inventory system, delegating responsibility to people, helping with the hiring process, ordering, et cetera. The chef and I sometimes start our Saturdays at 9:00 A.M. at the farmer's market in the Strip, buying the product that turns into the menu. Even aside from the benefit you can take from knowing the farmers you get your food from, seeing ingredients move from market to plate makes me think about cooking in a completely different way. Actually, everything about the restaurant makes me think differently. When I first got there for a trial run, I felt like I was in a completely different universe.

Speaking of which, I told you that Whole Foods is a fucking soulless place to work, right?

Our dark week couldn't have come at a better time. The weather is hellish right now (I hear there were tornadoes in Brooklyn), and everyone is on vacation for the summer, so we were on the verge of losing money due to inactivity. Plus, I was burned out like a lightbulb. I've been doing little else than sitting on my couch, watching pointless television. I found myself so intellectually bankrupt after the past month or so that I actually watched the Alien vs. Predator movie. God help me.

I did go to New York City recently. Diane and I took the roadtrip and spent about two days up there. Although we're not trying to drive in Manhattan again (the Concord is coming with me next time), I would have been content with wandering around that city for two straight days. It's such an amazing place. When I went the first time with the choir, I fell in love with it and dreamed of living there someday. People have told me I'll change my mind if I get more personally involved with the chaos of the city, not to mention the existence of crime there as opposed to the wildly exaggerated evil lurking in Pittsburgh's "bad neighborhoods". But the chaos is what I love. In a city that competes so fiercely for space, there's something fascinating in every square inch. We went to an underground record store that was as big as my first job's hot line.

We also went to Tom Colicchio's Craft, where I spent a month's rent on foie gras, quail, halibut, risotto, braised mustard greens, and panna cotta, as well as the best cheese I have ever been able to eat. The food is hard to describe as anything other than genius, unpretentious, satisfying, and, coincidentally, an amazing work of craftsmanship.

After I hit a deep pothole and skewered some spokes through my front wheel, my bike is finally back on the road. I bought new alloy wheels and Bontrager kevlar tires, and finally fixed the brakes, sticking with my philosophy of fixing an old bike rather than buying a new one. Plus, I really like my old friction shifters and the sticker on my top tube that says to ride a fucking bike. Before the weather turned sour I had plans to ride to Cleveland this week, but now I'm saving that adventure for another week off.

the bistro

So, after a brief introduction to the world of grocery store cooking, I decided it's not for me. Yes, I quit Whole Foods. Despite the excellent pay, awesome benefits, friendly people, ridiculously simple work, et cetera, it was just sort of lame--and by lame, I mean cafeteria hairnet lame. I made a thousand pounds of coleslaw and pasta salad. I roasted some sweet potatoes. I used a tilt skillet. It felt, once I had learned the locations of ingredients and equipment in the kitchen, like I had given up. Like I had signed my life over to the big corporate healthcare plan in the sky, and I would never have to bleed, sweat, or work a late night again.

I can't do that. I told them, Wednesday morning, that I am a cook.

And now, it seems like even that's in the past. I am now the sous-chef of Legume Bistro in Regent Square. I have a kitchen, not a station. I have a menu instead of a carbonized saute pan. There is also the nice salary issue, as well as the restaurant being closed a few weeks out of the year--so it's time to develop my vision of food, thirty covers at a time.

I've got to go come up with a few new dishes.

Painted the frame matted black and shiny red yesterday, put black bar wraps on, and a new chain. Rear brakes are still out, I think I may wait to get a whole new set and cable rather than keep fiddling with the old ones. It sounds dangerous, but I've been riding with my front brakes only for quite awhile in the city, and most of your stopping power should come from the front anyway.

I wish I could post a picture of the bike, but my camera is irreparable. Best Buy said it had "water damage", which makes no sense. Maybe I'll stick to my 35mm for now.

cha-cha-cha changes

Finally quit my job. The chefs are very supportive, and I've got a great reference at Soba. They're good people. But it still felt great to get the fuck out. Anyway, I guess the ninth is my last day.

