So this song has been the theme of today even more than others.  I don't know of one really productive thing that I did today - although I tried as I could.  Anyway, here are three different yet still all beautiful versions of this song by Tame Impala.  Love it!!!

ROTFLAPIMP

So.... you all know what my biggest fear is, right?  Like what would be my most embarrassing moment.  If you've been following this blog, you should know.  If not......

It's shitting myself in public.  Like sharting or diarrhea.  I have all these digestive/bowel issues which seem to be IBS.  Even though I think IBS is a name they came up with for varying digestive issues that couldn't fit into a specific diagnosis.  You know, I've been taking probiotics, and let's just say that I've had to ease off on those because, well... they are having the reverse effect now...

Anyhoo, that is neither here, nor at work.  I guess I'm just self centered and I need to talk about myself before I talk about someone else.

So, do you want to hear the very embarrassing moment my coworker had today?

Oh, no.  Ok.  I guess I will stop here then.




Ha ha ha.  You wish.  But, I have to tell this story.  So, as you know, because you follow this blog, Sundays are horrible for me.  Ok, that's an exaggeration.  Sunday is my most unfavorite day of work.  It's long and grueling and I have to work in cramped close quarters with my two male coworkers, who give me about 3 square feet of space on the hot line.

So, anyway, when we had a break in the tickets, the one of them, let's call him Fish Drop, because he dropped the last piece of salmon the other day, had to go to the bathroom.  He was gone for a little while.  When he came back, the other cook, Air Jordan (he has this like Air Jordan tattoo on his arm), asked if he had gone to smoke, because Air Jordan wanted his smoke break.  Fish Drop told him that he didn't get a chance to smoke because he had to take a shit, which he had said he had to take since 9 am.

Fast forward to, oh, maybe an hour later.  So, Fish Drop walks by me, and I see something flapping from the back of his pants.  It was like 8 inches long.  I thought it was a kitchen towel, but it was too flimsy.  Then I thought it was paper towel, because the FP sometimes puts paper towels in his back pants pocket.  See, cooks hold towels folded over their apron strings, so the FP, in lieu of apron strings will stick a paper towel back there when like cleaning or something.  Yeah, it's kind of weird.

But getting back to Fish Drop, and the thing in his back of his pants.  You know where I'm going with this.  So, I was looking at it to figure what it was.  And then I did.  So, I took a split second to not laugh but figure out how to tell him.  So I said, put your hand on your pants...on the back of your pants.  So he grabbed the toilet paper hanging out of his pants and looked at it and looked at me and grabbed it and stuffed it into the slim jim garbage can next to him.  Right as that happened I started laughing hysterically.  And right as I started laughing hysterically, our chef turned the corner and asked what's so funny.  I just looked at him and continued my involuntary convulsive giggles.  Fish Drop just said, oh nothing.  I guess I looked at the garbage or Chef saw Fish Drop throw the toilet paper in the garbage, because Chef went over to the garbage can to look in.

He saw the toilet paper and he began to crack up too.  The two of us were like giggling fools.  I was laughing so hard my face hurt.  Fish Drop's explanation was that he had gone to the bathroom a half an hour ago (but I'm pretty sure it was longer than that).  I don't know how no one had noticed that whole time.  His pants tend to fall, so he probably had them pulled up, and then as they slowly fell the TP came out of his bung hole.  I'm glad I didn't see the TP in the garbage.  Because there had to be shit on it, right?!

Even now, as I sit on the couch alone, with the Steeler game on, and the FP already in bed.  I chuckle to myself.

And my butt feels tingly.     

Out of sorts

I have a horrible memory... and this has partially led to my OCDness.  I have to do things in a certain way to make sure I don't fuck them up.  It's all about preparing ahead for what I will surely forget.  Have you seen that movie Memento, where the guy leaves himself notes and tattoos stuff on himself? I can totally relate to that.  I sometimes basically don't know how I got to where I ended up.  

Anyhoo, long intro.  So, what happened this morning was, I had my street clothes already packed in my bag for work.  Usually, I have to root through the laundry pile that lives in the sink to come up with something.  Then I throw it all in a plastic grocery bag in my work bag.  

But, on Wednesday, I drove straight home with my work clothes on because I just wanted to get home to my family.

So, this morning, my routine was all out of whack, on account on not having to pack my bag.  So I thought.  I got to work, and I went into the bathroom to put on my work shirt, when I realized that I didn't pack it.  I had my work shirt sitting on top of my work pants, but I never put it in my bag with the other clothes.

Doh!!!

So, all I had were two small v neck T shirts and a wife beater.  So, I put on the wife beater underneath my purple v neck, so I would have a longer shirt under.

Then I went into the dry storage area to check the T shirt box for a T Shirt.  There was one 2XL shirt. Man's 2XL, of course.  It would be a dress on me.  And while I used to wear gigantic shirts in college, I don't think my employers would appreciate a gigantic shirt at work.  So, I figured, I would wait for them to get in, and see if they had a shirt or really wanted me to go home and change.

Being OCD, this made me edgy.  I kept doing my prep, but I kept looking at the clock, thinking if I would have time to go home if I were asked to.

I seemed to be ok on time when I started to make the biscuit dough for the weekend.  I hate making it, because it doesn't feel great using my hands to cut the butter into the flour.  I did get a cheap pastry blender, but it didn't really help, so unless I break down and get a nice pastry blended, I have to use my hands and not worry about how it makes my hands feel like claws after.  I was cutting in the butter, when I noticed the dough was awful white.  And then, I noticed, it was grainy.

I was using rice flour instead of AP flour.  I had done this once before, a long time ago, and I didn't notice until I baked the biscuits and they came out weird - dry and crumbly.  

So, I had wasted my time, and the ingredients.  We have been short on rice flour because the flour we had been getting from the supplier kept coming in with weevils in them.  So, I killed all this rice flour that we needed for the weekend.  And I ended up taking almost an hour just to make biscuit dough.

Stupid stupid stupid!!!

Anyway, the owner, the cult leader, my boss, walked and saw that I didn't have a work shirt on, but he didn't say anything.  

Later on, I asked him if he had a T shirt in his car, and he said, "Why, you look fine?"  

To which I responded, "I'm not in the uniform."

He said, "I figured you had a good reason for not wearing it.  It's fine.  You have bigger arm muscles than Manny over here."  

It still made me feel weird.  Like I was too comfortable in my T shirt.  The sleeves were shorter, exposing my tattoos and my said guns... which must have been distracting for all my coworkers.  One server asked, was it casual Friday?

Anyway, if you want to fuck with me, take away one of my pillows, put my eyeglasses case on a different shelf, change the order of my cooler mise en place, change the time I have to go into work, any little deviation in my routine totally throws my day or life out of whack.  

