All Was Well

I'm finished. That's all I'm gonna say. I'll tell you that it's good and that your questions are all answered. A few new ones come up, the answers to which we can only argue about because it's unlikely we'll get anything concrete about them in the years to come. They're not terribly important though.

A funny thing happened when I finished reading the last page. I couldn't bring myself to close the book. I just kind of stared at the last paragraph for almost five minutes, smiling and laughing at my trepidation. When I finally got the nerve, I closed the book, set it aside...and then started reading it again.

A Good Plan Foiled

As the release of the seventh and final Harry Potter book loomed like the prospect of an outstanding bottle of wine, I found myself trying to figure out how to handle it. Hey check it out, I'm prosaic today! It's because I've read too much...of a...book...no particular book just a book...hey...stop badgering me...I can put it down whenever I like...no I won't tell you what page I'm on! I told you to leave me alone!

I'm sleep deprived and I have the lovely Ms. J.K. Rowling to thank for it. Yes, I bought the book last night and yes, I had tremendous difficulty putting it down to get some work done this morning. I'm only annoyed because I had a perfectly good plan for dealing with the release of Book Seven. I worked late last night. Much later then normal and I didn't get of until about eleven thirty. I knew that would be the case. I'm also working late tonight.

I thought it best that, considering my busy weekend, I should buy the book Sunday morning. By then the stores wouldn't be crowded. I could pick up my copy, maybe have a cup of coffee and then spend the whole day reading. This way I wouldn't have to go through what I'm going through right now which is writing as fast as I can so I can get back to reading. I wouldn't go through what I'm about to go through at work which is a long, arduous shift during which I won't be able to focus on serving because I'll be concerned about the book. What's going to happen? What if my apartment burns down and I can't find another copy? What if I'm hit by a falling piano on my way to my car after the shift? This won't do at all!

You see my problem. None of this would have happened if I hadn't run out of parmesan cheese. I told you before, I can't eat without cheese. It's a practical impossibility. I got off work late. I only needed to warm up dinner and go to bed. But on my way home, I remembered that I was out of parmesan. This meant I had to stop at Kroger's. I pulled in, expecting to run in and run right back out. Guess what Kroger's had on their shelves because by the time I got there, it was after midnight? I paced the aisles for fifteen minutes before I realized what a jackass I was being. I bought the damn book and that stupid package of cheese and I haven't looked back. Man, tonight's shift is gonna suck.

Of my progress thus far, I will only say this. I'm further then I'd like to admit. Is it good? Of course it's good. The woman's written six outstanding books about this story. Did you really think she'd blow it now by killing everybody but Hagrid and Bellatrix on the third page then sending them down the Mississippi River on a raft for the rest of the book? Get a grip. I only know that I've now wasted twenty minutes writing when I could have been reading. Lemme alone, dammit, I'm going back to my book!


"It's not right. It's not fair. I'm still a mess and you still don't care." - Fountains of Wayne

Waveland Blues

“Do they still play the blues in Chicago when baseball season rolls around? When the snow melts away do the Cubbies still play in their ivy covered burial ground?” - Steve Goodman

Yeah…yeah, they still do. Believe me, I watched them play a whole nine inning game on Sunday. They had uniforms and announcers and everything. They even won.

What still kills me about Steve Goodman's song "A Dying Cub Fan's Last Request" is that, even though it's twenty five years old, every word of it is true to this day. This post has nothing to do with organic cooking or shopping or living. My mind’s been on something of an overload since I watched an HBO special on the fans of the Chicago Cubs called “Wait ‘Til Next Year”.

See I like sports but I’m not what one would call a general sports fanatic. I don’t watch Sports Center very often. ESPN’s handy on occasion but certainly not the end all be all. I do like to watch golf. I think racing (horses and cars) is ridiculous. The truth is that I don’t follow sports so much as I follow teams. Specifically, I’m fanatical about Kentucky football and basketball and worst of all, Chicago Cubs Baseball.

It’s easy being a Kentucky basketball fan. The worst of times, like the past couple years, would be cause for absolute celebration among ninety percent of college basketball programs. We win national titles every few years. Hell, we expect to win national titles and we go nuts like it’s never happened before every time we do.

Kentucky football, well, it’s not entirely unlike being a Cubs fan but there’s a huge difference. Right about the time everything starts going to shit, we all breathe a big sigh of relief because we know basketball season’s right around the corner. As a Cubs fan that big sigh only ever comes on opening day because it’s the only day of the season when we can say with absolute certainty that our team will at least be tied for first place if they win. That’s all we get.

