You Ain't The Devil! Where's My Waitress?

Many of you know that when I travel I usually have a restaurant in mind as a primary destination. Sometimes it's to a 4-Star place to be dazzled like at Fleur De Lys in San Fran, sometimes a retail place like City Bakery in NYC, and quite often a local legend greasy spoon joint like my recent jaunt to Ben's Chili Bowl in D.C.

In Jonesboro, Arkansas there ain't much, let me tell you, but I've been in search of a great burger. What makes a great burger, you might ask? Well, a great burger is typically but not always hand formed from ground beef. Angus, choice, prime, sirloin, tenderloin, hormone free, chuck, or Japanese Kobe--doesn't matter. It's ground beef, and by law in most places it's cooked medium-well to well so who cares what cow it came from and what it costs?

To be honest I prefer my burgers medium to medium-well. I think that this is the range in which ground beef has the most flavor. I like steaks bleeding rare, "black & blue" or Pittsburgh-style, but a burger med-well with bacon, thinly sliced grilled (almost caramelized) onions, and freshly grilled raw jalapenos, not the ubiquitous pickled slices that adorn a well made stack of nachos. And for cheese, yellow American please. Who does this really well? Five Guys!

Now at times I do get in the mood for a mushroom and swiss burger with real swiss cheese and properly sauteed mushrooms. The 'shrooms should be sliced about 3/16" thick and seared in a "schtinking hot" pan. That's a European culinary instructor's description of a pan so hot that you can smell the metal. Don't forget the salt and black pepper, and keep them medium-rare in the middle.

Or there's the blue cheese burger with thin slices of red onion sauteed and piled on with blue cheese crumbles. Spend a bunch of money on Roquefort or Stilton if you want, but it all amounts to blue cheese at the end of the day. By the way, if it's an American or English cheese it is appropriate to write "blue" not "bleu". The Soda Shop in Davidson, NC does this one splendidly. Alongside they also serve my favorite burger accompaniment, the long forgotten and nearly impossible to find anymore cottage fry--1/4" thick coins of fried potatoes that almost souffle a little bit when you fry them.

The bun? I don't care, but it should be soft and warm. If you take the time to grill it so it's a little crispy around the outer edges that's nice but not necessary. No fancy kaiser rolls, ciabatta, brioche, or otherwise froo-froo bread. Just a freakin' bun please. Too small for the burger is better than too big.

Grease? Yes. Not juice...grease. There was a place in Matthews, NC many years ago called Roney's Grill--a middle-of-nowhere greasy spoon where they rarely scraped the grill and the old dirty bits that stuck to your burger and burned was an important part of the seasoning. I still can recall fondly that taste in my mouth's memories! They had the right grease.

Chili? Mr. K's in Charlotte has a decent burger and decent chili...neither are great, but decent. But when combined with the taste of the char grill there...magic!

Condiments? Here's where I differ from most, sadly. No raw vegetables and no sauces for me. Salad goes in a bowl, and as comedian John Pinette says, "Salad is not food". Ketchup doesn't belong on anything, and mustard definitely doesn't go with it. Sorry.

The Penguin in Charlotte...sublime grease. Perhaps the best. Big Block Burger with onion strings on the side.

The Beacon in Spartanburg, SC...the burger about a 7...the onion rings about a 19...the bacon, about 1/4 pound. The combination...my death bed last meal wish!

Lenny's Burger in Phoenix makes a rockin' green chili cheese burger and McDonald's in southwest Colorado even does a good job when the chilies come in from Hatch, NM each summer. Harvey's Wineburger in Phoenix hand forms each patty and steams them in wine at the end, but it's not as amazing as it sounds. Pretty anticlimactic actually.

$500 foie gras and truffle burgers in Vegas? $186 Burger King burger in London? Get the fuck out of here. Who needs that? By the way, I got food poisoning once...at Burger King. Burger King sucks anywhere at any price.

I almost forgot what this article was about. It's about my quest for a great burger in Arkansas. My boss has been talking about this magical place where they have the most amazing thing that could ever be called a hamburger. A place that childhood culinary fantasies are made of. They have a huge cast iron skillet that has about a half inch of grease in it and that's where they make the burgers and the fries. I can't wait. When can we go?

Well, last Saturday night we went. And on the way he decides that the place that has the skillet is in Memphis, and the place we're going he's never been to afterall.

So off we go. Nearly 30 minutes and 15 miles north of Jonesboro on State Highway 49, through hill, dale, and Goobertown we arrive at Roy's First and Last Chance in Paragould, Arkansas.

The story goes that Roy's started out as a one room party shack in the middle of nowhere and as the news spread the place grew. One room was added over here and another over there, but the ground was (and still is) unlevel so each room is on a different plane--very aggravating if you're drunk. Funny too when everyone else is but you.

Jonesboro is a dry county so Roy's was a treat. Not only can you watch perfectly good rednecks drink more than they should, but you can sit at your table and smoke while you do it. The room is dark (cuts down on the cleaning). The walls and ceilings are made of chipboard and covered with magic marker graffiti from everyone that's ever been in the place.