So, now you know.  You might observe a habit and see me as being anal.  Really, I'm just trying to keep my shit together.  It's always ready to spin out of control at the slightest movement.

postscript -

LMAO!!! Here is a prime example.  I just went to tag and publish this post, when I realized that I almost posted it on The Pork Porn Pages instead of Unnecessary Supplement!  I haven't written on the Pork Porn Pages in so long, that I automatically thought I was on the Unnecessary Supplement page... silly me... DOH!

Time Sensitive Material

I feel like I'm too sensitive.

Ok, I know that I'm too sensitive.  I'm sure that I would have gotten farther in life if I had tougher skin.  But that's part of the genetics that I involuntarily inherited from my father.

I feel like going into work every day, working in that small kitchen, in my little nook, like I'm going to erupt.

I know I've bitched about this stuff before, but you also don't have to read every single blog I write.  If you do, you're nuts!

I work with a big huge fat kid who doesn't move out of the way, throws hot pans across the room into the soapy water, bosses everyone around, throws tantrums, and he's the teacher's pet.  He's the chef's protege, and the chef is always concerned about if his pet is going to be in a good mood or not, and he's always trying to placate this big bully.

I'm almost twice this kid's age, and years more experience than him.  Yet, I'm trapped on pantry.  Everyone treats me like I just started working in a kitchen, which in turn drains any confidence I have, which makes me probably look like I just started working in a kitchen. 

I feel like I've regressed skillwise.  I can't make a simple lousy dessert without the chef saying how it just isn't right or needs something else, or whatever.  I try to make desserts based on what stuff we have that we need to get rid of.  And I try to do it between keeping up with my regular work.  And I end up making something that isn't acceptable or isn't what I would like to make.

What it really all comes down to, is that I didn't go into this business 14 or so years ago, to be in exactly the same position I was in my first kitchen job.  I'm not saying that pantry is really only an entry level position, like people like to classify it, but this job, with other cooks who I can't relate to, it is not the right job for me.  I feel so alienated from this place.  And that makes the paranoia creep in, like they are always evaluating me and are going to axe me at any minute.

Which, I would like to think is not true.  As far as I know, they give people several chances, and they let them know if they aren't happy with someone's performance... but I know that I'm not the best version of myself there.  I try to do what I can, but it's not enough.  I should know how to cook everything on the menu by now.  But sadly, I only know maybe half, or maybe even a third of the menu.  I tried to learn other stuff in the beginning, but I wasn't really given the opportunity to work the line, and I didn't push my way in.

So, here I am.  I've pretty much gotten to the end of my road at that job, because of which road I've decided to take.  So, I'm just going to camp out at the dead end of the road.  Hole up in my tent.  Sustain.  Build myself an outdoor latrine.  Try to keep a low profile, until the cops come and evict me.

Or, until that secret path out of the subdivision opens up for me.

I'm hoping for the secret path.

I didn't win the lottery :(

I was really banking on that one.  $200 million.  Someone from Iowa or somewhere won it.  I even quit my job already thinking I would win.

Ok, I didn't quit my job.  But I fantasize about quitting.  All the time.  Why?  Why am I like that?  I used to have friends who would say I'm never happy with any of my jobs.  But in retrospect, there's always got to be something good in a job to stay for more than a day, right?

Would you like me to list the positives about jobs I've had?  That should be a short list for sure.  I'm not going to include working for my parents... because it's working for my parents and it doesn't count.  But I will start after that in chronological order.

The beach toys kiosk in the mall.
1. It was my first job.
2. I got to get out of the house in the summer.
3. I met interesting people.
4. I got an interesting glimpse into the mall employee culture.

The internship at a literary journal when I was at FSU. 
1.  It was my first and last job pertaining to writing.
2.  The people were nice.
3.  I got some experience seeing how a literary journal was run, and it was cool.
4.  I got my name in the credits.

The work study in the curriculum counseling office at Emerson College.
1.  It gave me a stipend.
2.  I had the chance to experience an office job where I had a desk.
3.  The people were nice.
4.  I met some interesting students and I like to think I helped them.
5.  I felt useful.
6.  It helped with the loneliness.
7.  Our end of semester work party was at a place called Brew Moon, which was my first experience with a nice brewpub and "gourmet" food.

Ben & Jerry's 
1.  It was the first job that I ever applied to and really wanted to get.
2. I got to eat all the ice cream I wanted.
3. I worked with a lot of cool people.
4. I learned how to work a register and handle money and close out the deposit at night.
5. I had responsibility.
6. I started writing the schedule.
7. When closing on a Friday or Saturday night, sometimes we would make mixed drinks with ice cream or sorbet to take and drink on the way to the club.
8.  I made good money during the summer.
9.  I learned that I had led a sheltered life.

Sam Adams Brewery
1. I got to tell people I worked at Sam Adams!
2. I got to drink beer!
3. I got to try new beers before they came out.
4. I liked all the people there.
5. It was the most I had ever made hourly, even though it was only a few hours a week.
6. I got merchandise at a discount.
7. I got 2 free cases a month, and I also got to take extra expired beer too.
8. They let me invite my friends and hang out after hours and drink from the open taps!
9. I think if we hadn't left Boston I would have wanted to stay with the company for long term.

Coffee Cottage
1. I got hired right away after moving, so I felt secure about that.
2. I liked some of the people I worked with.

Spice Inc
1. I loved that store.
2.  I like most of the people I worked with.
3. I admire the owner.
4. I met interesting people.
5. I learned a lot about food.
6. I learned a lot about work politics.
7. I liked working somewhere that was ahead of it's time.



Man... this is going to be at least a 2 parter... I've worked a lot of places!
g'night!

Reality

You know how everyone always says, "they should film our workplace!  We are so interesting and hilarious, it would be good!"

Yeah, we don't care to watch you and your place of work.  It's probably not as funny to outsiders as it is to you.

I don't think my place of work is exciting enough to film.  Maybe if you followed the owners through all three restaurants, it might be interesting.

But anyway, I think I'm going stir crazy being cooped up in that teeny kitchen with the same people all the time!!!  I'm beginning to snap.

So, here's the players.  There's me.  I'm quiet.  I keep in my corner and do my job.  Every once in a while I say something.  As far as anyone knows, I could be a serial killer who listens to country music and lives with her mother.

There's the calming 29 year old stoner who is nice and sometimes is a shoemaker.

There's his roommate, a younger, yet big huge 23 year old kid who started as very aggressive and angry and demanding.  A month or so ago, something happened, and he's much more pleasant to be around, although I'm still getting used to being able to have a conversation with him.

There's the Haitian brother dishwashers.  One is skinnier and fast and always working and cleaning.  The other is a little chubby and slow and lazy and always on the phone and riding the clock.  They don't speak much english and they try to eat as much as possible while at work.

There's the older cook, who has another full time job at night.  He works hard, but he's slow at prep work and he always thinks his way of doing things is the best.  And he's a born again catholic.