I’ve had my share of disappointments at the hands of the Cubs. They’ve been commonplace throughout history. I wasn’t around for the Lou Brock trade or Ron Santo and the black cat in the fall of ’69. I don’t remember Fergie Jenkins or Ernie Banks and I was still too young to understand what Steve Garvey did to us in ’84. I remember ’89 though.

I remember being so excited because the eighties were kind of mediocre and ultimately devastating for UK Basketball. The Cubs playing in the postseason was the first time one of my teams had a real chance to win a title. It was over before it started. The Giants (with Will Clark and his damn gum and his eye black) knocked us out in five games. I happened so quick I didn’t have time to be crushed. That was it until 2003, which gave me the biggest disappointment I’ve ever had watching sports. Screw the '92 Duke game. This is the one that still stings.

I wasn’t in Chicago the night Steve Bartman got in the way of that foul ball but I remember exactly where I was and what I was doing. A really close friend of mine had just died a few weeks prior and I was at the beginning of what would prove to be the most trying 365 day period of my life. The events of that series were like just a little extra salt in an all ready gaping wound. It’s funny to me that, through everything that happened that year, I remember a baseball game amongst it all.

What’s funny is that Kentucky could win another national title in basketball and I’ll go crazy with everyone else. They could win fifteen straight, send all John Wooden’s records down the toilet and I’ll be happy as a clam. But I’ll probably do it from the comforts of my own living room. If the Cubs just make it to the World Series, I’ll go sleep on Waveland Avenue. I’ll go back to eating red meat and hot dogs and disgusting greasy food for a week just to get a breath of the atmosphere that would be Chicago watching their boys get a shot at that title.

Would I really do all that? Maybe. But even if I didn’t…well I don’t think it would change my life or anything but it would be one of those days that I would always be able to say exactly where I was and exactly what I was doing.

I wanna write about this a little bit more but I’ll have to do it later. I’m sleepy. I blame my grandfather for the whole thing. I remember watching games on WGN with him and my grandmother from the time I was really little. It’s amazing the kind of effect that sports can have on a community. Now and then it gets crazy but most of the time it’s very cool and occasionally it’s amazing.

Organic Dementia #7: The Quest for the Organic Grit Pt. 1

Let me start this off by pointing out that I am a Kentuckian stuck, for better or worse, in Tennessee, which is not the Deep South. This is the buckle of the Bible Belt. There are touches of southern accents but they are not Alabama accents (which have never heard the term "white collar") and they sure as hell aren’t North Carolina accents (which have an aristocracy all their own).

Jack Daniels may be king here but he does not make Bourbon. Despite recent successes, UT is no more a basketball school then UK is a football school. These people might own horses but they’re not horse people. I am a “pilgrim in an unholy land”, lost in an area filled with southerners and southern cuisine and southern values. These are not Kentucky values nor is there Kentucky cooking (which is really just a mish-mash of a lot of different styles). Bottom line, I am Kentuckian not a southerner. This is why the concept and usefulness of grits was totally lost on me until I met Jason McConnell.

Jason’s the owner and head chef at the restaurant where I work. If you follow the link on the right to the Red Pony’s website, he’s that trendily photographed fellow at the bottom of the main page sporting the soul patch and the “I’m cooler then you” look on his face. That’s gentle ribbing by the way. He’s a very nice guy and he’s good at what he does. Jason’s a southerner and grits are a mainstay at the restaurant.

One day not too long after I started working there, I ran downstairs to eat before line-up. Most days the kitchen crew throws together something (usually leftovers) for the staff to eat before the shift. It’s called family meal. On this particular day they had fried up some catfish and served it over cheese grits. Intrigued I grabbed a plate and headed back upstairs to eat.

It was damn tasty and the rest of the service staff was raving about it right along with me. A few minutes later Jason walks into the room and sits at the head of the table listening to us. He gets an incredulous sort of look on his face and says in his thick southern drawl, “Y’all act like you ain’t ever had catfish and grits before, damn.” His tone suggests that everyone but a few home schooled children in Northern California must have eaten this combination at some point.

There’s a quiet, embarrassed kind of silence from nearly everyone in the room (especially me) that speaks volumes. Somewhere in the deep recesses of my brain I’m thinking, “Fuck no, I’ve never had catfish and grits! Who in their right mind would think to put the two of them together?!?!” all the while licking the bottom of my plate, wondering if there’s any left.

