Thursday, April 12, 2012
Tuesday, April 10, 2012
circus lion
I'm struggling.Which is why I'm so happy this exists....Minchin is marvelous. xo.
- Sometimes when I do this thing—this blogging about my life—and
I'm grasping for words to write, I start to get anxious or feel guilty
or a combination of both. Today is one of those days, so instead of
uselessly kicking at those feelings I'm just going to let it be and
admit that I'm having a bad day. Tomorrow could be different or more of
the same, but I'll deal with it when it happens.
Monday, April 09, 2012
Sunday, April 08, 2012
Saturday, March 31, 2012
North Beach-y
Always something to think about. Today, I met up with my pal who is the pastry chef at the P3 location to hang out. Truth be told, I was supposed to meet she and Shaggy at the farmer's market at 11am to see their demo, but it was grey and rainy this morning, and so I slept in instead But, in the spirit of trying not to be a shut-in, I headed into the City to meet up with Suze after she was done.
It was the first visit to that location now that CG was there. Luckily (I suppose) I was immediately trundled in front of the GM of the location, who is...well, my mother would call him a pistol. Very gregarious, very self important, of a spanish descent. He was exceedingly complimentary to me, so much so that once again, it struck me that no one eats this food, they all just look at it. Whatever, though, if he wants to blow smoke up my skirt, then so be it. CG was tucked away in a corner, back to me, butchering out fish, totally working with the intensity I remember - or appearing to. He looked over his shoulder, I met his eye, nodded, and he glared.
Yeah, just like the old days. So, then I camped out at the cafe counter and waited for Suze while watching them all go through their paces. I chatted with a server who had transferred there from 101 (my location) and then with the Chef de Cuisine, who totally blew me off initially (when he reached past me to get a straw, I was about to say hi, but he stared through me so I kept mum), then later, after seeing everyone else greet and talk to me, at least manned up and made a point to say hi. Which was cool, though I couldn't help but rub a little salt in his wound and give him a hard time when he admitted he hadn't recognized me at first. Clearly though, everyone seemed really over the moon with me. Which is weird, since I'm about 2 weeks from jumping ship. Ultimately, CG did come out of the kitchen to say hi, he stood by (I remained seated) we chatted briefly, small talk, and then he returned to his work.
It's odd, and yet somewhat comforting to not have it have be crazy at all - since I know not everyone gets to end relationships being friends or even civil. So, if this is how it ends up, then I'm fine with it. True, I miss working in the kitchen with him, but it's his level of commitment, his skill and intensity, and not the fucking headcase stuff that I miss.
The reality of the situation, for me, is that I don't get the one without the other. So. Yeah. Then, Suse and I went to Macy's to see an old coworker of hers, who now owns her own chocolate company, do a demo making Brazillian truffles. It was kind of dull, but good from a networking standpoint - or would have been if I didn't have plans to leave town shortly. It's amazing to me how frigging social Suze is though - it's a skill I'm just not practiced in, though supposedly it runs in my veins (personally, I believe my brother M got the lion's share of that DNA, but whatever) as my father was quite the crowd pleaser.
Anyway, Macy's is in the part of SF that I never, ever, traverse: the shopping zone. With Cartier, Neiman-Marcus, Prada stores, all that. That frigging Macy's and the thousands of people milling about - it was like a crazy anthill. Like one of those weird '50's industrial movies come to life. I got really, really tense in there. I'm not a fan of shopping in general, and feel very out of place in swanky locations like that, and this one, because it's downtown was crawling not just with high-maintenance trophy wives, but international tourists, students with trust funds, and the bridge and tunnel locals. Ack. Could not get out of there quick enough, I literally felt dizzy.I talked Suze out of some crazy idea to go to the Cheesecake Factory (located somewhere within Macy's WTF?) because apparently the driver she has a crush on's brother works there...noooooo. So, off we headed to North Beach (the original plan had been to go to the Mission and visit Tom's cart, but apparently he is in Vegas this week, so no dice) to do a little drinking and noshing. We went to Vesuvio's first, which is just across from the legendary bookstore City Lights (where I usually stop after watching Arsenal matches at Maggie's which is a few blocks up the hill) - and while it was a dive, it was insanely expensive and the staff was pretty cranky.So, not "dive" in a good way, at all.
Now, I get it: working in North Beach is like working in Georgetown, or Pioneer Square, or Times Square, you are gonna get tourists and not a lot of regulars, but damn, that's no reason to be outright jerks. I have had some of the rudest bartenders in my life in this city, and it's really amazing what they get away with. I am not newbie, and yet time and time again, I find myself wondering what the fuck is wrong with me asking for a Jack and diet, or when I can't understand them when they spit out the tab total.
After that, we went down the hill a bit to the Comstock, which is a saloon-themed bar (they even had a live piano player in the mezzanine doing ragtime-y numbers) owned by the Absinthe people, who Suze worked for for 5 years - and she knew a couple of people there. It was empty when we took a seat at the bar, and the bartender was young, but pleasantly friendly. He was fun to watch and occasionally would inadvertently bounce ice cubes out of the drinks he was making - but it was definitely a mixed-drink place, and so he was totally busy, and I actually do kind of like watching good bartenders work.
The bar itself was awesome, lots of restored turn of the century fixtures and the wood bar itself with the old ice-box pull handles, reminded me of the Merchant Cafe in Pioneer Square where Jesse was the bartender for so many years. The Merchant's bar was physically actually even bigger, but still, that same time period, and the Comstock was definitely in better shape We started with a happy hour beer and shot of bourbon, then each had a sarzerac - that had absinthe in it. Then, as we were getting along so well with jared, our bartender, he gave us a mixed drink that I believe he called "Dirty Sand" or something like that - bourbon, citrus, and god knows what else Tasty though. We needed food, so we ordered the house fresh pretzel which was huge, warm, really good (even Suze, who is German and knows of these things, commented on how good it was) and was welcome filler. Most of the conversation seemed to keep coming back to her trying to find out what it would take to get me to stay at the Organic cafe. Yeah. The thing is, as much as I appreciate how much they "love" me, it's not even about that really. I reiterated that I was disappointed in Shaggy being unable to even tell me not only how much my raise would be (she says it'll be to 35k) or when, and that there just was no concrete timeline for ever getting out of that rabbit hole of production baking.