I'll be working as a prepared foods cook at Whole Foods from now on. It'll definitely be nice. If you work there, aside from other benefits, you get a 20% discount from anything you buy there, all the time. I'm even going to have health insurance, dental, vision, etc... The idea of being financially stable as well as covered if I ever fall off my bike and break more bones than I can ducttape back together is very comforting.

Also, Trevett at Legume bistro in Regent Square may be my new best friend. He treated Diane and I to a free meal on Friday, and it may have been one of the best food experiences of my life. I felt drunk after that dinner, especially considering he sent out way more food than we ordered. The place is beautiful--it's the size of my old apartment, and looks like somebody's dining room. They give you coffee in little French presses. The food is fantastic and tastes like somebody really cares. I'll probably be helping out part-time, because he's getting some serious business.

There's a good chance I'll be doing the occasional job for Big Catering, too. Those people like me, and it's always wise to keep your foot in the door. Plus, the money from those gigs is unbelievable--the one last Saturday was 110 plus tips for 525 people, for six hours of work.

Riding a bicycle is still so much fun for me. Last night I went for a 20-mile ride around the immediate area, and rode down the steepest fucking hill in the city at 50 miles an hour. It was such an incredible rush to do that--I let go of all the crazy shit that's going on in my life, as well as worrying about my bike's derailleur moving into the spokes, and just held onto my drop bars for life.

I was obsessed with getting a much lighter chromoly bike for awhile, but it can wait. The Concord feels ten times smoother with the new rear wheel I put on it, and I ordered a seven-speed freewheel and an extractor yesterday so I can replace the old sprockets and bearings. I'm also thinking of painting the frame red and black.

yowch

So, after a pretty rough crash on Ellsworth Avenue last week that left my bike and body with various mechanical problems, I've been stuck riding one hell of a frankenbike. My rear wheel was totalled--bent, spokes broken, but luckily no damage to the cassette, dropout bar or derailleur--so I took apart a 40 year-old Sears Free Spirit to create a rolling frame that I could get around on. My Concord now has a 27-inch wheel in the front, and a 26 in the back, both different widths. The six-speed freewheel was replaced by a five, so now if I overshift, my chain goes into the axle. But it works, and despite the crumbling Continental tire on the back end, I'm still rolling around the city keeping up with traffic. The bike, however, which used to be a big, heavy, steel sonofabitch to ride, is now even heavier. Tomorrow I'm going to my faithful LBS in Squirrel Hill to buy a new wheel, which will be cheaper than I imagined.

Oh, and the garden is coming along beautifully. I've got about 13 tomato plants, zucchini, corn, peas, broccoli, herbs, greens... it's amazing what you can fit into a space so tiny.

I'm really excited about planting my garden. I'm going to do it tomorrow on my day off. I got a hoe and seeds and everything!

crepes suzette

I haven't written in awhile I suppose. Things are busy. While the job search hasn't gotten me anything yet (small bistro job didn't come through for me), I do have a place to live now. I'm moving in with Diane later this month, and I'll be there for the summer, if not longer. Rent's going to be cheap and it's going to be fun--big kitchen, big house, big backyard for me to till and start a garden in. Seriously, I'm going to grow tomatoes and shit.

I guess I'm going to stick with the corporation for a few more months. Every day I stay there is another day that makes me look good to future employers anyway, so I may as well put up with it as long as I can. It's just rough sometimes. Saturday was 150 people, which certainly isn't the worst day we've ever had, but it was tough, cooking dinner long after close and then cleaning that beast of a kitchen. Soba doesn't have slow days anymore. Every staff meeting we have there's always talk of the most profitable year we've ever had, but strangely enough, they say the labor cost is too much to handle, so they can't give out raises. When I got my six-month review last year, they bumped me up two dollars, which didn't exactly move me to another income level, but it got me out of indentured servitude. Recently a few guys have had their reviews, good, valuable members of our crew who are doing good work, and the management basically told them they were shit out of luck. It makes me feel sick that I'm broke, and making more than them, and we're all working ourselves to death.

Nevertheless, I feel like I'm in less of a state of depression/career/apartment crisis at this point. I could be doing worse at some hellhole Pittsburghese Italian joint. This is all going to come back to me.