The tables are wooden picnic tables that are bolted to the floor with attached benches. There is a bar and in front of that bar is a row of barstools. The stools probably used to belong to a diner and stood in front of the standard counter height counter. Now they are bolted onto a 6x6 that is bolted to the floor in front of the bar to raise them to bar height. The floor is covered by what appears to be roofing paper tacked down with roofing nails.

A modest amount of unrelated memorabilia adorns the walls, one piece being the menu. As I later found out it is actually "A" menu, not "THE" menu. I'll come back to that.

The kitchen is about the size and shape of a bug and vermin filled closet and most people wouldn't eat anything that came from the place, but I don't care.

I suspect there was music playing but I don't remember what. I was fixated on the fact that the hostess that greeted us was also the bartender, the waitress, and the cook. There were no other visible employees in the place until about 45 minutes later when her husband showed up, had a beer, and made his way to the closet to start grilling burgers and frying cheese balls as fast as he could, which wasn't very fast.

Customers went behind the bar and helped themselves to beer shuffling through the stack of tabs on the bar and marking their purchases. Seemed like business as usual. There was a cocky looking, gum smacking Burt Reynolds type leaning on the backside of the bar. We wondered if he might be Roy, but if he was he certainly didn't seem phased that we and two other tables had been there for nearly an hour and had not been invited to order.

Robo-Waitress did furnish us with several beers and my canned Coke. Said she'd come back shortly to take our order but she didn't.

About 8:45 or so, an hour after we arrived, she approached our table and asked what we wanted. I began asking questions and ordering off of the menu on the wall. When I asked if they had bacon for my burger I was told they didn't. "Why not?", I asked. "Because this is Roy's", was the answer--nothing more.

Then I ordered Spicy Fries off of the menu on the wall and she said that that menu is old and that they don't have most of what's on it, including the prices. I had barely mustered a look of bewilderment when a friend of hers came to our table and handed her a cell phone, call in progress.

She took the phone and started talking, telling the caller that she was in the middle of taking an order and asked if he or she could hold on a second. He or she apparently couldn't hold on so the conversation proceeded. It was unevident whether she was asking us to hold on or asking her friend if they wanted mayonnaise.

We finally got the order in and about 30 minutes later we actually got 3 burgers and 3 orders of fries. Good timing too. I was about to eat the corner off of our picnic table.

This was a half-pound burger, hand-formed, well-done, and cold, but the fries were hot and not bad. Decent grease. The jalapenos on my burger were the pickled ones and the cheese, cold and unmelted white American. It's called Swiss American but I don't know why.

About the time we got done eating the band showed up. As they were setting up, one of the guys stepped into our barroom with the announcement, "Does anyone here have a roll of duct tape in your truck? I'll buy you a beer if you do". The only thing funnier than the fact that someone did was the fact that everyone there except me drove a truck. In fact there's only 6 of us in the county that drive cars, and 4 of us are from out of state.

I have no idea how much the bill was and we never spoke to Robo-Waitress again. She stood at the bar for most of the next half hour or so with a Parliment Light 100 hanging out of her mouth, perusing the bar tabs. I threw ten bucks on the table and we left, never to return most likely.

Back to skillets...

FYI, the World's Largest Functional Frying Pan lives in Rose Hill, North Carolina...my home state. They use it every year for a big chicken festival, and apparently in between festivals it reeks with the putrid stench of old fried chicken. I've never seen it, but I've been to Roy's. My advice--go see the pan.

Oh, and one more thing. If a burger weighs more than 6 ounces (before cooking) it needs to be split into 2 thinner burgers and called a "double". Just my opinion. Hands down the best double meat burger in the country...consistent, affordable, and yummy, is the Double, Double at In and Out Burger in Southern California. You get a double burger the way it's supposed to be, two beef patties and two slices of cheese. Get it with grilled onions and hand-cut fries for about the same price as Mickey D's and 101 times better. For the burger monster in you ask for a 4x4 (not on the menu). That's 4 meat patties and 4 slices of cheese. Yum!

Hold The Onions

A friend sent an interesting email the other day and I wanted to post it here and expand on my personal experience. So many sensational email warnings are circulating these days that Snopes can't research the facts fast enough. This one is quite true however, even if it may be remote.

The author writes:

"I have used an onion which has been left in the fridge, and sometimes I don't use a whole one at one time, so save the other half for later.

Now with this info, I have changed my mind....will buy smaller onions in the future.

I had the wonderful privilege of touring Mullins Food Products, Makers of mayonnaise. Mullins is huge, and is owned by 11 brothers and sisters in the Mullins family. My friend, Jeanne, is the CEO.

Questions about food poisoning came up, and I wanted to share what I learned from a chemist.

The guy who gave us our tour is named Ed. He's one of the brothers. Ed is a chemistry expert and is involved in developing most of the sauce formulas. He's even developed sauce formula for McDonald's.

Keep in mind that Ed is a food chemistry whiz. During the tour, someone asked if we really needed to worry about mayonnaise. People are always worried that mayonnaise will spoil. Ed's answer will surprise you. Ed said that all commercially made mayo is completely safe.

"It doesn't even have to be refrigerated. No harm in refrigerating it, but it's not really necessary." He explained that the pH in mayonnaise is set at a point that bacteria could not survive in that environment. He then talked about the quaint essential picnic, with the bowl of potato salad sitting on the table and how everyone blames the mayonnaise when someone gets sick.