So yeah. We also talked a lot about her and the driver same old stuff. I got a little fidgety. We decided to get a burger, and went to Sam's on Broadway, a complete dump of a spot, which I even said "I dunno, looks kind of sketchy" as she was locking up her bike - and it turned out the cook was outside having a smoke as we were doing that. However, once we got inside - it turned out Anthony Bourdain had put the place on the map last year in his new show "Layovers" or whatever - so a burger and fries with a coke was $9, but I have to say, it was a good burger. And the guy working, seemed really familiar, almost like a character out of a movie, and as Suze chatted with him, we found out he was from Palestine.He was really easygoing, which in that neighborhood has got to be tough, though certainly easier than any job in his homeland. He cheerfully refilled our cokes andeven put Suze's fries back in the fryer after overhearing her tell me she preferred hers more crispy, which was a nice gesture.
Fun spot, though I imagine it gets a bit nuts around the time the bars close. It was only about 7 though, so Suze said there was just one more place she wanted to go - though it turned into two - but ultimately we finished the evening at the Specs Adler, a great little bar off an alley down from Tosca's (just so I remember, should I ever be in that neighborhood again) I really, really, really liked that bar. Divey, like the old Frontier Room in Belltown used to be. Good, even keeled, older guy at the bar - and he didn't even blink when we came in from the rain (there were two torrential downpours) and ordered irish coffees, and they were fantastic. Totally would have spent all night there, had I had more money and not had to work tomorrow.
All, in all, a nice little jaunt, though it was rough having Suze try and get me to stay I...I just don't want to keep treading water, and something has to change; other than offering me a minimal pay increase they can't promise anything else. Suze wants to visit Germany in May, and asked if maybe I couldn't stay around a little longer to work at P3 in her place.
Yeah, that'd be just what I need to do.
It was the first visit to that location now that CG was there. Luckily (I suppose) I was immediately trundled in front of the GM of the location, who is...well, my mother would call him a pistol. Very gregarious, very self important, of a spanish descent. He was exceedingly complimentary to me, so much so that once again, it struck me that no one eats this food, they all just look at it. Whatever, though, if he wants to blow smoke up my skirt, then so be it. CG was tucked away in a corner, back to me, butchering out fish, totally working with the intensity I remember - or appearing to. He looked over his shoulder, I met his eye, nodded, and he glared.
Yeah, just like the old days. So, then I camped out at the cafe counter and waited for Suze while watching them all go through their paces. I chatted with a server who had transferred there from 101 (my location) and then with the Chef de Cuisine, who totally blew me off initially (when he reached past me to get a straw, I was about to say hi, but he stared through me so I kept mum), then later, after seeing everyone else greet and talk to me, at least manned up and made a point to say hi. Which was cool, though I couldn't help but rub a little salt in his wound and give him a hard time when he admitted he hadn't recognized me at first. Clearly though, everyone seemed really over the moon with me. Which is weird, since I'm about 2 weeks from jumping ship. Ultimately, CG did come out of the kitchen to say hi, he stood by (I remained seated) we chatted briefly, small talk, and then he returned to his work.
It's odd, and yet somewhat comforting to not have it have be crazy at all - since I know not everyone gets to end relationships being friends or even civil. So, if this is how it ends up, then I'm fine with it. True, I miss working in the kitchen with him, but it's his level of commitment, his skill and intensity, and not the fucking headcase stuff that I miss.
The reality of the situation, for me, is that I don't get the one without the other. So. Yeah. Then, Suse and I went to Macy's to see an old coworker of hers, who now owns her own chocolate company, do a demo making Brazillian truffles. It was kind of dull, but good from a networking standpoint - or would have been if I didn't have plans to leave town shortly. It's amazing to me how frigging social Suze is though - it's a skill I'm just not practiced in, though supposedly it runs in my veins (personally, I believe my brother M got the lion's share of that DNA, but whatever) as my father was quite the crowd pleaser.
Anyway, Macy's is in the part of SF that I never, ever, traverse: the shopping zone. With Cartier, Neiman-Marcus, Prada stores, all that. That frigging Macy's and the thousands of people milling about - it was like a crazy anthill. Like one of those weird '50's industrial movies come to life. I got really, really tense in there. I'm not a fan of shopping in general, and feel very out of place in swanky locations like that, and this one, because it's downtown was crawling not just with high-maintenance trophy wives, but international tourists, students with trust funds, and the bridge and tunnel locals. Ack. Could not get out of there quick enough, I literally felt dizzy.I talked Suze out of some crazy idea to go to the Cheesecake Factory (located somewhere within Macy's WTF?) because apparently the driver she has a crush on's brother works there...noooooo. So, off we headed to North Beach (the original plan had been to go to the Mission and visit Tom's cart, but apparently he is in Vegas this week, so no dice) to do a little drinking and noshing. We went to Vesuvio's first, which is just across from the legendary bookstore City Lights (where I usually stop after watching Arsenal matches at Maggie's which is a few blocks up the hill) - and while it was a dive, it was insanely expensive and the staff was pretty cranky.So, not "dive" in a good way, at all.
Now, I get it: working in North Beach is like working in Georgetown, or Pioneer Square, or Times Square, you are gonna get tourists and not a lot of regulars, but damn, that's no reason to be outright jerks. I have had some of the rudest bartenders in my life in this city, and it's really amazing what they get away with. I am not newbie, and yet time and time again, I find myself wondering what the fuck is wrong with me asking for a Jack and diet, or when I can't understand them when they spit out the tab total.