I'm going to go ride my bicycle. I'm training for the Cleveland thing, although I admit it'll still be at least a month before I can do it. The bike needs a little love before I'll trust it that far, but I've got some free parts coming my way; namely newer brakes. The ancient Dia Compe calipers aren't so good in the rain, and probably 85% of my stopping power comes from the front one.

I was paranoid recently I had a crack in the frame, or a bad bottom bracket, which turned out to be nothing. My crankset was making an awful creaking noise and it turned out to be a loose nut, so I finally quit being a cheapass and bought a 3/8 rachet and a 14mm attachement to take the whole bottom end apart, clean it, and put it back together much tighter than the previous owner had. Even still, I'm looking at getting a brand new Campagnolo crankset on ebay for a few bucks that might make for a smoother ride and gear ratios that'll be better for what I'm doing. All I'd like to have after that is a new six-speed cassette, but they're somewhat hard to find.

I've had the idea to do a tour from Pittsburgh to Cleveland. I think I'm gonna do it the next time I can get maybe three days off.

No road support--just me, a bag, and this old, old bike I'm riding.

The alleycat race I was in yesterday really sold me on the idea of seeing more of this country on a bicycle. It was probably one of the best things I've ever done, darting around the city, riding the trail on the north side, seeing the sunset on Hot Metal Bridge, and just having a good time with people.

Sorry I've disappeared off the face of the planet for awhile, but I recently underwent possibly the busiest and most stressful time yet at the restaurant.

Yes, it was another trendy fusion prix fixe menu, complete with pinot grigio spelled wrong on the fucking advertisement. I cooked over 76 of them one night, some terrible amount for the rest of the time. The entire array of courses was unbalanced completely; all on saute, nothing for the other cooks to take the load off. It was just me cooking the shit out of some food, really fast. As usual. I need a change of scene, to put it mildly.

Today I had an interview with a man named Trevett; a fellow food-lover and veteran line cook. He and his wife are opening up a tiny, tiny bistro in Regent Square with emphasis on French and Italian country cooking. This is my opportunity to serve pate de campagne to a few people at a time--and in a brand new kitchen with one or two other guys, nonetheless. I've just got to fill out his application, but being the first interested cook, I think I may have the job if I want it. He says he'll match my wage. Closed Sundays and Mondays, dinner only from five to ten. Jesus motherfucking Christ, this is so exciting! I can get away from that evil corporation and their Mexican restaurant chains once and for all!

god, it's windy today

Urban cycling is hard.

And I don't mean as an athletic challenge, which is the least of any city biker's worries. I mean acting like you're a driver. The price we pay for weaving in and out of traffic, mocking single passengers in Hummer H3s, and paying nothing for gas and next to nothing for maintenance is being easy targets for two-ton hunks of steel hurtling past us at twice our speed.

You can't stay to the right. You can't ride on the sidewalk. Unless you're in one of those modern cities that actually has bike lanes, you must be an element of traffic; signaling to other drivers, making eye contact, moving and letting move, and getting the fuck out of the way when cops and ambulances drive the wrong way at 100mph.

The bike you ride must be an extension of your body, and especially if you ride a city that's a mess of hills. If you're at a stoplight with ten cars behind you, and you've got to make a start going uphill, people are not going to want to wait up for you to do so. Shift into low gear and get your ass moving before you're flattened into the pavement.

Of course, most of the time, you can navigate through relatively calm streets to get where you're going on a bicycle--being an alley cat is one of the benefits of being small, after all. But sometimes, the only way to get down the hill is the way everyone else is, and you find yourself drafting a Port Authority bus at 40mph with a Buick on your ass, and you start thinking about your 30 year-old caliper brakes and crumbling pads, and whether or not it's time to replace that chain.

Speaking of the bike, I was doing some research today, and found out that mine may be a vintage piece of material... a Concord Pacer from as far back as the 70s. It's obviously been through a lot before me, considering what it looked like before I did some serious work on it. Just like my old Schwinn, it's fun to ride a piece of history like that.

Holy shit. My advice to anyone: avoid getting food poisoning.

Vacations always feel good. I don't know if I feel rested and at peace with the universe, a new man, or anything like that, but not being at work for a whole week does something good to anybody. It was good to see the family, Julia, Austin again.

I ended up working Tuesday--the saucier called in sick--but as part of the deal I get Saturday all to myself.