Then there's the chef.  He's a big nervous Dane who smokes lots of cigarettes, goes to the store multiple times in one day, and cracks dirty jokes.

There's our cult leader, the owner.  He's charismatic and calm and demanding in an unassuming way.

And then there's the cult leader's partner.  He's a stylish sarcastic hardworking Filipino gay.

Those are the people who I will bother to tell you about for now.

Anyway, I think I need a break from these people.  I'm starting to get mouthy.  The one older cook really crossed the line with me today.  He thinks I'm a nice quiet lady.  He started in on the religious talk.  He does that a lot.  He's born again catholic = he's preachy + judgey.  He started with the economy getting worse and how when the lady of Fatima appeared to those kids, she predicted this, along with world war II.  Basically, some vague reference to people being sinful bringing bad times to the world means that she predicted this 2008 economic decline and further decline in 2012?

So, you know, when this guy says shit like this, I just look at him.  Sometimes I say things like, Oh yeah?  or Interesting?  or Oh, yes, I've heard that before.

Then later on, he said how did I know that Barack Obama used to be Muslim?  I said, are you sure you got that information from a reliable source?  He said, oh yes, I know it's true.  I read all about his biography when he was young.  His parents gave him up when he was two and he was raised Muslim.

This is highly offensive to me.  Being preachy about misinformation.  Oh, and obviously having something against being Muslim.  I must have had an awful look on my face, because, then he said, "It doesn't matter.  But do you know he's pro choice?"

We were standing at the stove.  I was on the end.  The big 23 year old kid was in the middle, cooking something.  The preachy guy was on the other side.

I slammed on the brakes.  Whoa!!!!! Buddy!!!!!!!!!!!!!
I said, "No, we are not going to discuss this.  This is something you do not get into at work.  And I don't think you want to get into it with me, because you're not going to like what I have to say."  That might not be verbatim, but you get my POV....

Then big 23 year old kid, said, "Religion and politics, you don't talk about those things at work."

Then the older cook fell silent.  He didn't talk to me for the rest of the shift.  He didn't even say goodbye to me, or not that I heard.  I'm the second person in a couple weeks who has told him to basically shut up.  About a week ago, the bread lady came in, and when she saw him, she said, "No, you don't talk to me."  Then she had a heated conversation with the chef.  He told the older cook he wasn't allowed to talk to her anymore.  I think she got sick of him picking about the bread orders.  In all fairness, if there is a problem with quality, he should address it to the chef.

Anyway, it kind of felt good to finally, in my own way, tell him to shut the fuck up!  I know that it was partially because I'm all hormonal.  I have been off the birth control for about a month now, due to my procrastination and not scheduling a "lady's exam".  So, I can tell the difference with not taking the stuff....

I'm so interested to see how he acts towards me tomorrow....

Oh Boy....

Do you ever feel like the present is the future for who knows how long?

No?

Well, aren't you special.

I hate when I reference really old pop culture phrases that really make me feel old.  And I do it all the time, mostly to myself.  But I do it.  A lot of Seinfeld references.  A lot....

Anyhoo, that wasn't the topic of the day.  The topic of the day was... the Groundhog Day effect.

Yes, another dated pop culture reference.

And don't tell me you've never seen the movie with Andie McDowell and Bill Murray.  Because I know you have.  And if you find a clip online, then you'll say, "Oh, yeah, I guess I've seen it."

So, I just feel like my life is kind of on a loop.  I had my "vacation" already.  My big wopping THREE DAY VACATION.  Which consisted of getting up early in the morning after 4 hours of sleep to get to the airport, fly 3 hours, then get in a car and drive 4 and a half hours north to Traverse City, going drinking and staying out late, sleeping in for 9 hours, getting breakfast, trying to go site seeing, but agreeing to just chill at the hotel, going to the wedding and staying for 9 hours, then finally getting a cab back to the hotel, sleeping for 4 hours, getting up, checking out, driving 4 and half hours back to the airport, then flying 3 hours home, and getting dinner, then resting a couple hours before going to bed super early before work the next day.

Not that the wedding wasn't great, but a "vacation"?

So, I don't see taking any "vacation" any time soon.

Ok, there is a chance I will have 2 or 3 days in a row off next week.  That's because we are closed on 4th of July, and I am normally off the day before and the day after.  So, that's three days.  But my chef asked me if I wanted to work another day or not.  I said whatever.  He said whatever.  Do I need the money for the extra day?  Of course.  Do I want 3 days off for a staycation?  Of course.  Well, I'll just see what he says on Sunday.  The big cheese, our corporate cult leader may not want me to work 5 days next week anyway.  Or he may want me to work 5 days because we are supposed to start opening for brunch on Saturdays starting next Saturday.  Oh joy (sarcastic tone)!

Did I tell you how I'm not a big fan of brunch?  Oh sure, I like to go eat brunch.  I just don't like to work it.  It's not my thing.  Working really maybe isn't my thing.  I seemed to be more productive in my personal life when I was unemployed.  That's sad.

Anyway, my original topic was really about vacation.  When the hell will I get a real vacation?  I know, I've only been working for 3 months.  But I think this split days off thing is wearing on me.  I'm an old lady now.  I need two days off successively for proper recovery.

My family is talking about going to the Philippines in December or January.  So that might be my "vacation".  Which, really is not a vacation either.  Going there will not be a leisurely trip.  Having to see everyone who we haven't seen in years or have never met, and burying my mom's ashes will be quite a whirlwind.

So, anyway, I'm hoping I can get those three days off... although I need the money....hm.... or I could just see what happens on Sunday.

Bitter Greens

So, here's a weird thing.  There have been a few times when the kid who now has my old job has asked me some questions.

This is over a year after I left (got pushed out).

He asks me questions that I feel like the owner/GM should be able to answer.  So why ask me?  It's weird.

But, I have nothing against the kid.  He had no loyalty to me.  So, I told him what I could.  Except for he wanted a recipe from the original menu.  It was the other owner's recipe.  And then one of the cooks altered to be a better recipe.  And then the menu was changed as soon as I left.  Pretty much all traces of me removed, like a cleaner going in and scrubbing my DNA from everything - DNA as in the blood, sweat and tears that I left behind.

So, I told him to ask the cook who developed the recipe.  I gave him her number.  He left her a voicemail.  Then she texted me saying how could he have the nerve... So I explained to her.  And she said she was going to request a bottle of the habanero hot sauce, and after she got it, then she would give them the recipe.

But they don't make it anymore.  That was my hot sauce recipe.  And this other guy who left on not so great terms designed the labels.  So, no way they kept making it.  They probably threw the unused bottles and labels in the dumpster.

Anyway, Friday is their 4 year anniversary.  Congrats to them.

Friday is also The Food Pimp's and my wedding anniversary.  10 years.

Do you think the restaurant will survive 10 years?

Honestly, I hope not.  I really do wish them ill.

Happy Memorial Day?