The bar itself was awesome, lots of restored turn of the century fixtures and the wood bar itself with the old ice-box pull handles, reminded me of the Merchant Cafe in Pioneer Square where Jesse was the bartender for so many years. The Merchant's bar was physically actually even bigger, but still, that same time period, and the Comstock was definitely in better shape We started with a happy hour beer and shot of bourbon, then each had a sarzerac - that had absinthe in it. Then, as we were getting along so well with jared, our bartender, he gave us a mixed drink that I believe he called "Dirty Sand" or something like that - bourbon, citrus, and god knows what else Tasty though. We needed food, so we ordered the house fresh pretzel which was huge, warm, really good (even Suze, who is German and knows of these things, commented on how good it was) and was welcome filler. Most of the conversation seemed to keep coming back to her trying to find out what it would take to get me to stay at the Organic cafe. Yeah. The thing is, as much as I appreciate how much they "love" me, it's not even about that really. I reiterated that I was disappointed in Shaggy being unable to even tell me not only how much my raise would be (she says it'll be to 35k) or when, and that there just was no concrete timeline for ever getting out of that rabbit hole of production baking.
So yeah. We also talked a lot about her and the driver same old stuff. I got a little fidgety. We decided to get a burger, and went to Sam's on Broadway, a complete dump of a spot, which I even said "I dunno, looks kind of sketchy" as she was locking up her bike - and it turned out the cook was outside having a smoke as we were doing that. However, once we got inside - it turned out Anthony Bourdain had put the place on the map last year in his new show "Layovers" or whatever - so a burger and fries with a coke was $9, but I have to say, it was a good burger. And the guy working, seemed really familiar, almost like a character out of a movie, and as Suze chatted with him, we found out he was from Palestine.He was really easygoing, which in that neighborhood has got to be tough, though certainly easier than any job in his homeland. He cheerfully refilled our cokes andeven put Suze's fries back in the fryer after overhearing her tell me she preferred hers more crispy, which was a nice gesture.
All, in all, a nice little jaunt, though it was rough having Suze try and get me to stay I...I just don't want to keep treading water, and something has to change; other than offering me a minimal pay increase they can't promise anything else. Suze wants to visit Germany in May, and asked if maybe I couldn't stay around a little longer to work at P3 in her place.
Yeah, that'd be just what I need to do.
Thursday, March 29, 2012
hoodies i know and love
| The Daily Show with Jon Stewart | Mon - Thurs 11p / 10c | |||
| C.N.I.: Cable News Investigators - Hoodie Threat | ||||
| ||||
So...here is the part where I emphatically state for the umpteenth time that this country boggles my mind. Its staggering ability to be so divisive and just flat out, ridiculous, is...well, it's enough to make a girl want to figure out a way to live in Brindisi (Italy). Yeah. Where to begin with the hoodie nonsense?
Firstly, I guess, let's start with the part where some jackass white-appearing latino with an inferiority complex (job as a rent-a-cop) kill a black kid in a hoodie with skittles and ice tea. Because he's wearing a hoodie. A hooded sweatshirt.
Now. I am....oh, fine: punk rock. I know people literally, who have been killed WITH their hoodie. The idea that wearing one connotates a gang affiliation, much less a threat is so completely ridiculous to me.
Seriously, I'm gonna venture a really racist idea: I'll bet Zimmerman (Zimmerman? Really? Latino? Huh.) has friend who wear hoodies to soccer practice.
Yep, I said it. Look. When I see a hoodie, I almost always think "straight edge zombie jock who listens to DRI" or, more likely "does that come in my size?"
Because here's the rub RentACop: I own a half dozen hoodies. My mother fucking wears one. You have got to be joking me that it is any sort of defense to use that as a way to profile a threat.
JOCKS. Mormons. Straight Edge Punks. And, yes, I suppose some fucking wannabe rap thugs. But just because you are in Florida (and I am not kidding where this is just one more reason as far as I'm concerned to fucking disavow that whole state. Though the Gainesville Punk rock scene has done the best it possibly can to stand apart from the rednecked and senior masses) does not mean you get to play Cop. Especially when the COPS told you specifically to get the fuck back in your car and NOT PLAY COP.
In your CAR. Holy mother of Sonic Youth. What's saddest about even talking about this, is that once again, I got into a bit of a tete-de-tete with my best friend's husband. We routinely tangle about anything having to do with Reagan (he is an apologist for both Reagan and Bushes) or Clinton (I'm not an apologist, but I'm also not an idiot) ...but he proffered the idea that the rent a cop with the car had been attacked and threatened by the black kid in the hoodie with the skittles and iced tea.
Here's the thing: even if the kid was butch enough to threaten wannabe cop, and even if the kid threw a punch, it does not justify deadly force, especially WHEN YOU ARE A CIVILIAN.
K2(male) who himself has a permit to carry a firearm and a black belt in several martial arts actually started getting puffy chested about this with me. And both me and his mate kept retreating to the final answer: the cops told him to back the fuck up. He did not. He had a car. And a gun. I just cannot for the life of me get over the fact that a black kid, dressed just as one of my drummers (a black 19-year-old male in Maryland) did every day - got shot because he was a "threat" - clearly, the threat was the rent a cop. Recently Zimmerman's lawyer abandoned an interview, and as the saga continues it will be enlightening to see how hoodies are portrayed. K2(male) also went on about the "injuries" Zimmerman sustained, but latest reports show nothing that a good smack in the face with a 6-pack of beer wouldn't do, and worse, he didn't seek medical attention until the next day (so, uh, not crucial, and uhm possibly not attributed to the "altercation") it pains me, because the person putting forth this Devil's advocate standpoint is smart, a holder of 2 college degrees, and a licensed surgical technician, yet the mere idea of someone not being "allowed" to wield deadly force in the possible (not remotely probable, however) face of bodily harm (and not greivious, I mean, how much damage would that can of iced tea do against a gun?) is just another knee-jerk Charlton Heston NRA sort of reaction that concerns me. Smart people shouldn't constantly be assuming the worst. The worst case is what the MEDIA wants you to believe. So you'll stay in your house, eat your cocoa puffs and go to work. Argh. He's better than that. It pains me to type this.