I'm becoming more and more obsessed with the idea of finding my new apartment for this summer. It's still a little too early to get something for late June, but there's something I really enjoy about moving all my stuff into a new place. And this time, I've actually got stuff--I won't be sleeping on the floor for the first few days in what was, last time, essentially a very well-equipped kitchen with a big empty room attached to it.

So there's not much to write about, except that things are getting better financially. I'm extending the repayment period on my loans and consolidating them, which means I won't doling out my rent's equivalent in monthly payments for the next few years. The idea is, of course, that I will eventually make enough money to pay the loans back faster. In theory. Aside from that, I'm hoping to get a cheaper apartment, so this all means I might be able to put some money in the bank in case I want to, say, take another vacation in my lifetime, actually buy a bike, etc.

Yeah! I fixed the bike! Everything's much smoother now, the derailleur, the sprockets, everything. That old chain was worn the fuck out.

I spoke too soon about the bike. My chain broke as I was on my way home down East Carson today, rendering my day ruined. I've got to buy a new one Thursday and go back down there to fix it, as the crippled bike is chained to a telephone pole off 29th street right now.

So, I haven't written much lately, but it's because I've been running around the city on a bicycle I bought. I'll take a picture later, but it's an old Concord Pacer roadbike.

It's amazing the level of convenience this has brought to my life. I left my girlfriend's house this morning at 10:30 to go into Oakland, where my bike was chained up, and get some coffee. Then, I went all the way through South Oakland and across the Hot Metal Bridge into the Southside--I've always wanted to fucking go over the bridges on a bicycle. Pittsburgh is a beautiful city.

Now, I'm at my old hangout, the Beehive Coffeehouse on Carson and 13th, and it's not even one. This is just too fucking cool. Once I get back into really good shape for cycling, I'll be able to go anywhere. The other night I went to Squirrel Hill, which is, well, a bike trip up a giant hill, but going home later was a serious fucking rush. 35mph on a bicycle with traffic feels fast. And don't worry, I've got a helmet. And even a little light, and a pump.

i gots mad thread count

So the apartment I saw today isn't bad. The appliances, shower, sink, windows are new, and it's been painted recently; the landlord does all the maintenance himself. The gas stove is, however, not even next to the counter. It's like, on the other side of the room. The place is also a little smaller, more like a studio than what I'm living in now. I met my potential neighbor, and he was a little creepy--a guy named Martin who'd been living in an identical tiny studio apartment for sixteen years ("Oh, he was late when he showed me my apartment sixteen years ago!"), whose hobby is collecting incense holders. Inconveniences like that aside, it is cheap. 335 a month with all utilities included and close to work, Whole Foods, the co-op... I would be saving a shit lot of money.

I don't think I'm going to take it though. The guy wants a full month's rent out of whoever gets the place, which means if I do take it, I'll have to move in very soon, most likely Tuesday. No deposit, but I'd have to pay first and last month's rent, meaning 670 bucks in the hole. I just paid 373 for my student loan payment, so if I did this, my budget would work out to... well, being broke until payday again, almost. I'm tired of that--last week I went out with my girlfriend to get breakfast and I was short a few dollars on the check. Breakfast. It was pretty embarrassing. I know I'm 19 and all, but I feel like I ought to have my shit together anyway. Right now I'm so caught up from this slump I've been in that I can actually afford groceries like a normal person. I have a high enough balance in my account that if I got shot in the chest on the way home tonight, I would be able to pay for my hospital bill.

Also, I bought new sheets today, something that has needed to happen for a long time. They were the first sheets I ever bought. I feel like a grown-up.

On an unrelated note, my cellular telephone machine is broken for the time being, so if you must reach me, use the interwebnet or the information superhighways.

"Giving back to your country is Army Strong."

Fuck you! I worked my ass off to support myself through school, and gave my country 2700 dollars last year! I don't need to get shot in the desert for my country too!

I just had a surreal moment. A girl I work with just walked right past the window of this coffeehouse.

I... just thought you guys would be fascinated by that. It was a great story.