Ed says that when food poisoning is reported, the first thing the officials look for is when the 'victim' last ate ONIONS and where those onions came from (in the potato salad?). Ed says it's not the mayonnaise (as long as it's not homemade mayo) that spoils in the outdoors. It's probably the onions, and if not the onions, it's the POTATOES.

He explained, onions are a huge magnet for bacteria, especially uncooked onions. You should never plan to keep a portion of a sliced onion.. He says it's not even safe if you put it in a zip-lock bag and put it in your refrigerator.

It's already contaminated enough just by being cut open and out for a bit, that it can be a danger to you (and doubly watch out for those onions you put in your hotdogs at the baseball park!)

Ed says if you take the leftover onion and cook it like crazy you'll probably be okay, but if you slice that leftover onion and put on your sandwich, you're asking for trouble. Both the onions and the moist potato in a potato salad, will attract and grow bacteria faster than any commercial mayonnaise will even begin to break down.

So, how's that for news? Take it for what you will. I (the author) am going to be very careful about my onions from now on. For some reason, I see a lot of credibility coming from a chemist and a company that produces millions of pounds of mayonnaise every year.

Also, dogs should never eat onions. Their stomachs cannot metabolize onions. Please remember it is dangerous to cut onions and try to use it to cook the next day, it becomes highly poisonous for even a single night and creates toxic bacteria which may cause adverse stomach infections because of excess bile secretions and even food poisoning."

As a chef of over 25 years I can attest that commercially made mayonnaise is a benchmark product and is pretty much bulletproof. Cooked potatoes however are highly susceptible to promoting foodborne illness. They are a perfect medium for bacterial growth.

Peeled and/or chopped raw garlic that is stored in an oxygen-void atmosphere (ie- canned or vacuum sealed, or in oil) can harbor the bacteria that causes botulism. I was always taught that but I can't prove it. Has to do with sulfur compounds.

Onions I'm not so sure about. In all my years I can remember twice hearing about onions promoting salmonella (from unreliable sources). I don't remember it from several rounds of sanitation certification, but I don't remember a lot of things. I do know that most foods spoil at some some point and eating spoiled food isn't cool.

We are aware in the foodservice industry that what causes foodborne illness is seldom the most obvious suspect. The biggest culprit is cross-contamination (poor food handling practices) and the greatest safeguard is proper hand washing.

Over my career of 27 years in the biz I am aware (not that there haven't been more) of only one time that someone legitimately got sick eating food from one of my kitchens. One day in 2006 something like 5 staff members of a hospital I worked at in southern California got sick eating tuna salad that was made that day. No explanation ever made sense and we never figured out what caused it.

First of all let's look at what it takes to create foodborne illness. Whole books are written on this topic but I will discuss the most commonly known and feared "food poisoning" scenarios. The ones that most people talk about are Salmonella, Botulism, and E.Coli. These illnesses are caused principally by bacteria, and either by ingesting the actual bacteria or the toxins that the associated bacteria produce (in which case you're probably ingesting the bacteria as well).

Bacteria are living creatures, and like most living creatures they require certain conditions to survive and multiply. We live, sleep, eat, drink, and breathe potentially harmful bacteria all of the time, and our immune systems adapt to their presence. Normally we are perfectly healthy and filled with little critters that we don't know are there.

It's when they are allowed to multiply that they cause problems. To do that they require time (could be hours, could be days), temperature (between 41 and 135 deg. F), food (usually sugar/starch, and protein), moisture, oxygen (though some prefer the absence of oxygen), and the right pH (typically neutral, between 6 and 8 on the pH scale).

Mayonnaise is made from oil, eggs, and vinegar. Due to the addition of lemon juice and/or vinegar commercial mayonnaise has an acidic pH level of 3.8 to 4.6. Bacteria cannot live below 4.5. Interestingly, if you try to make mayonnaise without the acid, you will not get mayonnaise. The acid is required to achieve emulsion. Because of the shelf-life extending qualities of commercial mayonnaise it is often used in the kitchen as a base for other cold sauces and dressings.

Potatoes on the other hand offer the perfect moisture content, food availability, and neutral pH to make critters feel right at home. Even if the surface is coated with caustic mayonnaise the potato itself dilutes the acid content and those little suckers bore inside and set up shop. Leave it on the picnic table for a couple hours and it's on.

Professionally, local and federal health codes dictate that if a prepared food product is allowed to sit in the "danger zone" of 41-135 deg F. for more than 4 hours it must be discarded. Good policy to follow at home as well. So why did the chicken legs that mom always left on the counter overnight never make us sick when we ate them two days later? Who knows.

Basically, buy good quality ingredients from reputable sources, store and prepare them properly, wash your hands, and enjoy your life and your food! We'll all die from food poisoning if something else doesn't kill us first.

By the way, an interesting little tidbit I picked up as a beekeeper a few years back--honey (in its natural and undiluted state) is the only food that cannot and will not spoil. Bees rock! I could argue that there are a few other unspoilable foods (just made another word), but that's another article altogether.

Follow up:

After writing this article I actually stumbled across a Snopes article about the email I received. Funny. An interesting read that concurs with what I have written.