I just don't get how it's a threat to anyone? Who sees a hooded sweatshirt and panics? I mean, other than really geeky Nintendo fanboys?
I have two favorite hoodies currently: my WSU beat to shit grey one, my newest acquisition the navy Arsenal one and the Bambix number (also grey) given to me by Adam. Additonally, I love my Jets to Brazil hoodie, and proudly own a Keith Haring "Barking Dog" one as well. I'd be proud to be shot in it.
Americans. WTF?
Some Tim might help:
Wednesday, March 28, 2012
Tuesday, March 27, 2012
Then, there is the amazing fact that these guys:
I listen to a alot of podcasts (I'm kinda geeky that way) and there are four pods about Arsenal (well, three are Arsenal specific, one is a general football one) that I never miss, and actually, quite look forward to. I've been meaning to do a bit of an appreciation post about them for some time now. The one I've listened to the longest is Arsecast. Created by the delightful Arseblog ( http://arseblog.com/ ) it's a nice balance of funny, and informative. Arseblog is Irish, has a great radio voice, does entertaining impersonations/characterizations of players and has been following Arsenal for a long time. He structures the show well, interspersing his own commentary on the current state of the team with guests, and humorous interludes (one of my all time favorites was Silvestre with the disco music, and of course the brooding Arshavin). He has a great variety of guests who he interviews well, creative questions and honest reactions.
The gold standard of Arsenal podcasts (and the one I look forward to the most every week, and dread the off season when they break) is "The Tuesday Club" (formerly Up For Grabs) which features Alan Davies, Ian Stone, Tayo Popoola, and Keith Dover. Alan Davies is a well-known comedian in Britain (Jonathan Creek, QI, Bob & Rose, Whites) and Stone is a comedian as well as radio personality. Tayo is a dj, and Dover is a former comedian who, if their banter is to be believed, is now mostly employed as a carpenter. All of them sit together in the same section of the stands at the Emirates, and as well at Highbury before. All have been following the team for decades, and their banter is hilarious, even when you know very little about the (or any, really) team. I will admit, it took repeated listens to really appreciate the 'cast. They tend to talk over one another, and with the accents, it can get hectic until you are familiar with their voices and the rhythm of the show. The pod started just after I started following Arsenal, so it is especially close to my heart because every game they have commented on is one I've followed. I've learned a lot about the history, and their banter about the other sides we play is actually quite helpful as well, and has keyed me into players & managers I might not have noticed otherwise. Mostly though, it's just laugh-out-loud funny, often because they don't hesitate to take the piss out of each other, as well as the team. After a horrible loss or any time where Alan is raging is especially fun. He was also quite amazing after Rambo's injury at Stoke. Anyway, highly recommend, funniest of the bunch. Also, I once spotted Tayo on the street in SF, tweeted it, and he returned my tweet. (Shameless fangirling portion of the roundup). I am also especially fond of their constant search for new songs, and the discovery of "Alex Dimitri Sibg Billong" (check a taste here:
"Footballastically Arsenal" is the pod that replaced "Up For Grabs" on the "network" that produces it, and is hosted by Boyd Hilton, Dermot O’Leary and Dan Baldwin, who are all members of Brit media and sit together at the Club level at the Emirates. Their banter is a little more flash, and a little more arch, but still is entertaining. They have also had guests, though they don't typically do straight up interviews, it's more like a round table of comments. I like it, but tend not to get as much information out of it so much as casual updates on general team happenings. Lately they've been taking digs at TTC, and it's coming off as very sour grapes, which is a shame.They can often get sidetracked into personal B-list celebrity gossip, which isn't quite as entertaining as actual footy or better yet Arsenal gossip. But still, the one I listen to after the others.
Finally, the pod that has become my Continuing Education Course in world football, "The Football Ramble". Love, love, LOVE this podcast.It covers not just the Premiere League, but, the SPL, La Ligua, League 1, and Series A, with looks at other leagues worldwide and various cups and championships. Aside from the funny and interesting commentary, there is "Diego Corner" a weekly check-in with everyone's favorite Argentinian footy legend, and the profiles that they do of historic players. Also, "Going for Gloald" where the guys try to guess the identity of a player based on clues. This podcast has improved my understanding of the game and my interest in all facets of it. A lot of fun and really unpretentious, totally accessible for anyone interested in the Beautiful Game's wide reach.
Really good stuff if you have the time.
Ok, this has become quite long. Next time, a hoodie appreciation post.
Thursday, March 22, 2012
Tim Time
Wednesday, March 21, 2012
Saturday, March 17, 2012
Irish-y
Saturday, March 10, 2012
Ch-ch-changes...
Holy cow, what a cliche. However, cliches exist for a reason, and therefore: boom, it's time to take the show back on the road...Home. My California Sabbatical has come to a bit of an anti-climactic end, but an end nonetheless.
I'm not sure what exactly I expected to have happen here in the Bay Area, but it wasn't quite this. I took a big risk getting out of the kitchen, to take the job with LBF, and to have lived here and only worked in one actual restaurant is probably a waste of opportunity, but I wanted to (as usual) to expand my experience and to learn new stuff, and that, I did in spades.Loads of challenges and changes both career-wise and personally, and most of the School Of Hard Knocks variety, but you know what? I'll take it.
Not that I have a choice.
