Birmingham or bust?

So I'm going to Birmingham, AL, on Wednesday for the day! Going to try to hang out with J for a bit- in theory, his new place is opening that night, so I thought I'd go try and support! Plus I'd actually see what Birmingham has to offer. ...If anything, haha.

Mean of me? Yeah, probably. But I do want to give the city a chance. There has to be some reason people stay there, right? This is the whole reason I travel- to see places, and get to the root of what the draw is. That, and I do want to check out some of Alabama's food scene! They have one that's been developing at least 5 years now. I love eating. :)

Rattenschwänze!

I actually got motivated to test a potential menu item today! It is called rattenschwänze, and it is delicious.

Rattenschwänze is a pork dish from the Lower Saxon town called Hamelin. It was based on the old folk tale, the Pied Piper of Hamelin. I had to modify the recipe a bit based on what I had in the fridge, but the core of it was the same. It has a crazy, complex flavor with savory, spicy, lingering quality that made me ridiculously happy. It is a heavier dish that's probably better for winter, but I can lighten it a bit more for summer if I wanted to. Plus? So much booze included!

In the main meal alone, there are four different boozes utilized. And in the process of creation, I stumbled on a deeeeelicious idea! I used white wine to make my rice. So tasty. Soooo tasty. Gave the rice a nice twang that complemented the pork. My meal inadvertently became an ode to Julia Child. Cheers! I'll post my recipe vs the original on my Facebook page.

Know-It-All?

It's weird, how you can listen to someone and lose respect for them. Going out with coworkers, our sous chef came with us. She is an abrasive personality when sober, but she has taught me quite a bit. At the same time, now I've got to hear her outside of work. So now it's a mystery- how does someone with so little respect for people in general get and keep her job? Seriously, she talks trash about EVERYONE, including Chef. I'm not saying I'd follow the guy off of a cliff, but based on the positive reception he's been getting for a steady 3 years now? He's obviously not an idiot. So I'm confused- why does she bother staying?

She says she wants her own place one day. I have a morbid curiosity as to a; whether she'll actually get her own place; and b; if it'll last? She just doesn't seem to get the fact that she could possibly have other shit to learn. It's a weird to watch. And sad- because while I'll still listen to her to an extent, I will never bother trying to learn anything from her anymore. Empathy is too important to me.

Why I Am Terrible At Meaningful, Serious Communication... And Things Still Work Out

Now that I've finally gotten a little sleep, I can collect my thoughts a little better! Which brings me to the Great Reveal of last night.

I was at the part time job last night, and when my night was over, a guy I had accidentally been on a date with a few weeks ago called me up to hang out. I declined, and texted a guy friend to get some perspective on things. J came up, of course, and I got thinking. Him -not- saying "I love you" was bothering me more than I wanted to admit.

While I walked home, I kept thinking- it's one of my worst faults. The more I thought, the more I decided I had to come to a definitive conclusion. Was J going to be worth the investment of my time, or did I need to cut ties and systematically ruin the best thing I have ever had thus far? I started getting angry, and in a fit of 'fuck this, I need to know', I called him.

For the record, one of my other faults is, when I talk to him, I lose my nerve to an extent. He answered, and I just went about it like it was a normal phone call. He told me about his day and some of his staffing problems, I played the part of the super assertive girlfriend who would tell employees exactly what they ought to be doing (ha-ha-HURR). I kept trying to regain the angry fire that I had while the phone was ringing. I couldn't. When our conversation was wrapping up, though, I did get a bit of the spite back. My brain said 'fuck this, I'm just going to say I love him anyway. I'm tired of being this much of a pussy about it!' So I said it. And he said it back, like it was the most natural progression of our conversation. And we hung up. And I had a little celebration for myself. He probably has no idea how much it meant to me. But his nonchalant attitude tells me he thought it was totally obvious. Men, jeez. :)

<3

Fuck. Yes. J finally said he loves me!!!!!!!!! Night=made. :)

A Love Note

I have been eating an inordinate amount of grilled cheese lately. It's just a magic fucking sandwich, isn't it? Simplest concept ever- cheese+bread=love. And so many different combinations of cheese and bread! Focaccia and Brie, boule with a mix of gorgonzola and cheddar, rye and Swiss...! Add tomatoes, bacon- who gives a fuck? Still delicious! And it all seems to come from a similar story across America- stuck inside on a crappy, grey winter day, Mom calls you to the kitchen table. Waiting there is a bowl of soup... And an amazing, buttery, slightly burnt grilled cheese sandwich. Simple, classic. I always liked mine with tomato soup. NOT tomato-basil, straight tomato. Don't get me wrong, there is a time and place for tomato-basil soup, it is delish on its own merits. Just don't give me grilled cheese with it. That's a dick move.