With $160 You Get No Eggroll

"Talk is cheap, barbers give it away free with haircuts."
- Ancient Chinese Proverb

Ah, Christmas in D.C. I finally got a break and got to visit the world outside of Arkansas, and I’m pleased to report that it’s still there!

My sister lives in Northern Virginia near Washington, D.C. and that’s where I spent the holidays. They had just had a massive winter storm a few days prior, and by Christmas Day there was still nearly a foot of snow on the ground hence a somewhat White Christmas.

Anytime I travel food is always a focal point for me, and this trip was no exception. Though I tend to avoid cooking shows and the Food Network, I had seen a couple of shows somewhere that touted Ben’s Chili Bowl in D.C. I had to go.

Ben’s is a Capitol City tradition that features a typical “grill” menu that specializes in Half-Smokes and Chili. Imagine a chili dog made from a quarter-pound smoked sausage, drowning in top-shelf chili. Add cheese sauce from a can, a double handful of standard 3/8” fries (like Wendy’s), and a Coke. You'll find yourself $12 lighter and covered with killer chili and cheese sauce…and that’s about it.

A coworker had told me of a show he’d seen on the Food Network where Duff Goldman (don’t know who he is but we sat next to his picture) had been to a place in Falls Church, Virginia and had one of his best meals ever. My buddy said that the name of the place was Peking Gourmet Inn and that I should go. Peking Duck he said was the meal in question and the house specialty.

From my experience in my hometown of Charlotte, NC, any restaurant that opened up in a “strip-mall” shopping center either sucked…or…wasn’t good. Peking Gourmet Inn is in a shopping center along with an Asian market, a Middle Eastern market, a bank, an insurance company, and a Thai restaurant plus a couple others. The storefront is about twice as wide as the door and not very impressive.

It was a cold Wednesday night and we arrived about 6:00. We walked into a small and cramped foyer that was mostly filled by the hostess’ podium with nothing else in view but the take-out window and pictures of the owner and several recognizable customers including both Presidents Bush and their wives. Two Chinese girls were frantically studying reservation lists and seating charts, and practically screaming at each other in their native language. It sounded like a Hong Kong auction and I’m still not sure that we ever truly got their attention.

One of the girls never looked up, but asked if we had reservations.

“No.”

They both got a little more frantic, and then one finally said, “You come now, but eat fast…another table coming soon.”

We were whisked into what opened into a huge dining room filled with white-table-cloth appointed tables, each one filled to capacity with well dressed “beautiful people”—half of them Asian. Every wall was covered with more photos of famous customers that included every Congress man and woman in the District. Amazing smells filled the room and an army of tuxedo-clad waiters and busmen danced around the packed house like well choreographed ballerinas.

How long it has been since I smelled, saw, and felt the energy of a REAL restaurant? Oh, Heaven and electricity!

Out waiter’s name was Chao, a 40-something year old Chinese veteran of the industry with a nearly indiscernible accent and a twinkle in his eye. Judging by his mastery of the dining room and the Rolex on his wrist he has been trained by the best (probably European) and been at it for decades. The kind of guy that you have no idea what he just said, but you know you’re in good hands so you just let go and let him drive.

We ordered some drinks and the first item on the menu—a six course meal for 4. Done!

Chao expediently showed up with a round of Hot & Sour Soup and a plate of very different fried noodles. They were round, a little thinner than a pencil, a little softer than the usual, and freshly fried. Everyone at the table remarked that they had never “really” had Hot and Sour Soup until this moment. To me it was hot and sour soup, tasty nonetheless.

I had seen a couple bowls of what looked like sliced chilies on a neighboring table and inquired about them. Chao promptly brought a dish of what he called “hot sauce”. It was a little monkey dish filled with thinly sliced little green Chinese “death chilies” (you know the ones) with a little soy sauce poured over them. I put them on everything with joy!

Next came a plate of Sweet and Sour Cabbage and another of Peking Celery. Now one might say that these were mere fillers, and one would be right, but just let me tell you. To the best of my recollection I haven’t had a vegetable in at least six weeks and these were welcome. Both were essentially raw and served room temperature. Hot would have been just not quite right and cold would’ve been just wrong.

The cabbage was firm, white, and a little curly. Oddly enough I’m not sure what kind of cabbage it was. The only thing I can figure is that it was your basic green cabbage, but only the more tender white center that had been soaked in ice water and dried thoroughly before being tossed in a little vinegar, salt, sugar, and crushed red chili.

The celery had been filleted, peeled, blanched for about 5 seconds to bring out the green, and tossed in a little sesame oil. It’s possible that the oil was in the blanching water. At any rate for the first time in my life I thought celery was really cool. I had an instructor in culinary school that vehemently believed and taught that “celery should be tasted but never seen”. Peking Celery would’ve changed Chef Z’s view.

Next came the main course, the dish we came for—the house specialty, Peking Duck.

It seemed that nearly every table had one. Out comes a little plate with warm, hand-made steamed pancakes covered with a lid to hold in the steam. A bowl of traditional Hoisin sauce, and plates of julienned cucumbers and leeks followed.

And then the duck.