Anyway, I've got some seriously excellent time off this week--Friday and Saturday, then Monday and Tuesday. I don't even know what I'm going to do. Today, so far, I went to Friendship to look at a new apartment, bought groceries (I'm not pathetically broke anymore!!), lazed around the apartment, and now I'm at Crazy Mocha in Oakland. And I've only been awake for about four hours! Imagine that.

I really have to get a bike. It's warming up and so people are starting to sell more; I saw a '92 shaft-driven Vulcan the other day that was just beautiful. I'm going to (if I wake up before noon) go and get my permit tomorrow so I can finally get my license--if not tomorrow, I'll do it Monday or Tuesday. I'm trying to move out of this place a little early so I can start saving a little money... I'm just paying too much for where I'm living now, and the rent plus the crippling debt from student loans doesn't leave me with a lot at the end of the month. This apartment I'm thinking about is only 335 a month with all utilities included; the only downside is I'd have to do my laundry at the laundromat half a block away.

On an unrelated note, I need to dye my hair tonight. I've got some pretty bad roots going on.

As it turns out, I stuck to the plan today and lazed out for a good five hours before getting out of the house. Right now I'm at the Coffee Tree, lazing out with clothes on. I've got a stew on at home; Tomoko-san from work gave me several pounds of venison her friend gave her, so I'm doing something nice for when Diane comes home from a Saturday night as a restaurant employee. I predict, using my own experience, she will want something that requires little effort to eat, served in a bowl.

I browned off some diced up hindquarter, and now it's simmering in some of the chicken stock I made last weekend (yielded three gallons! I love my big pot!) with some chili de arbol, bay, black pepper, and a cinnamon stick. I know, it's pretty wild. I'm an amateur as far as cooking is concerned, at least compared to most professionals I've met, but braised items and stews are something I feel like I've got under my belt. Sometimes, all I want is beef stew, simmered in brown stock with some mirepoix, a straight-up tribute to a single, perfect flavor. But I also love chili, curry, Indian stews with lemongrass, and sometimes complexity is a good thing. The point I'm trying to make is that once you master the basic cooking techniques such as stewing a piece of meat until it's tender, then you can start screwing around with exotic ingredients, finding out what compliments what, what's exotic and intriguing and what's really fucking awful. Yuzu, chipotles, wakame, and tobiko are all good things, but pretty awful if used by someone who's just amused at their rarity. Anyway, I'll probably finish this off with some vegetables, and maybe some Cambodian chili powder.

Speaking of exotics, we've got a new dish at work that's rather impressed me, a sauteed (!) monkfish, dusted in togarashi and set atop dashi with miso, containing udon noodles, tofu, shiitake mushrooms, and edamame. It's garnished with daikon radish and scallions, and red tobiko caviar. It's absolutely delicious. I complain a lot about doing the whole Asian fusion deal, food that sometimes comes across to me as tasteless, but every once in awhile Soba serves some honestly good cuisine. Tempura lobster tails with strawberry sauce aside, as well as the fact that most of our food is basically French with added ginger, we have some solid stuff, and higher than usual standards. It's just that I dislike the corporate feel of working there sometimes, and... I don't know. I want to do French. I want, badly, to make cassoulet and boeuf bourguignon, and to serve crafty charcuterie items to the people. And I would like to work with some mature people who respect food.

I've got to move out of my apartment by June 28th. Did I mention that? I'm trying to look for someplace cheaper, maybe or maybe not in the same area. I imagine I'll still be at Soba around then, but I'd be lying if I said I had a big commitment to the place. I definitely have no problem with staying in Pittsburgh. This city is absolutely beautiful, and as cheesy as it sounds, I feel like I'm a part of it when I walk around the Strip, or downtown, or when I sit in the Coffee Tree, listening to the espresso machines and coffee grinders, and grad students working feverishly on their laptops.

I'd better get moving so I can buy some turnips.

Seventh day in a row. I can't wait to have Saturday and Sunday off. That's all I can really say right now--I'm looking forward so much to sleeping for 14 hours straight, lazing around in my apartment, maybe doing venison chops with mashed potatoes, asparagus and a nice brown sauce, but otherwise shirking all possible responsibility for two full days. Next week is even better: I've got a Friday and Saturday off.

