Monday, January 31, 2011

Old Friends

When I talk about significant people in my life that I have lost, I discuss them here and here. I don't mean loss as in death, I mean friendships that ended but still affect me today. The first, the work friend who was so much more, I still choose not to talk about for many reasons. One of the last things she said to me, setting aside everything that had to do with the work shit, was that it had become too hard to be my friend. I never asked for clarification, knowing that I didn't want to hear what she had to say. I look back now and know that our friendship would never have lasted, we are too different. I do regret that it ended that way. (On a side note, I reread the comment from anonymous and felt so much better all over again. Thank you and I miss you.)

The second reference is to the old friend with the positive HIV status. Well, I have since learned probably not positive and definitely not sleeping with the current very close friend. Fuck, this is complicated. I over simplified before and don't really want to go into a whole lot of detail right now. Let's just say that this was my best friend for many, many years. An ex-boyfriend of a current friend, an ex-lover of a new friend.(I need to find more diversified gays. They all seem to know each other. And have slept with each other.) So, this person and I had a huge falling out that has lead to us not speaking for almost 5 years. We have mutual friends, obviously, so we heard about each other, which is how many of the rumors started.

Last week, he sent me a friend request on Facebook. The simple answer seems to be to just decline it and move on. But, I can't. I don't know why, but I can't. This person meant so much to me. And I go back and look through the email conversations that ended our friendship, and it was petty and stupid and immature. I will admit that. I will admit that I was looking for a reason to end our friendship because I felt this person was toxic and not healthy in my life. I was right, do not get me wrong. This person is toxic. But, I miss him. I really, really miss him. And some of you are rolling your eyes and calling me crazy and trying to virtually stab me. But, I do. I can't help it. He was my closest friend for a long time. I am not going to justify the things that he did in anyway shape or form. He hurt people that are very important to me. He hurt me. 

But, a part of me wants to accept the friend request. To find out what is going on in his life. To grab a beer and catch up and just talk. Like the old days, just talk. I know I will regret it. I know that it will spiral into the person who gets arrested again and again for DUI's and spends months in jail. The person whose car is covered in empty beer cans that he drinks while he is driving. The person who lies and tells people his father is dead to get things from them. I know that he is a bad person.

There is a lot of good there too. When he is not drinking, before he was this out of control person, there was a kindness. And a creativity. And a passion. And a good, good friend. He is an alcoholic. He is out of control now and unable to see how far he has fallen. I get that. I understand addiction and what it makes a person. I understand that until he gets sober, nothing will ever change. I SO TOTALLY UNDERSTAND.

I still miss him. I want one more night on his deck. One more night to say goodbye to the old friend so that I can completely let go.

I will never get that because he isn't there. I need to deny this friend request, I know that I do. But, I didn't. I haven't. I sent him a message instead, saying mostly what I said here. He responded by confronting all of our mutual friends and sending me a "get right back to you" response.

Nothing has changed. I doubt anything ever will.

But, fuck if I don't wish it would.

Sunday, January 30, 2011

Everyone should be named Tony Shaloub

Dear people in charge of late night T.V.,

Not everyone watching is a fat, depraved moron. Some of us just have insomnia issues and are too tired to read.

I do not, in fact, want to increase my bust size with a device that looks like I am giving a double hand job.

I do not want to cook 400 chicken nuggets in 4.3 seconds.

I do not believe that Audrina from The Hills has ever struggled with her weight and turned to the ab spinny thing for help. Being a worthless fame whore burns a lot of calories.

I have no need to learn how to workout and hump a chair at the same time.

Katy Perry does not have shitty skin and nobody that isn't a serial masturbator is going to be on the other end of that phone.

So, please, PLEASE put something mildly entertaining on before insomniacs unite and blow you up.

Big thanks to Tony Shaloub for showing up at 6 am. My faith in humanity has been restored.

Exhaustedly yours,
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Friday, January 28, 2011

Food Porn IV

More food porn! This week was Mexico, Central America, South America, and the Caribbean. I only have pictures from the day we did Mexico, the Caribbean and my practical today because apparently this week's theme was forget to take pictures. Yay for themes! 

 Mexican Rice. Weird, weird Mexican rice. The recipe had you cook down a bunch of stuff and puree it, then add it to the rice. Everyone else loved it, I thought it was a little mushy.
 Chicken Enchiladas. I mean, you can't go wrong here. Yummers. AND I finally found an enchilada sauce I like that doesn't taste like cumin with a hint of tomato. I dislike cumin.
 Prawn curry. Have you noticed I make a lot of curry? Can't wait until we get to India. I will probably die like that dude in the beginning of Seven. I feel like death by curry is totally the way to go.
 Our practical was different this week because we had a different chef. We were required to do an amuse bouche, a deconstructed entree, and an appetizer. This was my amuse bouche, it was grilled chicken on a chip with salsa, sour cream, and piquillo peppers.
 Another angle.
 Deconstructed chicken enchiladas served over cilantro lime rice.
 Another angle.
Grilled shrimp (I didn't soak my skewers long enough. Sad face.) with roasted tomatillo salsa.