Returning to Seattle is a big deal for me, I left the city because I simply was tired of feeling like everyone knew me wherever I went, that I'd be unable to restart my life in the way that I wanted. Fresno seemed like a desperate choice, but ultimately did what I needed. I was surrounded by my closest friends, who allowed me time and space to gather myself, to sort through so many years of emotions and ideas. What seemed like running away from a failure gradually became a discovery. Sometimes when I think about how things went - about pulling myself out of a 3 month nosedive where I refused to let go of the past, which only led to more pain and anguish - until I finally did let it go. Gradually, as I built a new life, met new people who didn't know me as anything other than an old friend of K's, it was a full-on epiphany: I was who I was right then, at that moment. Not "used to be in a band", "works in reprographics" or whatever. It felt shiny and new and exactly what I wanted in that moment.
I decided I wanted to be a chef, enrolled in school, got a job in the kitchen of a children's shelter, and started doing what needed to be done, for myself. What is always amazing to me, is how things fall into place once you make that choice, that choice to do something. I had a really strict schedule in the first months of school, I'd go to school from 7am to noon, then have to be at the shelter by 2:30 and we'd prepare dinners, serve and clean up, and I'd typically get home by 7:30 or 8, in time to sometimes join K2 for dinner, sometimes be a little late, but almost always be able to hang out and chat about the day and compare notes, and then it was homework and to bed. I did that for 6 months, and worked with this amazing older Latina, Nina, who was the most feisty and yet gentle person I'd ever met. At the same time, I was practicing meditation, reading Siddhartha, and even using my work breaks to sit in a quiet corner of the yard outside the dining area to simply sit, quietly. It was so easy to have discipline then. I definitely seem to flourish when I have challenges and goals (I suppose maybe everyone does? though I suppose there are those out there who do just fine treading water, but as I've found in the last year, it doesn't do me much good). When I was offered the job at Upstairs Downtown (names are being used now, because I'm not actively employed by these places anymore, which I think is what yr supposed to do) it was a mindblowing thing. It was the only place in town doing the kind of food I wanted to do (previous journal entries detail that) and it was as close as I would get to the Holy Grails of Chez Panisse and French Laundry, so to be asked to work there was a huge victory. Looking back, what seemed at the time to be great luck, was, actually as CG said: I had "made this happen", by singling myself out to him and Sharon; and by being willing and able thanks, again, to the amazing compassion of K2, who allowed me to live with them rent-free, thus making it possible to take a full time job that only paid $8/hr so that I could get real skills in a kitchen. A kitchen working with amazing product and people who genuinely were passionate about what they did. Never would have been able to accept that job had I actually had to pay rent.
The staff of UD were possibly the most dysfunctional family I have ever....god, what word could I use to describe it? Upstairs was like being Alice in Wonderland (shit, another CG metaphor, which I only realized lately that he has used throughout my career) - an amazing refurbished warehouse in downtown Fresno, with a weekly changing menu, shopping twice a week at the Farmer's markets for produce pretty much exclusively, and getting out proteins and other goods from various specialty outlets. The only thing we got from Sysco were cleaning supplies and paper products. The interpersonal drama though, was epic, and the crazy manic-depressive co-dependent-Fu that went on left me with bruises and burns on my body and my psyche, but in the end, a huge learning curve that paid off in little ol' Fresno.
I had to play a waiting game, among others, in order to get to be the pantry chef, but once I did, the amount of freedom I had was insane, and the menu items I tried to create there allowed me to learn so many things. Not to mention actually being taught to butcher out lamb, ducks, and trim filets from beef. They let me braise whole calamari for a salad, and it was my idea. Even to the point of simply being able to understand the difference between grassfed beef, or freshly picked lettuces (seriously, it's a huge thing, fresh lettuce is so wonderful, to be able to make salads every day with those kinds of ingredients is a gift). The magic of duck cracklings, the zen of brulees, and the adrenalin rush of a la minute souffle service. Sadly, I let my emotions get the better of me, and bailed sooner than I should have.Culinary school at the same time as working at Upstairs gave me even more cache - all my instructors knew where I worked, and they commented on my dishes and my plating all the time.Even my practical, my final dish was late, but scored so high in all other categories that I finished top of my class in spite of the time penalty. School was such a good time, there was not a single day that I ever didn't want to go. That's a rare feeling, one that I won't ever forget.
I moved to a more "normal" restaurant, the brand new "5" a tuscan italian spot that got lots of press in Fresno, where, though I was hired as an assistant, I ended up being the pastry chef in less than 90 days when the barbie doll they initially hired couldn't take the day to day drudgery. I had a lot of fun at 5, and made friends I still have, including Carlos, Taylor, and Brett. Sure, I still keep in touch with Xtian, who was a server at Upstairs, who was the first person I ever texted, and is still a pal today - so many esoteric conversations in such unlikely places with him. From 5 to Lantana, another new build-out in the heavily douche-infested north end of Fresno. Truly a magic time, being there, though like all magic, when you find out it's a trick, you're kinda bummed. Ray was the Exec, I was the Pastry Chef and we had a sommelier who had worked at Chateau Marmot in LA and were even sent to LA to the owners favorite restaurants to find out what they wanted. In fact she took us a second time to do lunch spots in LA as well, which is how I came to actually eat a club sandwich in Barneys in Beverly Hills.
Man, it's been a busy 8 years. Ray and I bonding over the drive to Oakland to buy equipment for "our" restaurant, how often do you get to do that? How often when you are just a year out of school? Such a crazy fun front of house, we ran it like a real resto too, doing lineups and staff meals and....
This is a lot. I am realizing that there were a lot of details I didn't get down, even with the plethora of posts. It's just this whole California chapter is coming to a close, and i'm realizing that it's really more than just a chapter, it is, in fact, a volume on it's own. Like DC, but with so much more personal growth and self-awareness. I suppose that's simply due mostly to being older. Sometimes I feel like nothing's really happened, but when I look at it all on paper (still haven't mentioned the stage at Max's ((though there is an entry for that)) Pangea, or working for Love & Garlic, Cracked Pepper for Vatche or at Campagnia while waiting for Pangea to open, to LBF and Roli, and then finally to Latest Place Organic) so much to think about, to reflect on. So many people so many, varied specific experiences and fun stuff. Aside from work, there was culinary school hijinks, dates that couldn't see, river rafting, wine tasting, actual social party events with actual people who do social things, finding Arsenal, even getting free tickets to a Giants game from a cop on my 3rd day doing the cart at the stadium. Cool stuff. Lots of stuff.