Is that what people say, "Happy Memorial Day?"  That's weird.

Anyway, I had to work today.  I can say, it was a pleasant drive in, because most everyone else was off, so there was zero traffic.  There were barely any cars at all on the road.

It wasn't dead at work, but it wasn't completely busy either.  Just enough of a pace to think about my present state of my life.

What do I do?  I'm a pantry cook.  I watch this kid play the big man every day.  He's basically the unofficial lead line cook.  He's young, and of course, he thinks he knows everything.  Ok, most everything.  The worst part, is that he is working at the owner's other restaurant about 2 - 3 nights a week, and he is totally burnt out at like 22.  It's getting worse and worse for those of us who have to work with him.

For one thing he's a pot thrower.  The dish sink is right next to his station, but he still feels the need to throw pots with as much force as possible into the sink.  He's not paying for the pans, so what does he care.  Oh wait, he does care, because when a handle breaks off, he bitches about it.

The other thing is, he doesn't like to cook too much.  If he feels that he's "unfairly" getting too many orders, he pitches a fit.  Like he curses even more and throws pans and slams things down even louder than  usual.  He doesn't ask for help.  He acts like such a dick, that I don't want to just step in to quiet him down.  I'm not just going to placate him like a mother.... fuck that shit.  And that's partially his fault because he doesn't probably feel like I can help him.  Or maybe he does expect me to just jump in and help.  I would jump in and help the other guys.  But he gets so violent, I don't want to be near him when he's like that.  Really.  I'm scared I will get hurt in the crossfire or something.

Someone needs to send this kid to boot camp.  He's so tiring to work with, he kind of makes me over that job sometimes.  Even though it's easy.  And I pretty much like everyone else.  I mean, it's not like I hate the kid, but he sure make for an uncomfortable work environment.

It's so to the point that I feel the need to talk to the chef about him.  That's not really my style.  But the chef partially knows how rotten the kid has been acting, and maybe he needs to know that little more that he doesn't.  I mean, for god's sake, the company motto is "be nice".  BE NICE.  It's pretty straightforward and simple.  This kid is anything but nice.

Anyway, that was my Memorial Day.  Can I say though, that is was so sweet to come home and go wade around in the pool after work.  It is officially that time of the year where having a pool is pretty much necessity in South Florida!

Happy Memorial Day!!!!!  :)

Things At Work That People Do

So, when I was at my last job, I was pretty particular about some things, and other things I was pretty lazy about, but someone else would worry about that.  So, as far as the kitchen crew, we were ok with things, besides... general upkeep of the kitchen.  We cleaned when we could, but we definitely did not get to clean as much as we would like.

Anyway, I find myself at my current job always thinking, boy if so and so could see me now!

Of course, I'm at home and I have a horrible memory, but I'll try to remember things that we do at work that I would have never allowed at my last job:

- So, we have like this knife service.  The guy comes every Thursday and trades our knives out for a sharp set.  So these are the house knives.  I generally use my knives though, unless I'm doing a task that requires a huge wide chef knife.  Anyway, when everyone is done with a house knife, they just throw it on the bus tub or in the dish pit.

With all the other dishes.

Which means, a dishwasher could grab a knife without seeing it and cut himself.  It hasn't happened, but it definitely could.

Crazy.

And I have to admit, I have done it a couple times too.  Yes, I have.

But those couple times, I made sure it was somewhere where the dishwasher would see it.

Still, it's against my principles.



- If you know about the rules of sanitation, then you know that there's a certain order of how raw proteins should be stored.  Basically, things that cook faster should be stored above things that have longer cooking times.  Makes sense, right?  Well, our walk in is a little helter skelter.  I have found cooked crabmeat cases on the bottom shelf under raw beef.

Why don't I do something about it, you ask?  Well, I guess I don't feel it's my place.  I'm just the lowly pantry cook.  That stuff is not my domain.  The guys seem to have their unorganized "system" and I'm scared that if I move things, they won't be able to find something and think we are out of it.

So, yeah, I'm one of those people who watch something go wrong and not do anything about it.

Here's the thing.  This place is really still settling in.  Things are not as efficient as they could be.  And if I'm still around when things are morphing, then I'll help.  The other thing is, all these other people I worked with have taken sanitation.  I mean they probably all have current sanitation certifications, and I don't.



- FIFO is not always followed.  First in first out.  Common sense, right.  The first thing you buy is the first thing you use.  Simple.  Doesn't always happen.  Sometimes you will see like 3 open containers of salt, oil, milk, heavy cream, ground black pepper... it's so annoying.  And like we have no freezer space.  One reach in single door freezer, and a lowboy double door freezer.

So, we do brunch every Sunday.  And we have to order things for just that day.  Like english muffins.  So we get the new english muffins in, and we put them in the walk in cooler.  So, then there are frozen english muffins in the freezer that just sit there for another week.  Annoying.




-  We throw away a lot of product.  A lot.  The cooks at the last place always made fun of me for keeping stuff that they thought was not salvageable.  So, it looks like every Monday we throw away fish.  The fish is only a couple days old and it stinks horribly.  I can't help thinking that it's not stored properly, or that too much is being ordered.  But I don't order the fish, and I don't store it.  So who am I to say.  But I know that if it seemed to be starting to go, I would cook it and make something of it.  But that's just me.



- We do have barely any storage space.  But I think items are run down to nothing a little too often.  Like I hate seeing that there's half a pound of garlic left, or 2 onions.  And someone or multiple people noticed they were running low and didn't bother to tell the chef.  Because I think they think items just magically regenerate.  Or the worst, they leave the empty box there!  So if you don't touch the box, you may think there is a new full box of onions!


Well, that's only a few things, but I'm going to stop my bitching for now.  I'm tired, and I need to wind it down!  This is late for me!  And it's only 10:33pm!!!

Dumb Fucking Ass!

So, do you like irony?  Irony can be humorous, no?  It can also be painful too, though.

Here's some irony for you.  So, as you probably know, I am a "pantry chef".  Or a pantry wench is really more fitting.  So, I don't work on the hot line, I only use the oven or the stove to prep stuff before service, and I might use the flattop to cook myself a chicken breast.

But, I managed to burn myself today.  Pretty bad too.  So, these aren't the best pictures.  But, here's the worst two burns.

So, I made caramel.  I'm working on a new bread pudding, so I made the caramel to put in the bread pudding later.  I put it on the shelf above the pantry station to cool.  I was getting ready to leave.  I knew that the FP was already at the bar waiting for me.  Then an order came in for 2 salads.  The second order for salads all day.  I mean ALL DAY.

So, I started making them.  Yeah, I was kind of in a hurry.  I went to grab a handful of bacon to put on the caesar salad, and imagine the shock when I got a handful of hot caramel.  It took my brain time to process, as I felt the searing burn before I saw that caramel was all over my hand.  Luckily, there was a hand sink next to the pantry, so I turned on the cold water to rinse it off.  I also grabbed the caramel off with my other hand, and so burned my other hand as well.  Actually, the photos are the burns from the other hand.