Thursday, January 27, 2011

Soggy Chips

I tend to have a disorder where I say everything I am thinking. Not intimate things. Or important things. Just things like, oh, hey, that ladies hair is a really weird color. Or that dude is wearing a kilt. Just observations on life. It's like I need to fill the air with something sometimes. I am fine with silence, it's not that. It's just more that the moment is boring me and I would like to change that. It has led to a lot of the perception of me having a negative attitude at work because I will say that I dislike what I am doing (usually cleaning something) out loud. 

People that know me are used to this. People that don't think I am weird. And sometimes, I come across really fucking weird because I will mumble what I say, not intending anyone to really hear it. Take today, for example.

I am done with my closing duties and am cleaning the receiving table on the dish tank. 

Me: "There is a giant pile of soggy chips."

Dude on Dish: "What?"

Me (louder): "Oh, nothing. I was just saying there is a giant pile of soggy chips."

Dude on Dish: "I still didn't hear you."

Me (shouting): "It's really not a big deal, I was just saying there is a giant pile of soggy chips."

Manager walking by: "Why are you screaming at dude on dish about a giant pile of chips?"

Me: "I wasn't screaming, I just...I mean, there is a pile of soggy chips and I was just saying it was there, but then he couldn't hear me and now it is really awkward and can we please just stop talking about the pile of chips?"

Dude on Dish: "I still didn't hear you."

Manager walking by: "You were the one shouting about it."

Now, you all probably think this is funny. This is my normal, awkward self. But, people at work don't totally get me. There are some that do, but most of them have a series of experiences like this where I am the mumbling, nonsensical girl who talks about soggy chips. 

To be honest, from the outside, I would think I was a weird nonsensical girl that talks about soggy chips too.

Tuesday, January 25, 2011

In case any of you forgot, I hate people.

(Picture explanation to follow. Stupid phone. ) car got broken into Sunday night. They stole my knives. And some text books. And possibly some empty mountain dew cans. But, mostly, it was my knives. I cried like a blubbering idiot. You know who is not sympathetic to lost knives? Drag queens. I was at drag bingo. I mean, of course I was. Then I woke up Monday with either food poisoning or death. Either way, I was ready to end it all.

So I get to class today and this stupid bitch face has left me a passive aggressive note about how our class doesn't alphabetize the spices. So, I did this. Don't fuck with me, bitches. I always win passive aggressive.
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Sunday, January 23, 2011


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Friday, January 21, 2011

Food Porn III

This week was Greece, the Middle East, Russia, and Scandinavia. It was a short week because we had Monday off and Friday was a snow day.
 Hummus and babaganoush. Note: babaganoush is gross. Hummis is amazing. Served with fried pita chips.
 Green bean ragout with feta cheese.
 Chicken Kiev. Holy balls, this shit was GOOD.
This was...weird, but amazing. The dumplings are cottage cheese dumplings and the sauce is a reduction with strawberries and raspberries. It was supposed to be blackberries and raspberries, which would have been way prettier. But, seriously, delicious. It is now my go to summer dessert.

Evil is afoot

The Erratic household is living in fear because for months now we have been terrorized by him:
Sleepless nights as he bats things off the dresser at our heads.

Rugs strewn about the house. (Note: these live in the upstairs bathroom. This is the basement.)
He is into EVERYTHING. All the time. Constantly.

When we got Neil, I knew cats were independent. I knew that they were impossible to train and that you lived with the cat, the cat did not live with you. I had no idea what we were in for. Or how freaking cute he would be. Or how he would just make my heart melt over and over.

I miss the kitten. The little guy who cuddled and actually liked humans, instead of plotting how to kill us.
When his food runs out, he becomes extra special evil and runs around the house meowing and planting atomic bombs. The number one priority in our house is making sure that Neil's food bowl is full. Nobody is prepared for the consequences if it is not.

I never thought I would own a cat. I certainly wasn't prepared for what owning a cat meant. But, the cat lives up to his bad ass name...he is one bad ass cat.

Tuesday, January 18, 2011


It's not that I can't be sympathetic or empathetic. I can. I am capable of those human emotions. I am not a sociopath. It's just very rarely that people evoke those emotions from me.

If you are sick, I want to hear about it when you get well. 

"I was so sick, I am pretty sure that I puked up my kidney. And most of my intestines." I will be like, sucks, wanna grab a beer?

"I had a really high fever and I am pretty sure I shit out my appendix." I will likely tell you to get some sort of body scan because you lose a lot of organs, then ask if you want to grab a beer.