On the 20th of next month, I'm going to be in Austin, and staying until the 26th. I want to get down to Houston somehow to see people, but I'm not sure how that's going to work out yet. In any case, if you're in the area of, say, Texas in a month, give me a call.

So, not much is new. I've been doing a lot of cooking, that's all. I made empanadas last night. I don't really feel like writing about it now, but I'll do that and put up pictures later.

A band on Myspace asked if I wanted to audition as a vocalist, I think I'm going to do it. They're pretty good.

every drop of flame

So I'm sitting in Crazy Mocha, post-winter experience. The cold really is pretty wild--to witness the things that happen to the environment at -18 wind chill are pretty amazing--but it's not really that bad if you keep everything covered up. I suppose my eyelids feel pretty cold after walking around, since that's the only part of my body that was exposed.

I've been cutting back a bit on coffee. Yes, me. I've decided to continue drinking awful amounts of it in the morning, on my days off, et cetera, but I no longer drink at work. There's some clarity of mind to be had from avoiding overcaffeination on the line, and I enjoy the ability to cook a la carte for a 40-person party calmly, speaking the usual profanities sotto voce rather than shouting them.

So I've got to go and get a few groceries. The store is roughly half a mile--it's close to where I work, and I walk that far every day. But it's twelve degrees, and the wind chill is four below. I don't really know what that's going to feel like. It's colder than the walk-in freezer. Surely, at that temperature, your spit will bounce.

You know how, back in Texas, we'd get storm warnings for various counties every once in awhile? You know, during hurricane season? This is, I suppose, what happens up here:

BITTER ARCTIC AIR MOVING ACROSS THE OHIO VALLEY TODAY INTO TUESDAY COMBINED WITH BRISK WINDS WILL PRODUCE WIND CHILLS OF 10 BELOW TO 20 BELOW ZERO.

A WIND CHILL ADVISORY MEANS THAT VERY COLD AIR AND STRONG WINDS WILL COMBINE TO GENERATE LOW WIND CHILLS. THIS WILL RESULT IN FROST BITE AND LEAD TO HYPOTHERMIA IF PRECAUTIONS ARE NOT TAKEN. IF YOU MUST VENTURE OUTDOORS... MAKE SURE YOU WEAR LAYERS OF CLOTHING ALONG WITH A HAT AND GLOVES.

I mean, they even say "bitter". That's not even a reasonable adjective to use for describing the weather. Can the arctic air be, conversely, sweet or savory?

The only thing comparable to this back home is the warnings they would give about the air quality because of crops being burned in Mexico.

holy hell, it's like two degrees outside

I found a few interesting things in the Strip today, the first being tripe, which I haven't done since back in school, and the second being Polish blood sausage (kiska). The tripe's on the stove right now. It's got to be blanched hard first and then rinsed, and then it's simmered for several hours until it's reached a nice gelatinous texture. The last time I had it was at work, when a co-worker made menudo, and it was way too tough, so I'm going to see if I can't improve on that effort. I'm making something like menudo but I'm probably going to throw in a few fennel bulbs too. If all else fails, the blood sausage is absolutely sublime. I was searching for French boudin noir and ended up finding something like pork sausage bound with beef blood, made by some rural western PA company.

Hopefully the menudo I make will be like most, and cure this stupid head cold I've got. Being sick is horribly annoying.

(edit: holy shit, I spelled menudo wrong. Whatever I was sick with, however, has been cured by the power of beef stomach and blood sausage.)

This pizza's got artichoke hearts, olives, roasted peppers, smoked mozzerella, goat cheese, and prosciutto on it--the sauce, and whole wheat crust, are from scratch.

bury the past, rob us blind, and leave nothing behind

I'm getting ready for a very important scrabble match. I've been reading the dictionary for weeks, building an impenetrable defense of "quarks" and "phlegms". I am unstoppable.

Really though, I'm at the Quiet Storm Coffeehouse on the edge of Garfield, waiting for my opponents. This place is charming, and might actually be worth coming to more often if the coffee didn't taste like old socks. They used to have live music on Fridays and Saturdays, making it one of the only local venues accessible to someone my age, but they quit awhile back for no good reason. It's actually a little awkward sitting in here right now, since the last time I was here was with a photographer I dated for a short period of time, but had absolutely nothing in common with. It was like, I said, "What about Breakfast at Tiffany's?" And she said, "What?"