A skilled server brought out a whole duck with the most amazing crispy golden brown skin. She whipped out a Chinese cleaver and began by shaving paper thin pieces of crispy skin. The whole duck is skinned but only the choicest top layer. Next she scraped off the layer of soft fat from between the meat and the outer skin, revealing juicy meat that was as soft as silk and as tender as a mother’s love. It was sliced thin and arranged next to the skin. She went through the entire animal until nothing but a carcass was left. True craftsmanship. With reverence, one by one, we passed around the components and built little stuffed rolls.

We ate the duck!

One bite and then there was dead silence for about 30 seconds. Angels drifted down from the ceiling. Some floated in from all four corners of the dining room, and a few ascended from under our table. They gathered hands and formed a circle around the table. From out of the carcass came a bright light that filled the room. Quite in unison all of the angels made a joyful noise unto the Lord, and danced around the table as in a synchronized swimming musical from the 50’s. It started as the Blue Danube and made a crescendo into a fanfare by Mozart.

We liked the duck!

It was then that plates started flying at our table from all directions. There were huge, plump Ginger Shrimp with Asparagus. The tails were removed, the asparagus was fresh and crisp, the shrimp were cooked perfectly, and tossed with long, matchstick thin strands of fresh ginger that was hand cut by virgins with razor sharp blades hewn from rarest ivory.

There was a plate of beautiful sesame/soy green beans—fresh, green, crunchy, and perfectly seasoned with flavors I’ve never experienced together. A dish of Black Pepper Beef came with a broccoli garnish. It was best described as Chinese pot roast—tender, moist, and exploding with layered flavors from outside to center.

Next we all learned what fried rice is supposed to be. Perfectly cooked individual grains of rice tossed with an equal amount (not an obligatory garnish) of peas, chicken, shrimp, and barbecued pork. OMG! In parts of Asia each grain of rice is considered a representation of the children, and here was no exception. Each grain was treated with individual respect, love, and honor.

We ate what we could and the rest is still in the fridge.

Finally Mango Ice Cream, a bill for $144.00 (plus a well deserved tip), and fortune cookies. Mine said “The day only gets better.” How?

As we were leaving at 8:00 about 200+ people were seated and another 30 were waiting in line for our table. Chao passed us en route to a new table and wished us a Merry Christmas by name. His night was only half over at best.

If you’re ever within 500 miles of Falls Church, VA drop by Peking Gourmet Inn. They actually do have egg rolls on the menu and I imagine they’re good, but not what you go there for and they don’t come with. Be sure to call ahead for reservations.

Stop by Ben’s only if you’re in the neighborhood, and have a Happy New Year!

Molecular Schmeckular

"Cobbler, stick to thy last"

Those of you who know me know of my previously demonstrated disdain for this "Molecular Gastronomy" thing that's plagued our industry in recent years. I have grown over the course of my career to a place of simplicity. I've enjoyed eating some great meals in some of the nation's best restaurants and the best meals were the ones that were simple but executed well.

Sometimes I think that I've lost my passion when I look at some of these websites with beautiful food that I didn't think of first. So I've tried lately to incorporate some of tenets of M.G. to make me look like I'm a hip, modern chef. It hasn't really worked.

This weekend was the busiest weekend of my entire career. Thirty five or so VIP catering events for 50 to 250 people in 36 hours. Seven chefs flew in from New Orleans and Texas to help out. Quail eggs came from North Carolina at the last minute (because Georgia was flooded and they couldn't get them to me). Lamb racks came by special courier from Memphis because my distributor failed to order them for me. There was green tea powder from Massachusetts that got lost in the mail and didn't show up until 4 hours from plate-up, strawberry powder from California, bonito flakes from Michigan, and chocolates and 23K edible gold leaves from Maryland.

This was Legislative Weekend--the weekend that legislators and major donors come from all over the state to enjoy a lineup of special events designed to make them want to open up their wallets over the next year. This is our centennial year at ASU so the guest list was a little bigger than usual, and the itinerary included a major rock band in concert on campus (The Fray...whoever they are), a football game, a Japanese musical presentation in the Fine Arts Center, and a whole bunch of other stuff for a whole bunch of people.

At times I wondered why I try.

Our P.I.T.A. event planner insisted on a breathtaking display of Waldorf Salad and Ambrosia to be splayed out on a mirror the size of a door on beds of sliced oranges and pineapples. Uh, the 50's called...they want their salads back. And BTW, mirrors and mayonnaise make poor company. We did something different.

Talented chef's from afar hit the proverbial wall on prep night and left before the prep list was done. They didn't bother asking. The day of the big show they arrived over an hour late because their driver overslept from the muscle relaxers he took to ease the pain of a bulging disc that all but paralyzed his right side. I myself suffered back pain and a sore bursitis-ridden shoulder that right now can't even get a PB&J sandwich all the way to my mouth.

By lunchtime Saturday none of us could see straight or stand tall. I had just completely snapped on the event planner lady and screamed so loud I hurt my own ears. I was shaking and almost cried I was so mad. I never get that way! People left the kitchen momentarily to regroup. It was the quietest moment of the weekend. One of those awkward silences that you wish you wouldn't have caused. Hopefully my next blog won't be entitled "God Dammit I Did It Again".

So what does this have to do with molecular gastronomy? Now that you mention it...nothing.