Eight simple weeks, and a new chapter in Seattle begins, and while I'm nervous about all the usual things, I'm also, as I was when I returned from Eugene in '94, stoked. I'm ready to have old friends close again, to have family, to make new friends, to be in a place where people have memories of me (good, or bad) and I of them. There is the whole new world of possibility with smrge, to be explored as well.
I return with a new way of seeing the world, in knowing more about what makes me happy, and as the ever-wise Mr Tweedy says, better able to know what to care about, what's really important.
As stoked as I am to start again, it will tougher and bittersweet not having Scraps with me - this will be the first move I've made in 18 years without her. Still miss you like crazy everyday, Arugula.
I'm not sure what exactly I expected to have happen here in the Bay Area, but it wasn't quite this. I took a big risk getting out of the kitchen, to take the job with LBF, and to have lived here and only worked in one actual restaurant is probably a waste of opportunity, but I wanted to (as usual) to expand my experience and to learn new stuff, and that, I did in spades.Loads of challenges and changes both career-wise and personally, and most of the School Of Hard Knocks variety, but you know what? I'll take it.
Not that I have a choice.
Returning to Seattle is a big deal for me, I left the city because I simply was tired of feeling like everyone knew me wherever I went, that I'd be unable to restart my life in the way that I wanted. Fresno seemed like a desperate choice, but ultimately did what I needed. I was surrounded by my closest friends, who allowed me time and space to gather myself, to sort through so many years of emotions and ideas. What seemed like running away from a failure gradually became a discovery. Sometimes when I think about how things went - about pulling myself out of a 3 month nosedive where I refused to let go of the past, which only led to more pain and anguish - until I finally did let it go. Gradually, as I built a new life, met new people who didn't know me as anything other than an old friend of K's, it was a full-on epiphany: I was who I was right then, at that moment. Not "used to be in a band", "works in reprographics" or whatever. It felt shiny and new and exactly what I wanted in that moment.
I decided I wanted to be a chef, enrolled in school, got a job in the kitchen of a children's shelter, and started doing what needed to be done, for myself. What is always amazing to me, is how things fall into place once you make that choice, that choice to do something. I had a really strict schedule in the first months of school, I'd go to school from 7am to noon, then have to be at the shelter by 2:30 and we'd prepare dinners, serve and clean up, and I'd typically get home by 7:30 or 8, in time to sometimes join K2 for dinner, sometimes be a little late, but almost always be able to hang out and chat about the day and compare notes, and then it was homework and to bed. I did that for 6 months, and worked with this amazing older Latina, Nina, who was the most feisty and yet gentle person I'd ever met. At the same time, I was practicing meditation, reading Siddhartha, and even using my work breaks to sit in a quiet corner of the yard outside the dining area to simply sit, quietly. It was so easy to have discipline then. I definitely seem to flourish when I have challenges and goals (I suppose maybe everyone does? though I suppose there are those out there who do just fine treading water, but as I've found in the last year, it doesn't do me much good). When I was offered the job at Upstairs Downtown (names are being used now, because I'm not actively employed by these places anymore, which I think is what yr supposed to do) it was a mindblowing thing. It was the only place in town doing the kind of food I wanted to do (previous journal entries detail that) and it was as close as I would get to the Holy Grails of Chez Panisse and French Laundry, so to be asked to work there was a huge victory. Looking back, what seemed at the time to be great luck, was, actually as CG said: I had "made this happen", by singling myself out to him and Sharon; and by being willing and able thanks, again, to the amazing compassion of K2, who allowed me to live with them rent-free, thus making it possible to take a full time job that only paid $8/hr so that I could get real skills in a kitchen. A kitchen working with amazing product and people who genuinely were passionate about what they did. Never would have been able to accept that job had I actually had to pay rent.
The staff of UD were possibly the most dysfunctional family I have ever....god, what word could I use to describe it? Upstairs was like being Alice in Wonderland (shit, another CG metaphor, which I only realized lately that he has used throughout my career) - an amazing refurbished warehouse in downtown Fresno, with a weekly changing menu, shopping twice a week at the Farmer's markets for produce pretty much exclusively, and getting out proteins and other goods from various specialty outlets. The only thing we got from Sysco were cleaning supplies and paper products. The interpersonal drama though, was epic, and the crazy manic-depressive co-dependent-Fu that went on left me with bruises and burns on my body and my psyche, but in the end, a huge learning curve that paid off in little ol' Fresno.
I had to play a waiting game, among others, in order to get to be the pantry chef, but once I did, the amount of freedom I had was insane, and the menu items I tried to create there allowed me to learn so many things. Not to mention actually being taught to butcher out lamb, ducks, and trim filets from beef. They let me braise whole calamari for a salad, and it was my idea. Even to the point of simply being able to understand the difference between grassfed beef, or freshly picked lettuces (seriously, it's a huge thing, fresh lettuce is so wonderful, to be able to make salads every day with those kinds of ingredients is a gift). The magic of duck cracklings, the zen of brulees, and the adrenalin rush of a la minute souffle service. Sadly, I let my emotions get the better of me, and bailed sooner than I should have.Culinary school at the same time as working at Upstairs gave me even more cache - all my instructors knew where I worked, and they commented on my dishes and my plating all the time.Even my practical, my final dish was late, but scored so high in all other categories that I finished top of my class in spite of the time penalty. School was such a good time, there was not a single day that I ever didn't want to go. That's a rare feeling, one that I won't ever forget.