This is such a hipster joint, but it's so out of place. I mean, it's really in a bad neighborhood.

It feels good to be working out regularly again. I mean that in a sort of mentally fulfilling way, since in reality my whole body hurts right now. But I feel pretty good, and my incline bench is, like, 205. That makes me a man, right?

Check this shit out:

We roasted a pig's heart. It was awesome--you stuff the ventricles with onions and herbs. The meal, of course, holds endless potential for puns.

mmm, carrot cake cupcake.

yargh!

Tired of being busy. Isn't January supposed to be a slow month? Saturday, we did 140 people between five and 9:30, when we sat our last table. We sold 77 ten year anniversary menus. My whole body hurts. And just when I start to lose it, ranting about needing a vacation, I find myself really enjoying working saute on a busy Monday night. There's got to be something wrong with me.

Speaking of vacations, I've almost worked at Soba for a year. And once I hit that milestone, I get five days of paid vacation! Literally, last night was the first time I ever read the corporate employees' handbook. I didn't really even know it existed.

In any case, it's wok tonight, and the stove again tomorrow, and then two days off. I'm going to eat and cook and sleep, and maybe go to the art museum. The only responsible thing I have planned is to send in my rent. Oh, and scrabble tomorrow.

I need to go to the coffeehouse more often, it's the only time I ever write.

~kickass

love!

I don't know if I wrote about this recently, but I had a muffalletta last week at a place in the Strip called Cafe Richard that was like a message from God, saying, "You always knew I was by your side." I ignored that--it was just the olives and pesto talking--but for anyone who has ever read this blog, it is reason to come to Pittsburgh. I strongly feel like a better muffaletta couldn't be had in New Orleans. Then again, maybe I'm just longing for a trip to Louisiana. I also made beignets last week at the restaurant (where else can I use a commercial deep fryer for them? I don't even have a dutch oven!).

I'm sitting inside Crazy Mocha in Oakland right now with my laptop, coffee at my left and courier bag laced with band names and political motifs at my right. I feel like a real live hipster, and I'm even dressed like one--Chucks, hoodie, artsy t-shirt. But even if I am a hipster doofus, I do maintain that my credentials are in order. I'm not a wannabe socialist going to a liberal arts college on my parents' money. I'm a hard-working scenester, damn it, and I eat meat!

I'm buying a pig's heart today, after I make another enlightenment to Sandwich Nirvana. Tonight, Diane (this girl I'm dating, who might be awesome, verdict's still out) and I will trim it, stuff its arteries with herb butter, and then roast it, in order to practice for the Valentine's Day feast we'd planned. I really don't know what to expect. I mean, chicken hearts are good, but that's about as far as I've ever gone. What if it's tough? Would it be better braised? It makes me kind of sad that we didn't do more crazy shit like this at the school, not just classical French that everyone's eaten like fucking Tournedos Rossini, but more tripe and kidneys and calves feet and... rillettes. We never even made rillettes. That could be a good book title.

On that same subject, Wholey's in the Strip rocks. Aside from being a famous fish market, their meat department is noteworthy as well for its wide selection of, well... interesting items. They have tripe of several varieties, beef liver, lamb kidneys, pigs feet, hearts, et cetera, but they even freaked me out a bit the other day when, in the "pig parts" section, there was a whole pig's head, wrapped up on top of a little Styrofoam tray, right next to the pork chops. I considered buying it, though even I don't have any recipes for the whole damn head, but then I realized my freezer is already chock full of oxtails and chicken stock.

I don't really want to go back to work tomorrow. Why must life be such a pressing issue? I love all the hard work, the food, clatter of pans and hot sizzle platters and wok tools, but damn is it hard to get time to myself! I'm a workaholic. Someone told me the other night that maybe I should just take it the fuck easy every once in awhile, and I suppose that's a good idea. When I'm not working, I kill myself at the gym and then feel lethargic the next day from muscle soreness. I'd love to take a vacation, and I'm really due to take another trip down South, but I kind of want to just escape to some foreign city by myself sometime, too. Just up and fly to Seattle or New York one Tuesday morning.