Friday night was a Japanese themed plated dinner for 75 dignitaries and trustees to commemorate the 100 year anniversary. The menu:

Sushi (California Roll, Philadelphia Roll, Crunchy Shrimp Roll, Spicy Tuna Roll, Shrimp Nigiri)

Wasabi, Pickled Ginger, Soy Sauce

Salad of Baby Spinach, Mizuna, Sweet Radish, and Grapefruit, with Rice Wine/Miso Vinaigrette

Roasted Beef Tenderloin with Umami Foam

Spicy Lacquered Eggplant, Zucchini, and Sweet Potato

Banana-Sesame Upside-Down Cake with Strawberry Powder and Green Tea Whipped Cream

We bought the sushi. The idea was that presentations were to be Japanesely minimalistic. The salad was nice...salad. The foam didn't foam. We left the micro greens for the entree back in the kitchen across campus. The banana cake was beautiful and texturally interesting the day before when it was made. Unfortunately it wasn't possible to make them fresh as they should have been. The green tea whipped cream was pretty and tasted interesting, but needed something else...ginger juice maybe...and it went flat by service time. Strawberry powder as a condiment sounds better than it looks or tastes.

Not one of my prouder moments.

Ah well, as Etienne used to always say, "You'll never go broke underestimating the tastes of the American public". As far as I know they were all impressed and happy. I'm finding that many of these events at the college are more about the event than the food. Disheartening but sometimes a saving grace. The tenderloin was "spot on"!

I think that I'll continue experimenting with some of this new stuff. I was really into food science when I was in school 20 years ago. Surely there's something redeeming to it when the top rated restaurant on the planet hangs its hat on the invention of M.G.

Until then I'll keep it in the kitchen until I get good at it.

The Cold, Hard Winter

It was a cold, hard winter…

That was the first line of a book I started writing a few years ago. I’ve since tabled the book for of a number of reasons. One, the theme kept changing as the storyline developed. It was to be the story of a very bleak period in my life and some of the funny things that happened, some of the harsh drama I endured, and a lot of things I discovered about myself.

It started to become a tale of opinions and cynicism brought on by the world’s injustices. And then I went through a period (which has just recently ended) where I didn’t have a place or the resources to become and remain motivated and inspired to write.

So now, through a series of events that have brought me to point of not being able to sleep tonight, I find myself needing to write and to be read, so I am compromising my commitment to writing a food blog to air my innermost thoughts, struggles, and fears with whatever audience I have left on this nearly abandoned forum.

I went to Google and typed in a burning question that at least for the moment I don’t seem to have the answer to -- “How do I stop being an asshole?”

The first hit took me to a bulletin board where the first entry on the page was this…

The asshole inside me seems to keep getting larger. Masked in alcohol, snide comments and passive aggressive behavior. I can blame it on depression, or a shitty childhood, but really, I have to blame it on myself. I have had so many incredible opportunities, squandered most of them, bitterly, and been a shitty person dressed up as a funny man. I’ve also done some straight up asshole stuff like sleep with my friend’s wife, repeatedly. I can blame this on being lonely and rationalize it, but the fact is, that is something only an asshole would do. Also, little things, like expecting the world to treat you different than it does everybody else. Like I deserve better. That’s super asshole stuff, that is a daily thing. Looking down on people is a big part of it I think. Thinking you’re better than them, and not wanting the friends you have because they’re not good enough… but not liking people who think they’re better than you, or perceiving that… Authority issues? You bet. Asshole? Yes. I don’t like being an asshole. I don’t want to be an asshole, and yet – there it is.

I thought to myself, “now there’s a guy who understands me.” We could be great friends, though we’d probably hate each other by virtue of our impossible and insatiable personalities. I wondered if I had gotten up in my sleep one night and written that myself without realizing it.

So then I followed a link to a free personality quiz designed to inspire me to buy something and I took it (I haven’t bought anything yet).

The result...

You are a Self-Knowing Self-Improving Believer

1.40% of the 207164 people who have taken this quiz are like you.

Oh that’s super! It certainly explains a lot. It explains why I’ve gone through life thinking that I’m misunderstood. Hell, I am…by 98.6% of the people on the planet. No wonder I feel so alone most of the time.

Where’d all this come from? I’ll tell you where. I’ve been getting my ass kicked at this new job the last couple of weeks. I live and work in a town where the labor pool is right shallow, and the demands on our understaffed little enterprise have been relentless for a thus far brief period that seems to be without conclusion.

I have been working 12-16 hours a day for about a month now, and have to retrain most of my staff of 40+ people on a daily basis. I finally had the opportunity to take 2 days off for Labor Day weekend and the phone rang constantly. It was like being at work, except I sat at my “desk” naked and chain smoked while I put out the proverbial fires over the phone and tried to maintain a calm and peaceful demeanor.

My core staff, long-term employees are dropping like flies.

One is retiring at the end of this week, seemingly because she doesn’t like the coworker that has been assigned to assist her with the mundane and simplistic task of maintaining a salad bar. But more likely because she is unpleasantly faced with the inevitable results of the aging process and just doesn’t have the stamina to do the job anymore. It’s always easier to blame someone else.

One quit last week to avoid being fired for stealing from us twice in the last 3 weeks on camera.

One just enacted a leave of absence due to a complete emotional breakdown over her grandson’s recent suicide. Perfectly justified!