Ever since, I’ve been sort of hooked. I’m pretty sure that outside the states north of Tennessee and west of Arkansas, most folks are like I was when it comes to grits. They’re that soupy crap that Cracker Barrel tries to pass off as a side item with every single one of their meals. Nobody eats them because nobody’s really sure if they’re food or some kind of cleaning solution. I've learned from watching Jason that grits are an easy, useful, versatile starch that breaks the norm of potatoes or pasta or rice. I've seen cheese grits, green chile grits, garlic grits, blue corn grits, grits parmesan, bacon cheddar grits, sweet chile grits...I could probably go on but, lest I sound like that guy in Forest Gump, I'll stop there.

Remember when I said that before I ran with this organic thing I used to buy food with every intention of making it on my day off but rarely doing so? I pulled that with grits. I didn’t buy instant grits. I bought these things called “quick grits”. They cook fast (ten minutes or so) and there’s no difference in taste that I know of. Catch is that buying grits is like buying flour. It’s hard to buy just a little bit. I’m still working my way through that one bag I bought over a month ago. They’re made by Quaker. They’re handy but they’re not organic.

Which leads me to my problem…do they make organic grits? I should hope so because you can buy organic corn and grits come from corn…don’t they? What the hell is a grit anyway? Do I really need to watch “My Cousin Vinny” again? This has taken a little bit of research and a little bit of time but I have the answers! At least, I think I do. My quest is coming to a close…

…it’s just a shame that you won’t be able to read about it until tomorrow because I have other things to do today. Take care.


“I come from the Bluegrass; where it’s whiskey for lunch, moonshine for dinner and then we start drinkin’.” – Nick Piascik

Chef Support

There’s a certain kind of freedom associated with cooking for yourself. If it sucks, who’s gonna care? Thus far I’ve only made one thing that was completely inedible. Before all this, I'd never baked for myslef. My tiny forays into over the last few weeks have all been firsts. I love scones so I decided to start there. I also decided that using pre-made mixes seemed like a cop-out. What’s so hard? Flour, baking powder, sugar, salt, eggs, milk…wash, rinse, repeat. That’s it, right?

Well…yeah, that is pretty much it. I found a few basic recipes online then mixed and matched until I came up with one that sounded right. I’ve had to work out the ratios a little. The first time I made them I ended up with ten massive ass scones that went stale after a few days. I’m not baking for an army here. Then last week, I misread my notes for the baking powder, mistaking teaspoons for tablespoons. Know what baking powder takes like? I DO!!! Yeah, those went in the garbage pretty damn quick.

They should have tech support for this kind of thing, don’t you think? It’s all the rage for computers, why not cooking? You know, one of those eight hundred numbers with ads that come on late at night between “Tickle Tiffany” or “Luscious Lolita” commercials. Ninety-nine cents for the first minute, twenty dollars each additional minute plus a small connection fee, I’m telling you there’s gold in them hills. I’ll call it 1-800-EMERILSUCKS or maybe 1-800-CRAPPYCHEF. For example:

“Thank you for calling 1-800-ICANTCOOK. What can I help you with?”

“I just made scones. They look fine but they taste like something I smelled in chemistry class…what happened?”

“You put in two tablespoons of baking powder instead of two teaspoons. That disgusting taste should rinse out of your mouth in the next few months. Don’t be retarded next time. Have a great night!”

CLICK


Or maybe this one…

“Thank you for calling
1-800-THENAKEDCHEFCANTPOSSIBLYBESTRAIGHT.
May I be of some assistance?”

“How do I grill tuna?”

“Throw it on the damn grill and don’t burn it. Are you cooking or building thermo-nuclear weapons? Jesus…”

CLICK


See, in my warped little world this would be the first help line run entirely by former restaurant employees. “Assistance with a pissy attitude!” would be our motto. Employees would be rewarded for achieving high levels of sarcasm or for their ability to remain irritating under pressure. They'd be "former restaurant employees" because they could quit serving because I would pay them outrageous salaries and give them kick ass benefits. They'd have time to spend with their families or drink heavily or explore their psycholotropic substance of choice. Nobody works baked like a server.

That’s it, I’m giving up this writing schtick and starting my eight hundred number. It’s gonna be huge, you’ll see. I’ll be laughing at all of you from my house on the hill built entirely on my employees’ ability to annoy the hell out of my customers. Okay, admittedly this is ridiculous and pertinent to absolutely nothing. I promise I'll do something a little more worthwhile tomorrow. 'Til then!