So, I grabbed a cup of ice water and stuck my hands in it.  Then another order for 2 more salads came in.  One of the night cooks had started working already, and I could have asked him to make the salads.  But I didn't want to be a pussy.  So, I made them.  And they weren't the prettiest.  And then I clocked out, grabbed my shit and left.

But I left my coveted lunch there.  My chicken wings!  So pissed!  I hadn't really eaten all day and my food was there on the pantry station where the caramel had been.

So, we were making our way back home.  And I had brought a cup of ice water for the road to stick my hands in.  Of course, it's Friday, so there was mad traffic.

Yes, I said "mad traffic."  Because that is the appropriate phrase.

And my ice melted before we even got on the I-95.  And there was traffic on the 95.  And my hands hurt like rough S&M.  Not in a good way.  I found some neosporin in my bag, but that didn't help at all to soothe the pain.  Then I finally thought about holding my hands in front of the ac vent.  And it helped.  So, that's how I positioned myself the rest of the way home, leaning forward with my hands pressed against the vent.

When we got home, I took one of Rudy's big ice cubes and held it in my hands until it basically melted.  It numbed my hands, but when it wore off, it hurt like anal sex with a hedgehog.  So, I made the FP go to the store to get burn cream.

Of course, they were out of burn cream at the store.  It's like the universe is against me.  He got cortisone, which just made my burns tingle more.  And he got some kind of burn spray,   Dermoplast burn and itch spray, which kind of works.  It is better than nothing.  So, against my principles, I am dripping this burn spray on my keyboard cover.

It's a cover though.  It's designed to shield the keyboard from stuff like burn spray.  So here I am.  Typing away with these weird feeling blisters on my palm and inside finger.  How I'm going to use a knife tomorrow at work, I don't know.  I will probably have to wear a glove and pad it with tissue to cushion the blisters.

Or I could pop them.  We'll see.

Oh, and I will recommend to my chef that we have burn cream on hand.

No More Waving Statues of Liberty?

I so love the friendly torch wavers that stand in front of Liberty Tax Offices leading up to tax day!  So, today is April 15th, but tax day is actually April 17th.  So, in two days, all the statue of liberty greeters will be out of a job.

Well, hopefully they will be able to advertise car dealerships or real estate companies.  Or I guess they could solicit donations for the homeless at stop lights.  Or sell oranges, bananas and avocados at stop lights.  Jobs are tight though, so maybe the competition is stiff.

I realize that competition is stiff in pretty much every field nowadays.  There are tons of qualified and overqualified unemployed people out there.  So that's why it sucked when I had to go into work Saturday morning and listen to some arrogant Northern Irish bastard bitch about working so early, bitch about the recipes, bitch about only having worked there for 10 days and not knowing everything.  I mean he pretty much ruined (RUE - in- ed {the way Stewie says it on Family Guy}) my morning.  And everyone was pretty nasty that day.  It was like they were all on their male periods.

Yes, male periods.  I don't know if they exist.  Ok, I googled it and the leading authority on the internets, Wikipedia, said that there is such thing as Irritable Male Syndrome, and monthly hormonal cycles.  I just wonder if men that spend much time together sync with their male periods the way women can?

Anyway, men can be bitches.  I don't like it.  When I'm fucking going in to work at 8 am, I just want some peaceful ease into the workday time.  Which basically means no fucking bitching.

If you don't want to work the shift, then move over and let someone else take it!  I'm sure the FP would take it!  And he would be way better than you!

I Need A Vacation!

Damn.  One day off.  I am not ready to go back to work tomorrow!  I still haven't gotten everything done today that I needed/hoped to do.

Okay, so I am off again on Tuesday, if all goes well.  But still, I've been off seven days a week until two weeks ago.  Working 6 - 12 hours a day five days is quite different than working no hours....

Don't get me wrong.  I like my job so far.  How many times have you heard me say, "I like my job"?  A few times?  Once?  Never?!?  But it's the truth.  I like my job.  I get paid well for what I'm doing.  They seem to like me.  Hopefully we'll be busy though.  At some point, if we don't, the hours will start to be slashed.  Let's hope it doesn't happen....

I definitely need to figure out how I can start exercising again, though.  I am PMSing, but I also feel like I have lots of wound up energy from working again, and from the stress of family stuff going on.  If you've ever worked a service industry type job, then you know what I mean from the wound up energy.  After standing on my feet all day, I can't just go home and go to sleep.  Even though I'm exhausted, the working makes me more riled up.  That's part of why service industry people tend to party a lot.  They have all that extra energy they need to expend by drinking, smoking, doing blow, staying up all night and then going into work the next day in the same clothes they wore at work the night before.

Okay, not all service industry people are like that...
But a lot are.

I don't think I can go exercise after work, though.  Even though I have lots of energy after work, it's not useful energy for productive stuff really....  Anyway, depending on when I get off of work, I can't go for a walk or jog by myself at night.  I really don't see myself joining a gym and going to workout a few hours before bed and being able to sleep.  So, I guess I'll have to start drinking after work again!

Stereotypes at work

So, we all know about stereotypes.  They are offensive because they point out negative or mocking personality traits or habits of a segment of the population as perceived by other segments of the population.  Or let's just say, it's what people think about others.

Like...

Black people like fried chicken and Kool Aid.

Asians are bad drivers.

Jews are bad tippers.

And white rich people control the country.



Here's an interesting dichotomy.  At home, women do the cooking.  In restaurants, men do the cooking.  That's a stereotype.

When I had my first interview for my new job, the chef asked me how I handle being in the kitchen with males, when the kitchen is a male dominated place.  I didn't know how to answer that.

How do I handle it?  I just am myself.  I'm quiet at first while I figure things out.  And then I slowly spread out and change things, even if these things go unnoticed by others.  This applies to any job I start, whether there are men, women, kids, goats, puppies (aww, I would love to work with puppies!  I should have been a vet or a zoologist).  Just because generally men are more aggressive and move faster in the kitchen, it doesn't always mean they are more effective or efficient.

Anyway, I am the only female in the kitchen at work.  You know the last time that has happened to me?

About 9 years ago.  And that was the only other time.

I repeat, JUST ONE OTHER TIME HAVE I BEEN THE ONLY FEMALE WORKING IN THE KITCHEN OF A RESTAURANT. Am I yelling?  SORRY!

The last time I was the only female in the kitchen was at a bar where I was the only kitchen staff five days a week.  The other two days, one of the male owners worked in the kitchen.

Anyway, is it weird to be the only female on a kitchen staff of like ten people?  Sure.  Does it bother me?  Hell no.  I could care less what the gender makeup in the kitchen is.