Surprisingly enough, if I'm not making it, my favorite grilled cheese comes from Waffle House. It is consistently just like mom used to make (and no, my mother never worked at WaHo). For as much as I love gourmet restaurants and stuff like that, Waffle House holds a special place in my heart. It started off as a joke, and grew into one of my favorite things about Atlanta. Now it's a special place, and I have my own traditions there- I will always order a coffee and a water, with a grilled cheese sandwich and order of hash browns (covered at least, and sometimes capped). It comforts me, and even when I toss my life into periods of upheaval and change, those will always be a grounding factor for me. So here's to you, grilled cheese, and you, WaHo. To wherever life takes me, and your disgustingly tasty American cheese product slices!

I wanna play hooky...

I looked at my second-choice location yesterday. It was quite an experience! The building was an old fire station, with amazing open brick walls and the majority of the structure intact. There was a lot of newer refurbished rooms, apparently the place had been used as a recording studio recently (and by recently, I mean 3+ years ago). The more I think about it, I can see my bar/restaurant coming together there. I'm still going to look at a few places, but as long as this place stays available, I might have a winner!

This weekend I need to finish my business plan. I have the majority done, but I'm about to start working on the financial aspect... And numbers terrify me. They literally make me sick to my stomach when I think about them. I don't want to do them at all, but if this is going to work at all, I need to suck it up and finish them up. Then I get to do fun stuff! Jeez. Business plans are like the shittiest grown-up homework ever.

Road map!

Well. After being jerked around by a realtor, I find out my dream spot has already been leased by a local mediocre Italian chain that already HAS a location down the street. Jerks. But it worked out in my favor- I've found a few other potential locations with cheaper rent.

Not going to lie, this entire process is daunting when I think about the numbers. I find myself constantly reminding myself that one doesn't -have- to spend half a million dollars all at once. It gets leeched from you in increments! I need to sit down and write out the breakdown to help me muddle this out. That way, it'll be a bit easier to process. Taking something step-by-step is the only way I'm going to get this done, right? Just gotta map it out. Maybe I'll get J to help me out with that...

Optimism

Well. Something clicked yesterday for me. I got inspiration. Between the Boston tragedy, and the general restlessness I've been feeling, I got motivated to pick up the phone and call realtors that are involved with my dream spot for my business. For the first time, I got immediate response. I'm touring the space tomorrow. I am elated. And terrified.

Life is short. These days, everything seems bent on reminding me of this. I don't see the point in sitting on my ass, wishing for fairy tales and dreams to magically happen. With that one connection with the realtor, I am now more motivated than ever to get this in gear. Ideas on how to accomplish it have been flooding my brain with that one little victory. I've started getting in touch with people I believe can help me. I'm young, broke, and have never owned a bar in my life. But frankly? I haven't got time to worry about that bullshit. And if nothing else, I have almost 9 years of watching other people run places of varying success. I know I can do this. Keep following, guys- watch me get this done, and celebrate with me once my doors open! Cheers, and keep on running to whatever brings you joy!

Actions and Words and Everything In Between

L word success! Well, probably. He didn't say it back. We're both acting as if I didn't say it. With the exception that I'm going keep saying it. He's given me something special too, though- he's putting a dish on his new menu that I inspired!!! How cool is that?? I was so touched.

It might not be a normal 'I love you', but it speaks volumes to me. For one, it means he actually listens to me- a HUGE win in my book. For another, it means he trusts my tastes! I have never suggested dishes to him for his restaurants, but the one he's going to do now was based on me mentioning an esoteric snack that I tried and loved. It's precious to me, the idea that I've managed to make that kind of impact on his life? So it's not a verbal declaration- I've always said that actions speak louder than words. Besides, he'll say it when he's ready. Cheers~!

WWID? (What Will I Do?)