Another reason to come to Pittsburgh, and also fitting in with the hipster thing: CoCo's Cupcake Cafe. A few doors down from Soba on Ellsworth, the place recently opened up and is trying to make cupcakes a lifestyle, sort of a revolutionary movement. Of course they're immersed in the yuppie organic slow food thing that people like me both appreciate and get really pissed off about, but fuck those cupcakes are good. They really are made right from scratch, down to the very, very authentically made buttercream. They've got a few different kinds every day with catchy names like "The Audrey" or "The Ellsworth", and the place has become my new favorite place to go before--and amazingly, after work. CoCo's is the only bakery that I've ever known to be open until 12:30 in the morning on Friday and Saturday nights, and a chocolate cupcake with buttercream icing and little dried red currants on the top can be an uplifting thing for a burned out line cook from down the street. So, embrace the cupcake lifestyle with me!

I'm off to go get a sandwich, bitches.

I love life.

In the past three days, I have cooked over 160 filets. Only one of them was sent back. Soba's ten year anniversary menu is trying to destroy me, but I won't let it, because I am a huge badass.

I am, however, very badly burned all over my hands and arms, and exhausted. Tomorrow I'm going to show up ridiculously early again, cut up two 50-pound cases of potatoes, and cook some very, very nice food. Then I've got two beautiful days off in a row.

It's pretty nice to not have a big, clunky PC making noise in my apartment anymore, though it has made me more conscious of my refridgerator's ancient compressor. I'm slowly parting it out on craigslist (a very helpful resource right now, since I've got only a few dollars to my name due to the break in the pay period for the new year), so hopefully I'll have the whole machine out of here soon. I don't know why, but it's just nice to think that I don't have too much stuff bogging my life down--if, and probably when I move out of here in the summer, I don't want to haul tons of shit around. Last time around, every one of my material possessions fit into a Plymouth Acclaim.

Actually, now that I think about it, it's really crazy to think it's January already, and my lease on my first apartment will be up in five months or so.

Well, all has returned to normal around here. Bills paid, I was somehow left with an exorbitant amount of money in the bank this month, so, I bought a computer. One of those new-fangled laptop computers, and with Windows XP on it, too! Apparently I can take this computer anywhere I want to, unfold it, and use it just like my old one, which lies sadly disassembled on the floor. For those who didn't know, the old machine turned off and didn't turn back on sometime on Christmas Eve.

Sterling called me the other day at work at asked if I was in Austin to visit, or if I had already left. I do remember, some time ago, mentioning to several people down South that I'd try to visit in January, maybe after the New Years' Eve four course tasting menu had been dealt with. Unfortunately, that just never materialized. While most other restaurants are cutting labor and shortening their menus for the slow season, we're just about to get our asses kicked a little bit harder than last time. A ten day festival with three special tasting menus, commemorating Soba's ten year anniversary, as well a Chinese New Year menu, and then Valentine's Day, is very near. The bottom line is, maybe after February. I miss all of you dearly, but I've just got too many steaks in the oven right now.

The New Years' Eve event, by the way, was an incredible success. We did 182 covers, mostly of the special menus, and without too many problems. My most fond memory is before service, at one in the afternoon, when we all went out to the bar to discuss our game plan. Everyone was very grave, speaking in low voices, still hoarse from the previous Saturday night of service, about "having enough pea shoots and taro chips," and "the Sri Lankan potato soup, what will be the garnish for that?" as if we were preparing to go into battle. Sauces were heated, carrots were julienned, and rice was cooked off. I may have eaten a piece of pizza. My life, friends, is a very serious affair.

I have a horrible laceration on my left hand, below the thumb. I'll not go into great detail or put up any photographs, but let's just say, for sake of awareness, that you should never throw away the lid to a can unless you put it inside the empty can. I spent two hours of service Saturday night at Shadyside Hospital getting stitches because I was sliced open like a soggy baguette while taking out the trash. I then left the hospital, stopped in at the Coffee Tree on Walnut for a hot Americano, dirty chef's whites, bandaged hand and all, and headed back to work.

I must stop here, but I will say that this laptop I've got is truly awesome. And it should be, especially since I am absolutely fucking broke now!

More later, on oxtail stew!