I moved to a more "normal" restaurant, the brand new "5" a tuscan italian spot that got lots of press in Fresno, where, though I was hired as an assistant, I ended up being the pastry chef in less than 90 days when the barbie doll they initially hired couldn't take the day to day drudgery. I had a lot of fun at 5, and made friends I still have, including Carlos, Taylor, and Brett. Sure, I still keep in touch with Xtian, who was a server at Upstairs, who was the first person I ever texted, and is still a pal today - so many esoteric conversations in such unlikely places with him. From 5 to Lantana, another new build-out in the heavily douche-infested north end of Fresno. Truly a magic time, being there, though like all magic, when you find out it's a trick, you're kinda bummed. Ray was the Exec, I was the Pastry Chef and we had a sommelier who had worked at Chateau Marmot in LA and were even sent to LA to the owners favorite restaurants to find out what they wanted. In fact she took us a second time to do lunch spots in LA as well, which is how I came to actually eat a club sandwich in Barneys in Beverly Hills.
Man, it's been a busy 8 years. Ray and I bonding over the drive to Oakland to buy equipment for "our" restaurant, how often do you get to do that? How often when you are just a year out of school? Such a crazy fun front of house, we ran it like a real resto too, doing lineups and staff meals and....
This is a lot. I am realizing that there were a lot of details I didn't get down, even with the plethora of posts. It's just this whole California chapter is coming to a close, and i'm realizing that it's really more than just a chapter, it is, in fact, a volume on it's own. Like DC, but with so much more personal growth and self-awareness. I suppose that's simply due mostly to being older. Sometimes I feel like nothing's really happened, but when I look at it all on paper (still haven't mentioned the stage at Max's ((though there is an entry for that)) Pangea, or working for Love & Garlic, Cracked Pepper for Vatche or at Campagnia while waiting for Pangea to open, to LBF and Roli, and then finally to Latest Place Organic) so much to think about, to reflect on. So many people so many, varied specific experiences and fun stuff. Aside from work, there was culinary school hijinks, dates that couldn't see, river rafting, wine tasting, actual social party events with actual people who do social things, finding Arsenal, even getting free tickets to a Giants game from a cop on my 3rd day doing the cart at the stadium. Cool stuff. Lots of stuff.
Eight simple weeks, and a new chapter in Seattle begins, and while I'm nervous about all the usual things, I'm also, as I was when I returned from Eugene in '94, stoked. I'm ready to have old friends close again, to have family, to make new friends, to be in a place where people have memories of me (good, or bad) and I of them. There is the whole new world of possibility with smrge, to be explored as well.
I return with a new way of seeing the world, in knowing more about what makes me happy, and as the ever-wise Mr Tweedy says, better able to know what to care about, what's really important.
As stoked as I am to start again, it will tougher and bittersweet not having Scraps with me - this will be the first move I've made in 18 years without her. Still miss you like crazy everyday, Arugula.
Wednesday, March 07, 2012
week in review...
Clearly, Rome is falling. I dunno what's worse: 24 hour access to as many fancy cupcakes as you can afford/are in the dispenser or the fact that calling it an "ATM" is basically equating cupcakes to money, which means I print money for a living, which means....wait, this might not be so bad...;)
“The players put in a faultless performance, with fantastic spirit and you can only congratulate the whole team. It is a night when players can be proud to play for this Club. The team have grown together. Hopefully from here we can finish the season in a strong way.” - Arsene Wenger on beating Milan 3-0
Meanwhile, today I was never prouder to be a Gooner. Great match against Inter today, clean sheet (!!!) and we only missed out on moving to the Quarters of CL due to goal differential. Great game, and honestly, to have been watching TR7 for almost 5 years now, and see him score two games in a row? The second of 3 in this game? So much fun. We came very very close, and honestly did much better than anyone gave us credit for. RVP is a legend. I'm afraid he will leave, but understand. At any rate fantastic first half and great teamwork by the guys. I love you Arsenal, I do. My bi-polar adorkables.
Something here about the Gleek keying me in to an online stream of a dramatization of the Prop 8 hearing. really good stuff, including her boy Colfer (who, it appears, can act) but also Brad Pitt, George Clooney, Martin Sheen, Kevin Bacon, Jane Lynch and a bunch of other stellar performers. Really good. And, if you've never really had a handle on how courtroom manipulation goes, it's good to watch: they are basically simply reading transcripts from the trial, and yet, with the inflection, I personally think you get a much deeper understanding of the role lawyers, and how facts are presented really plays. Good stuff: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qlUG8F9uVgM&feature=relmfu
...and finally, stuff I do to get paid:
Thursday, March 01, 2012
Daydream Believer
At any rate, Davy always represented "safe" and "normal" to me, even though he was British, shorter, and an actual stage actor who started as a childactor in a production of "Oliver" in London. (To his credit, Mickey Dolenz was also a child actor but who the hell ever saw the tv show "Circus Boy"?). I disliked him because he was the most popular, and it became a way of seeing most things in our culture that persists to this day. I gravitate to the unique, different, and the difficult.
Even as a little kid, watching the Brady Bunch, the fact that my least favorite Brady (Marcia, duh) crushed out on Davy just strengthened my resolve. Clearly everyone loved davey, and that must mean the other Monkees weren't getting love, that was what I always told myself as I watched on Saturday mornings thorughout the 70's, huddled in my light green beanbag, madly scanning the TV Guide for more episodes. I do love the biggest musical hit, "Daydream Believer", and feel like it couldn't have been sung by anyone other than Davy. It was one of the first songs I ever learned all the words to, and Stepping Stone, Mickey's big hit, was one of the first cover tunes I ever learned on bass.
Most of all, as my pal Drl pointed out today - Davy also seemingly created the Axl Rose shimmy dance (see above screen cap) and for that alone he will be a small legend in my mind. I certainly didn't expect him to be the first Monkee to shuffle off this mortal coil (somehow, I thought it would be Peter, in some crazy accidental convenience store drug rampage or something), yet another milepost passes into the distance.