Unless I employ a stereotype here: Men are more careless and messy and don't clean up carefully after themselves.  So, when you've got say, seven men running around a kitchen prepping, grabbing things from the walk in cooler and putting things away in the walk in cooler, how many items get put back in the proper place or get wrapped up properly?

Some.  If the kitchen were mostly women, the answer might be more likely to be 90% of things would be put in the right place and wrapped properly.  But, in the heat of scrambling to get prep done or during service, am I one of the culprits?

.....yes....

Stereotypes.

I'm female.  So, currently I work pantry.  And I make the desserts.  Girl stuff.  I don't mind.  Tonight was our first official night open.  I was training people on pantry.  And I got to watch the hot food go out.  I'll learn the hot food eventually.  I'm not worried.  They want me to be the pantry bitch, I'll be the pantry bitch.  After all, I haven't worked in ten months.  I gotta get back up to speed.  Starting at pantry is always an okay way to do that.

Is my ego bruised because I'm working the "entry level" station?  Maybe at first.  But hey, I've worked every station in other restaurants.  I don't need to prove to myself or to others that I have the ability.  Do I want to work the line with three or four other people on the line that really accomodates three cooks space-wise?  Hell no.  I want to wait until they got all the kinks ironed out, and three cooks can work comfortably and efficiently.  Then I'll learn every station.

Sometimes I get the feeling that others might think I have no experience.  LOL! Let's just say that I've gotten around in my day!

So, for now I'll work pantry.  That's were the females are best suited in a restaurant kitchen.  It's funny, because pantry is probably my weakest station.  Well, I don't know.  With this menu, it's pretty easy.

Just Read the Pork Porn Pages Post

Really.  I think that blog post says enough about what is on my mind tonight.  So, just read it.

http://thefoodho.blogspot.com/2012/03/dont-ever-think-your-job-is-100-secure.html

Maybe it's lazy of me... but, I'm kind of tired.

Tonight is my Friday

Tomorrow is my Sunday.  Oh wait, tomorrow is Sunday!

So, after not working for ten, count them, 10 months, I worked a five day week with these hours:

Tuesday 10 - 8
Wednesday 2 - 9
Thursday 9 - 5:30
Friday 9 - 3:15
Saturday 9 - 9

43.75 hours

0 - 43.75 in one week

My knee hurts.  I'm tired, but not necessarily sleepy.

I want to do everything I can tomorrow.  I want to clean the house, catch up on blogging, go to the beach and exercise, chill out on the couch and watch TV, hang out on the lanai and by the pool, go in the pool.

How many of those things will I actually do tomorrow?

Well, I have to at least do one?  Which one will I do?  We'll see.....

Goodnight and happy Friday night everyone.  Remember about the time change thing!

Poor Kitties!

I have to say, my kitties seem to miss me terribly.  When I get home, they follow me around and they meow at me a lot.  Oh wait, they do that all the time anyway.

Hm... should I change the blog title, or should I just roll with it?

Too lazy to change the title and I can't think of another topic.

I do know that The Fuzz is laying here on the couch right next to me.

You know, work is overrated.  If I had the choice of being in the house all day and not leaving, or going to work, regardless of finances, I might pick staying in the house.  There's a lot I could do.  There's a lot I could plan on doing and eventually accomplish.  Like stuff similar to the projects on this website:

http://vintagerevivals.blogspot.com/

There are such cool ideas on the blog.  Take cheap old furniture and paint it a cool color, and it's all good!  I love that.

I could also make toys and furniture for the cats.  Like this:

http://www.moderncat.net/2008/06/10/another-great-diy-project-from-ikea-hacker/

or this:

http://www.moderncat.net/2008/01/29/diy-ikea-stairway-to-kitty-heaven/

or even better, this:

http://www.moderncat.net/2009/01/18/ikea-hack-from-stockholm/



If I were really ambitious, I could make cool lights like this:

http://shannoneileenblog.typepad.com/happiness-is/2010/03/cloud-lights.html/

or if I were really ambitious, like this:

http://hutchstudio.blogspot.com/2011/01/more-on-light-post.html


But, I suppose, until I win the lottery, I'll just go to work 5 - 7 days a week....

Another First

I think, that a full life probably is full of lots of firsts.

1st solid food
1st steps
1st word
1st grade
1st communion
1st kiss
1st look at the opposite sex's pee pee
1st crush
1st boyfriend/girlfriend
1st time masturbating
1st time seeing naked parent
1st time getting to 2nd base
1st time getting to 3rd base
1st time hitting a homer
1st taste of alcohol
1st cigarette
1st joint
1st time mainlining
1st murder....

You get the picture.  I could go on and on with this list, but, let's just get back to the subject of me.

I rode the Broward County transit for the FIRST (1st) time today.  I'm a big girl now.  As my former coworker, Harley Mama would say, I got my big girl britches on!

So, I googled which route to take this morning, before going to work.  The FP drove me to work, though.  Of course, the first time he had to take me, it was rainy and trafficky.  Every time I've driven myself there has been minimal traffic and no rain.

So, I got out of work at around 5:30.  Luckily it wasn't raining/  I walked down Broward Blvd, past Hwy1, to 3rd Avenue.  I turned down 3rd, and I thought to myself, I think this is the right street...  I didn't see a bus stop sign, but I kept walking.  I almost witnessed at least two car accidents on my walk.  People really do drive shittily down here.  I mean, they really do.

I couldn't remember what the cross street was for the bus stop, so I just kept walking.  Finally, after a ten minute walk, I saw the bus stop.  It was on some corner by a tall building, no bench, no shelter, not even a trash can.  There was only one guy there.  The bus is supposed to run every 30 minutes, so the bus had probably just recently passed by.

I tried to get on the Broward County Transit website to see what it said for the schedule, but it was difficult to read on my teeny screen, and it just confused me, because it didn't list the stop I was at.

So, I just kept waiting.  And waiting.  There was some water on the side of the road, and some asshole driver drove fairly fast and sprayed us.  Fucking car drivers, they're all so rude and they don't respect us pedestrians and bus riders.  Fuck them!

Finally the bus came, about  half an hour after I arrived at the bus stop.  So, there was only a seat at the back of the bus, which kind of sucked for my motion sickness - since I couldn't see the horizon to prevent nausea.  It also sucked because I couldn't really see too well out the window to see street signs.

This bus goes by the airport, and as it went speeding onto the on ramp and off ramp, I thought I was going to slide into the aisle.  So, anyway, it's good to know that if I ever need to catch the bus from work to the airport, it's just a mere ten minute walk and ten minute bus ride.

So, then, I knew we were getting close to my stop.  I saw the bar, Shenanigan's, so I thought the next stop was mine.  I think I might have gotten off the bus too soon.  I should have waited until we crossed Sheridan, but I didn't.  At any rate, I was on the bus for about 30 minutes.