One got locked up for a month for reasons unbeknownst.

One walked out last week citing that he just can’t tolerate the work load anymore and he wants to see the world while he’s young.

And one is being forced to quit due to medical problems that quite possibly may soon result in the loss of his right foot. He came to me tonight and asked me if he can return to work after losing the foot because he can’t accept retirement and disability. I hugged him as a tear nearly fell from my eye, and told him that he will always have a job with us if I can help it.

And not unexpectedly, there is a faction of the ones that are left that speculate that all these people are leaving because of me, and they’re spreading rumors about me within upper management that is designed to return them to a lack of supervision that allows them to practice the art of sloth and mediocrity. The dangerous part of it all is that it just may work.

The stress level in my life has soared to unfathomable levels and sometimes…on occasion…however infrequently…it seeps out in ugly ways and unkind words in the “heat of passion”. Doesn’t help matters.

And then there’s my chief nemesis. A woman who I like, enjoy, and respect that is as stubborn and immovable as a house-sized granite mule. She means well and has a desirable level of skill at her assigned job, but we just don’t see things in the same light. Unfortunately, she is the one person that I need to have an indivisible alliance with, and I’m really struggling with this. To all appearances it is impossible for her. She is an island.

She is a manager to whom I am equal on the organizational chart, but she fancies herself (in my opinion) the “lead dog”. She has turned our operation upside down, pissed off everyone around her, and is only interested in pleasing our client 100% at all costs. A noble and just interest, but she doesn’t seem to get that doing so within the boundaries of her vision requires resources and collective talent that we don’t currently possess. She’s not the one that has to do the work…and she doesn’t.

Now mind you, the last 19 years of my life have been for the most part focused on self-improvement (with intermittent success). The last month hasn’t been. It’s been about survival. I hate “survival mode”!

I want very much what most humans do…to be liked, loved, admired, desired, and respected. Funny how God seems to have molded my personality in ways that contradict all that is good and pure in human striving. Then I think that it’s this damned business. Why would he give me this one gift and talent that I can’t use successfully? This has always been my struggle, and in 19 years I have not been able to assign a viable and consistent remedy to it.

So tonight I will have another cigarette and return to bed where I will lie awake for a short while reflecting, praying, meditating, and wondering what I will return to tomorrow morning and how it will all turn out. I will try not to lie awake talking to myself...having that conversation with “her” in which I will tell her everything she deserves to hear in order for me to solve our relational problems by getting my way.

I will try to remind myself that I got this job by asking God to give me the perfect job working for an employer who thinks I’m the perfect employee. And I will continue to look only for my part in the misshapen chaos that has become my career…again!

Namaste

"The light within me honors the light within you."

Today was one of the days I’ve been waiting for!

Once the school year gets started, we do a “Taste Changer” once a week; something to keep the kids excited and break up the day-to-day routine. We set up a separate buffet table and put out a small spread with a theme. Might be a different culture’s cuisine, could be a table of upscale desserts…one week we’re doing a bunch of different hot cobblers. Just something different. For our first one I chose Flavors of India, mainly because I love Indian food and there ain’t none in Jonesboro, Arkansas.

Our company has been doing a lot of Indian stuff, and there is supposed to be a line of products available to me to pull some off with, but I can’t get it at my place. In fact, here’s a list of a few other things I can’t get:

Lentils, wild rice, Sriracha sauce, rice noodles, whole cumin, whole cardamom, herbal tea, cinnamon sticks, basmati rice, cous cous, Chinese oyster sauce, hoisin sauce, turnips, rutabagas, seedless watermelons…the list goes on and on.

Seems that the nation’s largest wholesale supplier of food has their most ill-stocked branch in Memphis...the home of ribs, the blues, and Elvis. You would think that such a large city would be more amply equipped to handle the tastes of a diverse population, but I guess they’re not really that diverse over there...pretty much just ribs, blues, and Elvis.

It was kind of embarrassing that I could not accurately represent (and celebrate) the world’s most poverty stricken culture because the tiny legume that has prevented them from slipping into extinction for over 3000 years is only available to me in a fancy little 10 pound box at $35.00 (plus shipping) and a one week wait. Oh well.

So we started out the morning toasting about 4 pounds of various whole spices, chopping ginger, garlic, and mint, and opening cans of garbanzo beans and tomato products. The chicken, potatoes, onions, peppers, and eggplant had been cut the day before…about 200# of chicken thighs, 50# of potatoes, and a bushel or so of onions and peppers. We used something like 3 pounds of mint, 5 pounds of ginger, 3 pounds of garlic, 40 pounds of eggplant, and a gallon and a half of olive oil (should’ve been melted butter or “ghee”).

Our bakers cranked out hand rolled “naan” flatbread the night before, and rolled about a gazillion little dough balls that became the most incredible little “galub jamun”. This is India’s one great dessert in my opinion, and I can eat these things all day and night!

They’re made from dry milk powder, flour, baking powder, and yogurt. You deep fry them and plunge them into divine pool of sugar syrup scented with cardamom and rose water. Then you eat the heck out of ‘em!