You get the point. I don't want the call where you whine about feeling like shit. I will totally bring you soup. And then I will leave. 

When I am sick, I want you to bring me soup. Then leave. I want my bed, my dogs who are incapable of forming words, and my bed. 

I feel the same way about injury. Especially injury based on stupidity. There are rules in professional kitchens for a reason.

No jewelry - metal conducts heat.

No makeup - it is flammable.

Clothing meant for kitchens - it protects you from heat and flame.

Non-slip shoes - so you don't, you know, slip.

If you break these rules every single day (AND WEAR NAIL POLISH, OMG, DIE) and then get hurt because you spill really hot liquid on your hand and are wearing a ring that conducts the heat and burns the living shit out of your skin and makes your finger swell up so big you can't get the heat conducting ring off, well...that sucks. But, seriously, you kind of asked for it. Then you soak the burn in ice water for an hour and pretty much make the whole situation worse. 

I don't feel bad for the coworker in that situation. I don't. And everyone at work called me heartless. 

I feel sorry for people who are in situations that are out of their control. People who are in situations they can't fix. Not people who are in everyday situations they can.

Maybe it does make me heartless, I don't know. Maybe I'm an ass hole and should learn to feel sorry for people. But, I refuse to ever feel sorry for someone for being a dumb ass.

Friday, January 14, 2011

Food Porn II

This week was Great Britain, Ireland, Spain, and Portugual. I was sick for Monday and Tuesday, so it will be a short week of pictures. But, a yummy week!

(Spain) Leche Frita. A dessert made of a cinnamon orange dough that is breaded and deep fried. Delicious.
 (Ireland) Colcannon. If you have never had colcannon, run to your nearest Irish/Scottish restaurant and order it now. Right. Now. Mashed potatoes, braised cabbage, bacon, scallions, and onions all mixed together with a pool of melted butter in the middle. Seriously, you guys. Do it. Now.
 (Spain) Chicken with Almond Sauce. I do not know the Spanish name off the top of my head, so deal. This was delicious. I saw a video the next day that showed traditional plating of this dish and this is not it. The sauce should be thinner (I would ALWAYS serve it this yummy) and the hard boiled egg, almonds, and parsley should make a sort of cross atop the dish. This picture makes the dish look like dog poop, but it was so good. I served it over rice.
 (Spain) Piquillo Pepper Dip. I made this to serve with a classmates deep fried egg plant. The dip was delicious, simple, and unexpected. 
(Ireland) We are into Friday, the day of my plated practical. This is my soup, Cheddar Beer Soup. I used Guinness as the beer, which was a mistake. It made it this poop brown color and it tasted like, well, Guinness. Not my crowning moment. But, the plating isn't awful. If it weren't for the color...
 (Great Britain) Chicken Curry. There is nothing, and I mean nothing, that makes me happier than a perfect curry. And this was it. I don't toot my own horn often, but this shit was bad ass. It is garnished with toasted coconut, roasted peanuts, and mango chutney. It was the perfect mix of spicy and sweet, just the way a curry should be. 
(Great Britain) This was my side, a minted pea puree. It was really good...for peas. Not my favorite vegetable. 

I also realized that I need to figure out a different angle for all my pictures. Yeesh. Just because it is a cell phone doesn't mean it has to make the food look like this...Believe it or not, some of these plates look beautiful. I think I need to make photography a bigger priority rather than quickly snapping pictures and then digging in!

Thursday, January 13, 2011


I sit, waiting for 6:00, so I can don my black baseball cap and perfectly pressed white chef's jacket. People watching, listening to customer's comments.

Young high school kids, oh, it's so cute!

Hipsters in clever hats feeling surrounded by their favorite self indulgent sophistication.

New or soon to be mothers, prattling on about organic food and its oh so many benefits.

The spotlight over every table, like rows and rows of stereotypes that make me giggle.

Trendy. Hip. The place to be? I don't even know what to call it. I just know it makes me crave dim lighting and a bad ass beer list. Maybe even a cheap formica table or two.
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Tuesday, January 11, 2011


You guys, I am bored. So bored that I am watching a 16 and Pregnant marathon. It has been a long ass time since I have been this fever, can't move, sleeping 20 hours a day sick. Work is probably going to fire me because I called off three days in a row. OK, probably not.

Anyway, on to the point of this post: 16 year old knocked up bitches. Some of these girls really weren't educated and have shit hole parents and I feel bad for them. One girl just didn't take the birth control her parents got for her. Others are just stupid knocked up bitches. But, the guys? Holy ass holes. One of the guys told the mother of his little girl that she was a fat stretch marked bitch and asked where to sign to make that mistake go away. Another said he wasn't ready to commit to just one person.