“This ain’t no bright new morning. This ain’t no brand new day.” – Adam Duritz

Organic Dementia #6: Smoking Section

Sometimes you go to bed one night and then wake up eight days later wondering what the hell happened. It’s been one of those weeks for me. I sat down after work last night, curious as to how the last few days had managed to get away from me like that. After some thought (and a couple beers), I think I put my finger on it.

This week did suck…righteously. Money’s a little tight and I had a short run of bad luck at work. I’ve been waiting tables long enough at this point to know that things like that happen. It’s not anybody’s fault. It just happens. Sometimes your tables don’t spend the money you expect or you get lots of two tops instead of four tops or large parties that book for fifteen people only have ten show up. Like I said, it happens and if your restaurant is worth it’s salt then it’ll balance out. Oi vey, did we ever balance out last night. Sixteen hours removed from the shift and my feet still hurt.

So (for those of you that don’t know me personally) my dirty, dirty little secret regarding all this healthy living talk is that I’m a smoker. I have been since I was sixteen. My days as one have been numbered for a while now, especially as my thirtieth birthday starts to loom. I know that smokers are always saying that they want to quit or they will quit when they’re ready or they’re cutting back or whatever. This isn’t me making a big sweeping announcement saying “GOOD EVENING WORLD!!! I’M QUITTING SMOKING!! FUCK YOU PHILLIP MORRIS!!!” It’s just me wondering about the realities of quitting and knowing in my heart that it’s coming.

Some small part of me has always felt that my identity as a person was defined in part by the fact that I smoke. People expect it of me. I’ve been vocal about my right to do so in the past. Before I moved from Lexington, I based my vote in a mayoral election around the issue of a public smoking ban. I know it sounds dumb but I used to wonder, if I wasn’t a smoker, who would I be?

Ridiculous, right? I hear you. I’m not worried about that anymore. I think I’ve got enough going on that an identity crisis is the least of my concerns. So with that out of the way, the logistics of stopping have started to come up.

There’s nothing organic, environmentally safe or healthy about smoking. It goes against everything I’ve been working toward in the last month. Last Thursday, right about the time I started thinking about it along those lines, a funny thing happened. I ran out of cigarettes. It was a little after midnight and I was really tired so I just decided not to run to the store.

Next day I thought I’d try something. It wasn’t intended as a method of quitting. I’ve changed a lot in the last few weeks and I thought I’d give the food thing a little time then move on to quitting smoking. So I went to a tobacco store and picked up a pouch of American Spirit’s loose leaf, organic blend. I’ve known how to roll my own cigarettes for years. One of those not at all useful skills I picked up a while back. I thought that maybe if I went this route for a while, I’d get used to it and then at least I’d still be on the organic track. Who knows, it might even slow me down, right?

It was dreadful. Four days of it and those things damn near killed me. Strong tobacco, no filter, ouch. At the end of day three, I hacked up both my lungs, re-attached them and decided to reverse course the next day.

What I didn’t realize was that it really did slow me down. So much so that it took me four days (ending with last night) to get through my next two packs. When you roll your own cigarettes, you have to plan out when you’re gonna smoke. Without realizing it, I’d stopped smoking in the car. I would only have one during my shift at work. I couldn’t smoke throughout my writing time. During those four day I only had maybe five or six each day.

I also noticed for the first time what smoking all these years has done to me. That constant feeling like my sinuses were clogged started to clear. My voice sounded a little smoother. My throat didn’t hurt at all. I especially noticed it while singing. I won't say that I really play the guitar. I hit the strings with a little piece of plastic and sometimes noises come out. I harbor no delusions whatsoever about being much of a singer but I do sing along when I play. This is not something I do around other people and I feel bad for my neighbors. That said, my voice doesn't seem to wear out as easily and I can get things out louder and clearer then before. It doesn't sound quite so nasal either.

I realize that all this may seem retarded to you non-smokers but gimme a break, I’ve been at this (literally) my entire adult life. On another note, I always assumed that coffee went naturally with cigarettes but (surprise, surprise) my coffee tastes a hell of a lot better when I don’t smoke so damn much with it.

Let me re-iterate that I have not quit. Yet. The important thing for me is that I have a clearer sort of picture as to what my life will be like when I do quit and that’s huge. I know that the end result will be really cool. I also know that the road there is gonna be a little bumpy but not too bad. What I figured out last night as I was going to bed is that I’ve probably been a little cranky and out of it this week because I had cut back so much on smokes. I went from somewhere between one and two packs a day to about half a pack a day in less then a week. That’s a significant cut back on nicotine, which is good, but my system needed some time to adjust.