They were great, but not the only good thing we had. We made as good a batch of Chicken Vindaloo as I’ve ever had, some kickin’ Saag Paneer (curried spinach with cheese), Eggplant and Chickpeas Kottu Style, Vegetable Biryani, and the ubiquitous Mint Chutney and Onion Relish that is customary at most Indian eateries (except ours was better).

The campus Indian organization showed up with a display that rivaled anything that we conjured up (awkward), and as far as I could tell the feast was a complete hit! The only problem was that I was too busy to sit down and eat any of it, and I’m really feeling bad about that now as I sit here and snack on peppered beef jerky and habanero barbecue almonds.

Now here’s a funny thing I learned just the other day about India…

I’ve always known that India is made of mainly of Hindus and Muslims, but you usually only hear about the Hindus. They greatly revere cows and are frequently vegetarians. Throughout India (with some exceptions) you typically don’t see pork on the menu. We’ve hired a number of Indian students this year and it turns out that some of them are Muslims.

How I know this is that last weekend I stopped by to check on a couple guys that were making omelets, and neither of them would put ham in the omelets they were making (which were otherwise very beautifully crafted). Even with gloves on and 8” tongs they refused to handle the ham at this time of the year citing the fact that we are in the middle of Ramadan.

Ramadan (for those unfamiliar) is the month long Muslim holy season during which Muslims (among other customs) are not to eat while the sun is up, and are apparently not to have any contact whatsoever with pork. So I've got a third non-Muslim employee standing between serving only the purpose of applying ham to the occasional egg pan.

I asked one of the guys who refused to handle pork during Ramadan if he was fasting. He said, “No, I’m not that orthodox”.

I like Galub Jamun!

Feeding the 5000

Jesus did it with just a couple loaves of bread and a fish or two…and we did it with 45 dozen eggs, 4 or 5 cases of Pillsbury biscuits, several gallons of non-sausage gravy, 60 pounds of bacon, 250 pounds of pork barbecue, a mountain of macaroni & cheese, 400 or so hamburgers, 150 pounds of flank steak, 120 pounds of roasted turkey breast (with cranberry sauce, gravy, and dressing), several cases of “imitation” shrimp (didn’t know it existed), a ton of cookies, rolls, cake, and the likes, a couple hundred pizzas (when we could get ‘em out), and a whole bunch of other stuff. And we’ve repeated the miracle everyday this week!

I never saw anything like it, but what a rush! We pulled it off and everyone was happy.

Classes are officially in session at ASU and playtime is over.

It was a fun time this summer though and we did some fun stuff. A few weeks ago we prepared one of the nicest dinners I’ve done in years.

Pan Seared Tuna with Wasabi Potato Salad, Asian Chili Sauce, and Pickled Onions

Crab and Avocado Salad with Salmon Tartare, Citrus Cream, Vanilla Bean Essence, and Sesame/Ginger Crackers

Champagne/Black Currant Granite

Boneless Southern Quail stuffed with Wild Mushrooms, Smoked Ham, and Leeks over Red Quinoa and Black Pepper Demi-Glace

Pork Tenderloin and Pan Seared Sea Scallop with Cucumber “Noodles”, Port/Soy Glaze, and Spicy Corn Salad

Chef’s Selection with Grapes, Apples, and Toasted Nuts

Panna Cotta with Honey, Fresh Figs, Toasted Hazelnuts, and Blueberry Leather

Flavored Handmade Marshmallows and Chocolates

This was a meal for about 36 people that we do every year. The host is a friend of the Chancellor and Vice Chancellor, and a world traveler with a discriminating palate. When it was all over, my staff and I received a standing ovation, and a letter of praise the next morning stating that it was the best meal ever prepared for this event.

Over the course of the summer we made a lot of food for summer camp groups of 15 to 450, with as many as 1000 per meal period during the height of the season. And I found out the hard way that young children apparently don’t care for lima beans or shrimp & grits. Football players eat the hell out of most anything you put out (especially lasagna), and women volleyball players are cuter than cheerleaders (they like lasagna too).

The school year kicked off last Sunday night with a customary Luau that was attended by about 1000 students, mostly new to ASU, complete with roasted pig, plastic leis and karaoke.

We had a couple of casualties over the summer too.

A retail supervisor stopped by one Saturday night/Sunday morning and helped himself to $1000 out of the safe (that he had a key to). Told the police he was gambling and needed the money. Said that he thought he would make it back and return it, but “that didn’t work out”. He’s doing 2 years.

One of my catering staff kidnapped his son from his wife and fled to Florida, where he intended to find a job, live with relatives, and file for divorce. A few weeks later the wife went to Florida and got the kid. Now the cook is back in Arkansas minus a wife, a kid, and a job.

Another cook left work one day and shoplifted something from a nearby store. She was wearing her chef coat with company logo and her name embroidered on it. Police stopped by work the next morning looking for her, but she’s never been back.

My boss, who I love dearly, was reassigned to another campus in Missouri at our client’s request.

And one of our banquet servers was arrested for molestation of a minor and possession of child pornography. He won’t be back.

Hell, even I got a ticket from a campus policeman for running a stop sign…but I’m fighting that one next week in court. I didn’t really run the stop sign (I don’t think). I’ll let you know what happens.

So there’s no telling what’ll be next. Football season starts next weekend and supposedly I’m in for a whole new color in my paint box.

Until next time…