One thing that sucks about my kitchen shoes, is that while they are great for standing on your feet all day, they are shitty for walking a long distance.  So, my feet started aching.  Anyway, the sun was setting, and there I was walking up Sheridan toward home.  I said hi to almost everyone I passed on the sidewalk.  It's funny because when I was walking in silence, I would pass someone and say hi, usually too quiet.  Sometimes too loud.  It's like I had no sense of volume from underuse of my voice.

Anyhoo, I got home after a 20 minute walk.  So, here's the breakdown of my odyssey:

5:40pm, leave work

5:50pm, arrive at bus stop.

6:20pm, get on bus.

6:50pm, get off bus.

7:10pm, arrive at home!

So, an hour and a half from work to home.  Really, it wouldn't have been as bad if I had brought a change of shoes.  Next time I know.

So, my firsts were:

1st time riding the bus in South Florida.
1st time riding the bus from work.
1st time riding the bus home.
1st time walking home from US 1.
1st time walking in the neighborhood at night.
1st time being sprayed with water on the sidewalk in Fort Lauderdale.
1st time coming home from work to no FP.  That was weird.

Whelp, back to work tomorrow, 9 am!

Wasting Water

So, I didn't expect to be here on the couch, writing the blog at 2:38 today.

I expected to be working.  But, it was a big tease!

So, last night, our flight home was delayed.  We got home around 1:45 am.  I was pretty tired and ready to hit the hay and get my six hours of sleep.  I set the alarm, but of course, I really woke up at 7:05, and 7:25, and 7:35, and 7:55 before the alarm went off.  I made coffee, went out back to take a look at the plants and the pool.  The plants were okay, besides the tomato plants being knocked over.  Of course, I need to dig out the old wheatgrass and plant new stuff.  And the avocado tree still isn't happy.

The pool was a different story.  The water line was really low.  And the skimmer was completely full of leaves and oak pollen, and there was a whole raft of leaves and oak pollen right outside the skimmer too.  And a bunch on the floor of the pool.  So I emptied out the skimmer, and the raft of leaves and pollen that was near the skimmer broke up and sunk to the bottom...yay.  I got the hose and started refilling the pool, hoping I wouldn't forget to turn it off.

I went inside and took a shower and got ready.  I did remember to turn off the hose before I left.  And then I drove to work!  Except, I was getting to the interstate when I realized that I left my Brita water bottle at home!  Oh well, I figured, it's not like there's water there.  So, there was not much traffic, so I stopped at Walgreens and got some water.

Then I went to the restaurant.  And my new boss told me that today I would be filling out paperwork for the front of the house manager.  And then before I left, he asked me to see him before leaving.  The opening had been pushed back a couple days.  So, I guess I wasn't needed today.

But I had my knives, and my water, my pen, pad of paper, and my sharpie!  And my chef pants and cook's shirt!  I TOOK A SHOWER FOR THIS!  Man, I could have just got out of bed, thrown on some clothes, went to the restaurant, signed some papers and then come home and crawled back into bed!

Oh well, I am not the negative bad attitude girl I used to be.  I just trained myself not to make any inconvenient or unfavorable situation a huge tragedy anymore.  After all, it's one last free day before joining the workforce again!  A day of celebration!

So, I filled out the paperwork, and that was it.  I talked to my new boss, and he told me to come in tomorrow, same time, 10 am.  And that was it.  I went back home.

But, I'm not going to worry.  Not going to speculate.  I'm just going to enjoy my last day unemployed.

I was able to go out and buy myself a chef's knife, that I had been needing.  Boy that was fun.  I went to the Village at Gulfstream Park.  Gulfstream Park is a horse racing track over by our "old" apartment.    So, the Village is the shopping center with shops and bars and restaurants next to the Gulfstream.  When we first moved to Hallandale, the FP had said that we should never set foot in that complex.  Just because it seemed so... icky I guess is the word.  But I went there.  Because there was a Sonoma Williams.

I parked.  I walked to a directory.  and I tried to dechiper it.  I swear, it seemed like it was printed backwards.  So, I figured I had to go the opposite of what would be the logical direction.  Then the mall cop guy on his segway came by.  He slowed down and asked me if I needed help.  I asked him how to get to the Williams Sonoma.  And he told me to go in the direction that seemed opposite of the map.  And he assured me that the map was confusing.

So, I got to Williams Sonoma.  They had the standard Henckels and Wustof knives, which I am so over.  They are clunky and not shaped the most ergonomically and difficult to keep sharp.  They also had these crazy fancy expensive Japanese knives.  If I had just won the lottery I might buy them.  But I didn't.  I just checked 6 old tickets that I had stashed in my purse from various drawings.  Not one winner.

So, I went to Bed, Bath and Beyond in Aventura.  It was kind of busy.  And there were way more people needing help than there were people to help everyone.  So I waited.  And I was on the lookout for an employee who wasn't busy.  And finally one walked by, but of course he wasn't as knowledgeable in the knife department.  He was unlocking the case and looking around for the knife, when he finally found it.  He handed it to me, and then told me he needed to walk it up to the counter for me.  But I had one more question.  And I figured he might not know the answer.  But I asked anyway.

I needed a diamond steel.  He didn't know what that was.  And now I realize that I was using the wrong terminology.  I wanted the flat surface diamond steel.  I always called the regular steel the "rod steel".  And I called the flat surface steel the "diamond steel" because the end is kind of diamond shaped.  But they are both diamond steels technically.  Anyway, the guy had to go and get someone else to answer my question.  So, he brought back two guys, one was kind of quiet, and the other was Mr. Knife Guru.  So he came up and started telling me about diamond cut knives.  He said if I used the knife a lot, I should get the Global knife.  So, I told him how I was looking for a "diamond steel" not a diamond knife.  So, then he says if I don't know how to sharpen a knife, no offense, I should probably use one of those machines down there at the end.  I said I was looking for the diamond steel, and he said the one I had in my hand, the rod steel, was it.  So, I said I was looking for a flat edged one.  He said, if I wanted a good stone one, he showed me the flat stone that was the best.  It was a stone, and it was more expensive than the knife, so I didn't want that.  But, I didn't bother to explain it to him.  So, that was that, I would just get the Henckels steel because that was about all they had.  About 35 minutes after walking into the store, I finally left with all my purchases.

And now I'm home.  Although, I'm all clean and nowhere to go.

Laboring Over the Labor Day Post

So, I've been pondering this post all day, as in what to write about. First of all, I hope everyone is enjoying their Labor Day, even if you are one of the several who have to labor on this day. As you may know if you have read this blog before, I have not labored for several months. (I will most likely never go into labor.) Anyway, there are a lot of you who have welcomed this weekend and needed the rest. Especially with this high unemployment rate, those of you who are working are most likely working harder to make up for the work that those of us would be doing if the economy weren't in the shitter and we were not unemployed.

Anyway, I think I will babble on about my employment history. That sounds exciting! I think I'll just write until I feel like stopping. If I write about every job it will be a pretty lengthy post.