So that’s where I’ve been. I do apologize for not posting but as crappy a week as this was, it was a big step in a lot of ways. I was grumpy and tired and I had some trouble sleeping but I still cooked every single night. I didn’t break or even get tempted to eat fast food or burgers or red meat or anything. I am right where I wanted to be despite life throwing me a couple of curve balls. I also took the first tiny, tiny step towards dropping my nastiest habit.

I hope the week’s been good to everyone and I should be back to regular posting this week. There’s lots more to tell. Until then, take care!


"The poets tell how Pancho fell and Lefty's living in cheap hotels. The desert's quiet and Cleveland's cold, so the story ends we're told." - Townes Van Zandt

Organic Dementia #5: Strawberry Overages

I admit I got off on a tangent the other day and I do apologize. I have a deep seeded empathy for small business owners that's only grown over the years. I'm not saying it's bad but I certainly don't mean to get preachy.

That said, my vacation's shutting down and I'm in a crunch to finish up some little things (laundry mainly) so this post will be mercifully shorter. I thought I'd take a crack at posting a couple recipes since this has all brought out my adventurous kitchen nature. Surely you've gotten the point by now that all these ingredients are organic where possible, so don't ask

Admittedly I sort of ripped off parts of this one from work. It's not at all identical but the idea is the same. It's a very quick salad that's pretty tasty and it's easy to throw together as long as you have the parts.

You'll need:

A couple handfuls of fresh spinach
Two or three strawberries
Shelled walnuts
Some sort of bleu cheese dressing
A mixing bowl

Slice up the strawberries. You can also crush the walnuts if you like. It tastes fine either way but it's a little easier to eat if you crush 'em. Throw everything in a bowl then give it a few good tosses. I use a bleu cheese vinagrette (bottled and organic) because it's not near as heavy and I'm not big on overly creamy dressing anyway. This whole process takes about four minutes, tops and it makes for a nice lunch. That trip to the McDonald's drive thru would take you five times as long.

Okay, so since I'm not overly wealthy, I have to be careful about waste. Fresh spinach and strawberries don't have a terribly long shelf life so I gotta use 'em within a week/ten days of purchase. Spinach is easy because it goes with everything. Personally I use it with pastas pretty much constantly. The trick with spinach is not to overcook it. Add it to whatever your making at the last possible second, give it a couple tosses then serve it. Otherwise you'll cook all the vitamins right out of it.

Strawberries were something of a trick for me. I ate that salad three days running then got sick of it but I had to use the fruit for something. I also had alot of green tea laying around from the last cold I had back in February. I don't usually drink green tea because it's got caffeine. I get that from my coffee in the morning and during the day, I'd rather have something cold so I stick with water. Strawberries...green tea...hmmmm.

Here's what I came up with. It's good. I fucked it up the first time around but I got it right yesterday. Keep in mind this won't be ready to serve until about six hours after you start.

You'll need:

Ten bags of green tea (I use Tazo)
Ten to twelve strawberries, sliced
A tray's worth of ice cubes
Eighty Oz. of water
5 tbs. sugar
A large pot
A big ass pitcher


Bring the water to a boil then remove it from the heat. Stir in the sugar until it dissolves completely. Drop in the tea bags and give them 45 minutes or so to steep. This will allow the tea to cool off a bit as well. In the meantime, slice up the strawberries and set them aside.

After the tea has steeped, drop the ice cubes in the pitcher and pour in the tea. This will shock the tea so it cools even more. Remove the remaining ice cubes right away so they don't fuck up the water to tea ratio. The tea should still be warm but cool enough to the touch. The point is that you don't want to cook the strawberries.

Drop in the strawberrries, leave a couple tea bags in the pitcher for flavor, then stick it in the fridge for a few hours, then drink up. It's good stuff. If you like your tea really sweet then you may want to add a little sugar but what I mixed in orginally was plenty for me.

Collect 'em, trade 'em, show 'em to your friends and in the meantime, take care.


"A man lies in his bed in a room with no door. He waits hoping for a presence, something, anything, to enter. After spending half his life searching, he still felt as blank as the ceiling at which he stared. He is alive, but feels absolutely nothing. So is he? When he was six he believed that the moon over head followed him. By nine he had deciphered the illusion, trading magic for fact. No trade backs. So this is what it's like to be an adult. If he only knew now what he knew then." - Pearl Jam