That said, today marks a week since smrge's visit began. It was a bit of a fantastic daydream right out of the gate - a warm, sweet meeting at the airport, animated conversation and affection as we drove back to the house. We enjoyed delightful morning cocktails (i did a little bloody mary magic) and reacquainted ourselves. Drug out old pictures, and compared notes. The evening was spent enjoying the construction of a pizza as music was played and conversation expanded. We curled up in the evening, putting a stuffed bear out to pasture, and enjoying the Wilco doc, "Ashes of American Flags" which smrge hadn't seen, and in fact, loved. We played each other music (I heard latest TOOL, he latest Wilco) and the natural affinity seemed to click in well.
Friday was a rambling day - Berkeley guitar shop, SF car tour and more music stores. Lunch at Nopalito, which was an adventure in urban hipster land, but I was so happy to have him by my side, and we headed home, where I did my traditional roasted chicken dinner, and it was more relaxing and watching movies, Doctor Who, and music, some heartfelt discussions and laughter. Saturday was leisurely, coffee, scones and some observation of the backyard fauna, specifically Addict Cat ("Whiskers") whom smrge managed to entice to within arm's reach. That evening we drove into the City via Marin, so that smrge could travel the Golden Gate Bridge, and we braved the dreaded (by me) Marina district in order to eat at my old coworker's new gig: Umami. Taylor took care of us - we sat at the sushi bar, not far from his station, and he sent out a huge menu of all his favorites, and we filled in with a few pieces of sashimi and seriously, some of the most lovely sake I've ever drunk. Taylor also demoed a new salad for us (not on the menu yet, but soon) of house smoked duck and a salad of pea shoots, kumquats, watermelon radish and other seasonal yumminess. From there, it was tuna tataki, cherry smoked salmon, halibut sashimi in a ceviche style that blew my doors off...a take on a bbq pork sandwich as a roll, and so many more things (I kept the menu, and may break it down again). Taylor came out a couple times to talk to us, to tell us about the food he was sending, and it was so much fun to be able to share that with smrge, who seemed to really dig it. When he got up to use the loo, he planted a kiss on my forehead and I admit, I swooned a bit. Such a great night.(we had started by getting coffee at the Coffee Bean and smrge mentioned it was the best vanilla latte he'd had - and that's no faint praise - he loves his coffee.
It was all the conversation and loveliness of the food - of explaining things about the kitchen and the ingredients to smrge, being finally able to share it with someone in that way...really could not have asked for a better night. We drove home the way we came in, and so smrge got the nighttime view of the Bridge and stuff as well. Every bit of it dreamy.
Sunday was quiet, and we made a trip to Berkeley Bowl to buy provisions for making an old favorite of smrge's: scallops with bacon & brussels sprouts. Sunday is not a good day for shopping at the Bowl, and sadly, I did not realize the extent of how horrendous it would be.
Fucking hippies.
Dinner was yummy, we had a nice bottle of Layer Cake and then attempted to stay awake to watch early episodes of The Office, but drifted off pretty quickly. While the first night was full of tossing for me, by Sunday night, sharing blankets was like riding a bike. Monday, smrge was a champ and came into work with me, even enduring the BART merry-go-round. I plied him with baked goods, and he showed me how get the spill guard off my mixer to get it clean. Which reminds me: somewhere in there he also managed to clean up my computer's registry & free up huge amounts of memory, and also to find the code so that I can once again use my car stereo. Kudos to my big-brained soulmate. We got home late, and I made a quick stop at the burrito joint I found recently so that he could also enjoy a real burrito (one of the great joys of this area, imho) - which he also was most complimentary of. He also ate several scones (not that night) and took several naps, as one should when on vacation. I thought it was a great visit, and I couldn't help but cry when "Radio Cure" started playing as we headed to the airport, where I once again got very emo as we parted so that he could catch his plane.
I know there is a lot of stuff going on. I know that I probably should have been more cautious with my emotions - that nothing ever is a simple anything for me. This has always been the case, and appears it always will be. What I am thankful for, even if it was only for a few days, was the chance to share my life with smrge again, face-to-face and nose-to-nose and for it to actually be *my life* that I was sharing, not simply space. I certainly have all sorts of worries about what happens next - but I will not forget how good it felt to have smrge there, to be laughing, sharing discoveries (even goofy YouTubers that I follow) and being as honest as I know how, right then with him.
I'm a believer.
Wednesday, February 29, 2012
this is the way it goes, and goes, and goes...
In the meantime, when in the Marina section of SF, dine at Umami. Ask for Taylor. Get the duck salad.
Monday, February 27, 2012
Not just any game either - we won against Spurs in the Derby - and with a 5-2 scoreline, AND we came back from a 2-nil deficit. Impressive work for the boys, and with both Bac and TR7 scoring (totally rare occurences, and actually, Bac has scored as often as the little Mozart has in recent seasons). At any rate, it was a 5:30 am game, and SMRGE was in the house, and we had spent the previous evening enjoying an epic meal orchestrated by my pal and former coworker T, (more on that later) which included a good amount of fantastic sake and thus didn't see the game live. Ok, I did roll out of bed early enough to watch the last 10 minutes of the game but we had already won by then so it was a little anti-climactic...however, later that evening we (yup, we) did watch the match in it's entirely and it was sooooo freaking good to see them playing the way we know they can play. RVP mentioning that the communication on the pitch was fantastic, to me, says everything about the issues in the team.At any rate, it was spectacular, and made even more wonderful by the full-on Soccer Sunday that went on at the house - we watched the Carling Cup final as well - great game for SMRGE to see, and man, what great performances by both squads. I'm gutted for Cardiff, especially since it would have been nice to go into next Saturday with Liverpool having lost the Cup on penalty shots, but it was not to be.
Next up, Wednesday at ours against Inter, and I'm as worried about that as I was about Spurs so...yeah.
Thursday, February 16, 2012
reminder:
Perseverance is not a long race; it is many short races one after another. WALTER ELLIOT (1888-1958)
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