So, here is my thing...why is it always the girl with her parents and their struggles? Where the fuck is the guy and his parents and their struggles? The guys are like extras on the show? AND WHY THE FUCK ARE WE GLORIFYING TEEN PREGNANCY? I get that the show is supposed to be discouraging it, but it's not like they show these girls fighting against all odds to make their lives better. Almost all of them drop out or get home schooled, only to later drop out.

It just upsets me that we watch these girls in abusive situations, sometimes impossible situations, and nobody is doing anything. We just sit and watch these boys be cruel, parents hit or abandon them, and them struggle with something I am not even sure I could handle,

Yet, I sit here watching, being part of the problem, popping cold medicine and yelling at the T.V.

I think it's time for a nap. Anger makes me tired.
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Monday, January 10, 2011

Cute is overrated.

As I sit here surrounded by used tissues, wearing sweat pants and a Napoleon Dynamite T-Shirt with no bra, all I can think is holy fuck, I am not cute. And I'm not. I am never that girl that goes shopping and comes home with all these cute clothes. My hair never looks cute, I never buy super big sunglasses that I get compliments on. I buy things for comfort, I go to the grocery store with my hair a hot fucking mess wearing sweat pants and a hoodie. Often. I wear sports bras more often than regular bras. When I wear heels, I have a back up pair of shoes in my car. I never carry a purse unless I am travelling or I need more than my phone, chapstick, and a wallet. 

I always have a tube of burt's bees in my pocket.

I remember looking at my mom growing up and thinking, I will never wear track suits to the grocery store (I do) or I will never cut my hair super short so I don't have to do anything with it (not yet.) But, I find myself not caring. I find my self uncomfortable in heels and form fitting tops.

I don't want to be this way. I want to be the person who has the cute clothes and enjoys dressing up. Part of it is that 40 lbs ago, that wasn't really possible. My choices were clothes that looked like tents and heels that hurt so bad I couldn't function. As I continue to lose weight and focus more on a healthy lifestyle (I say this as I am riddled with bronchitis and trying not to throw out my back from coughing) I am getting more into cute clothes. I am more comfortable in my own skin. 

So, maybe there is hope for me to one day be cute. To wear cute dresses and tops. I will probably never tame my hair or wear heels unless I have to. And I am pretty OK with that.

This post brought to you by hallucinations on cold medication and Vernors.

Friday, January 7, 2011

Food Porn

I am going to try to start taking pictures of my food since I am now in international kitchen and no longer making boring French food all the time. 

This week was Germany and Italy. I also made Porkolt, which I forgot to take a picture of because there was a potato dumpling crisis that required my attention. Each day we do a buffet for the school and then on Friday is a plated practical. 
 This is a curried butternut squash and apple soup. We had to choose one day to do a vegetarian dish of any region, so naturally I chose something with curry. Shocker.
 Gnocchi di Semonlina. Yummers. Basically it is semolina flour patties coated in herb butter and parmesan cheese and  baked until slightly golden.
 I forget the exact name of this, but it is ham and cheese stuffed pockets. This was day 1 of making these and they were awful. Stay tuned.
 Green Eggs and Ham! Except we were out of green asparagus, so it is White Eggs and Ham! Still beautiful. When you cut into the deep fried soft boiled eggs, the yolk oozes out. And the sauce is gorgonzola cream. Probably the best thing I have ever made in my life.
 Round 2 - switched to bread flour to make the dough more tender, added a little sage to the filling, and let the dough rest longer. Delicious.
Weiner Schnitzel with a mustard cream sauce. Braised brussell sprouts with bacon. Potato pancakes with homemade apple sauce. I don't really like the plating on this. I should have plated it differently, but I was in a hurry because I completely over did it and made too much. I also made a potato leek soup. We only had an hour and a half. Sometimes I am a crazy person. But, I got the best grade in the class. 

To sell out or not to sell out, that is the question.

I am torn. Stuck. I am facing a point in my culinary education where I need to make a decision on where to do my externship. Most of the managers at my current job have asked me to stay on and do it there, with hints of a partnership promise in the future. This means money. Stability. Being with a company that is doing some innovative things and plans on doing nothing but growing over the next 10 years. 

On the other side it means not cooking much food. At least not the kind of cooking I want to do. I want to create dinner specials and make sauces and be a chef. Not a restaurant manager. 

I am so torn because one route means security with a company that I respect and like and the other means a lot of job hopping and not a lot of money for a long, long time.

I was stuck at the bank forever because I couldn't find another job where I made that kind of money. This has the opportunity to blow that money out of the water. Ugh. 

I hate these decisions. I have a long time to live my dream, right? I can put in my dues and save up money to open my own restaurant, right? Or take a huge pay cut and go back to being a chef. 

Am I selling out? I mean, it's not like this is a bad place to work. Look how pretty. 

Fuck. Please tell me I am not selling out...