So, my first job was cleaning my mom's office. That was a sweet job. It was a lot of money for a kid. I was urged to save most of it, which I dutifully did, with the exception of buying a cassette tape or two every week.

My next paid job was not until several years later, in Boston. I worked at Ben N Jerry's. The running joke at my university was that all us grad students worked at coffee shops and ice cream shops, although, I was the only one I knew who didn't have a professional job. This place was a great job! I mean, the boss pretty much worked in the morning, then the college kid took over around 12pm - 6pm, then another kid came in some time in the afternoon and closed. So, there was minimal supervision. The boss totally trusted one college kid to train another college kid to eventually leave on his or her own to handle money and close. I was writing the schedule after a couple months there. The girl who was writing the schedule had quit, and none of the guys who had been there longer wanted to write the schedule. So, it was the day before the next week, so I had to start writing it in order to know when I was working. And, we could eat all the product we wanted. I was eating a cone, a shake or a sundae every single day. Later on, when the FP started working there with me, we learned that we could make alcoholic shakes while closing, that way we could get a head start on the drinking before we hit the club.

Towards the end of my time in Boston, I got a part time job at the Sam Adams Brewery. That job really was very part time, but it was also a great job. I ran the gift shop. The brewery was only opened for scheduled tours, and the gift shop was positioned at the end of the tour. So I only had a few hours in which I had to sell things. The other hour or two was stocking and doing inventory. Most everyone there was laid back and they all loved beer. This was my introduction to real beer. And really the best part about it was that I got two cases of beer a month. If there was expired beer, which was still drinkable, I could take one or two cases of those as well. And of course, employees had pretty much unlimited access to the taps in the tasting room. My friends came to the brewery twice, and we hung out for hours after the place closed drinking the free flowing beer. What a fun job!

My first job in New Orleans was at a business on Metairie road with later was torn down and relocated. Coffee Cottage. It was a coffee shop which also served food. The vibe at this place was weird. I was originally impressed with the owner because he graduated from the CIA. He was creepy, though. And I guess they used cake mix for the cakes! Only college girls, mostly pretty ones, worked there. And he had cameras all over the place. He allegedly locked himself in the office all day long and viewed all the footage from the cameras. I believe he also made lots of dirty comments to the girls who had been there for a long time. Gross. But, I had some fun nights there. Like the one time this girl was talking about rough sex with her boyfriend. She didn't know there was this old couple in the restaurant, and she was talking very loudly. That was funny.

Next job, Spice Inc. Another beloved job, with an amazing chef owner. I got to work there when we opened. It was such a great concept, so ahead of it's time! Before we opened we had orientation and we tasted teas, olive oils, vinegar, and other stuff. This was my introduction to quality ingredients. And also to really good gourmet deli food and desserts. Unfortunately, this place didn't last as long as it should have. In the early days of the opening, it was like a big party. There were way too many employees on each shift, so we spent a lot of time getting to know each other. One of the best parts was closing, doling out the leftover sandwiches (these sandwiches were so delicious) and the leftover tortilla espanol. This was my first taste of tortilla espanol, and I wanted to eat it every day. On nights when there was none left I was always so bummed! Anyway, even if there were no leftovers to take home, the employee discount seemed to be pretty generous, so we always had that.

The job that I left Spice Inc for was the most influential job of my life, to this day. Vega. This was my first kitchen job. I started on pantry, and I must say, this is probably the most difficult pantry station I've encountered to date. There were so many items on pantry! I admit, I just didn't start the job and master it right away. It was difficult. And the place was so busy! I had lots of work related nightmares there! But, my boss was amazing. She encouraged me to develop as a chef. Over the years, I moved up, and when I left, my title was sous chef. Besides my boss, I met so many amazing coworkers over the years - people who have become lifelong friends. And the Christmas parties were always memorable. My boss always wanted one to be better than the last. So many memories there, good and bad.

Windsor Court. I did an externship there one summer in the pastry department. It was a good chance to work in an area I didn't have experience in. It was interesting to work in an upper echelon fine dining establishment. I kind of had an opportunity to stay on and move to the hotline, but I was kind of scared and I didn't stay.

Cafe Negril. Oh Chef Palmer. I miss your soulful food. I didn't cook there, though, I was a waitress. One of my first days there, I watched a fight between Palmer and the owner, because Palmer had left his weed in the freezer, and the owner had thrown it out or given it away - probably to be a dick. That was a fun job, but I made less and less money the more I worked there. Also, the owners, while entertaining, were scary. One owner told me I was going to have to eventually drop off the deposit, and that would mean I would have to learn to shoot a gun and carry one. In New Orleans. No fucking way. They would get shitfaced, and by the end of the night, the one owner would be accusing us of stealing money, all the while pushing drink after drink on us and trying to hit on one waitress or another.

Herbsaint. Amazing restaurant. I did horribly there. I couldn't hack it in that tiny testosterone filled kitchen.

Whole Foods. Fun fun job. Prepping shit all day, watching the customers walk by, answering their questions. Eating my discount yogurt on my lunch break. My sis worked there before me, so went I started, she got like a $100 referral bonus. And some people from different departments would often go to the bar across the street after work and have drinks. And somehow, we always got our surplus bonus every month. I got in trouble during Mardi Gras though. I didn't realize I was supposed to go in 2 hours early to open. I showed up wasted. I got in trouble. I had to make 150 pounds of different chicken salads, which made me want to throw up. The chef let all the boys go home early, and I had to stay til close all by myself.

The Delachaise. I loved getting to do whatever the fuck I wanted, foodwise. I'm sure some of it bombed, but it was like my own laboratory, to experiment with whatever ingredients I could get in small enough quantities. As far as budget and stuff, I reported to my bosses. My dramatic drinking bosses. But, I got to make anything I wanted. I had access to whatever I felt like drinking - on the clock. I didn't really get paid much, but what a fun job that was. Especially during Mardi Gras, watching all the parades go by.

And Mango House. Such great food. Caribbean yumminess. I loved almost everything on the menu. Fun place, cool people, great cocktails! Dirty little old shack though. My sis also worked with me here, although this time, I started first, without a referral bonus. But, I had a great boss who trusted me to run the place when she wasn't there - boy, what was she thinking?! Anyway, I worked there until Katrina. My one gripe was that we had to pay for Christmas party. My boss had hired her friend to cater it, kind of as a favor to him, and so that none of us had to cook. But I like cooking for parties. And I didn't want to pay someone to do it for me. And, his gumbo wasn't that good. He ended up working there for a while, and he was a cool guy, but I kinda always begrudged him that expensive gumbo!

I'm going to stop here. I kinda wrote a little about some jobs here in San Diego in a previous blog. Plus, I don't feel like writing anymore, as you probably don't feel like reading any more if you've actually read this whole thing! And anyway, how much can one go on about themselves anyway? Blah, blah blabbity blah.