Days like today I get restless. It's rainy and gross, and the kitchen at the lounge is excruciatingly slow. My mind wanders, and I wind up thinking about everything from Anne Frank to my future. Whatever lies ahead vis-a-vis J and I aside, I am planning on opening a pub of my own. A German-style affair, but not the kitschy Oktoberfest nonsense most people think of. I desperately want to make this idea come to fruition, and I have most of the details planned for. Currently, the only things holding me back are financing the beast, and myself thinking there's still something I need to learn. Like some sort of entrepreneurial secret I haven't unlocked yet. I can't figure out what, though... I know about the myriad of licenses, fees, trademarking, costs, Point-of-sale machines, scheduling, how to cook, and that I don't know nearly enough about payroll so I should probably hire someone else to do that. I learned about inventory and invoices through retail, too. From an intellectual standpoint, I've got this in the bag.

However, I am purposefully holding back from seeking finances to learn... Something. What could I possibly be waiting for? Really, I should work on finding people to back me so I can just... Start. Leap in. Lots of chef-owner memoirs I've read have said that ignorance starting out was their greatest strength. But am I too informed at this point? Maybe my stalling is merely fear manifesting itself in a way I'm not understanding. Hm. I should start networking a bit more, meet some people who could help me get more motivated...


So, Internet, if you know anyone with a few thousand bucks to loan out, lemme know, k? Hahaha!

A Long Story...!

My younger brother told me a couple days ago that my life was like an episode of Sex and the City, after he wound up watching a couple episodes with me. He's not entirely wrong. The past week, things got a bit... nutty.

I ended up going on an accidental date, got to spend an amazing night with J, and last night? Accidentally got smashed and made out with a guy. Meant nothing, but crap happens. All of this nonsense got me thinking- where is my love life going? I had been, prior to J and my prior two exes, a relatively carefree serial dater. Played the games, had fun, kissed EVERYBODY. I wanted to eventually get married and all that nonsense, but I was YOUNG and I wanted to have FUN.

So I did. And then, on a whim, I decided to try a long-term relationship with a guy I had met at a party (he was annoyingly persistent). We lasted 8 months, longest I had ever managed. Then I dated one of his friends for 6 months, almost immediately after. In retrospect, jumped into that one waaaay too soon.

J and I have known each other 6 months now. We met when I went to Birmingham, AL, for my job at the time. I was only supposed to be there a day, helping with some invoices. That one day turned into 3, and the paperwork became a never-ending torture. My second evening there, I was about ready to snap.

"Chris," I popped my head into the back office, addressing their general manager. "I'm going away. For three hours. I'll be back to 'help' close. I might not be upright when I return. Ok?"
He smirked, and waved me off. "Enjoy."
"You said the cocktails next door were good, right?"

I stepped into the restaurant, still dressed in my gray uniform shirt. A hostess said something to me, but I was in a cromagnon mindset and simply pointed to the shelves of wine and grunted, "Bar."

I examined the bar situation. Technically, there were two- the main bar towards the entrance, and a secondary bar area in front of an open kitchen. The kitchen bar was completely empty. The main one with all of the lovely booze behind it only had one empty seat between a gaggle of cackling hens and a guy taking up waaay too much space with a laptop. I took the chance.

"This seat taken?" I asked, looking pointedly a his laptop. He smiled and moved it, with a nonchalant, " Nah." I took the seat, and when the bartender came over, I informed him of my plan to stay for hours and not to rush anything except my first drink.

I sat, nursing a tasty rum something- or-other, just trading sporadic quips with the bartender, and eventually the Laptop Guy started interjecting enough where he and I started having a conversation. That was J. By the end of my meal, I was a bit tipsy and had already scanned his ring finger. He had mentioned he came to Atlanta pretty frequently, so feeling a bit bold, I scribbled my phone number on my business card and told him to look me up next time he was in town.

I left immediately after and went back to work to gossip about my encounter with my coworkers. After a few minutes went by, J came to the shop we worked in, to "pick some beers up for [his cooks]". I got to flirt a bit more, and show him off to my coworkers. Afterwards, my coworker Tim, whose house I was staying at, and I went back to his place to drink a bit more and pass out.

After that night, I finished my paperwork, went home, and promptly forgot about J. I didn't expect anything more than the pleasant conversation we had had. Besides, nobody had ever called me before, I certainly didn't expect a call now.

A few days after my Birmingham escapade, I got a single text from a number I didn't recognize- "hey whats up?" Figuring it was some loser I had met at the bar the night prior, I ignored it. I got another text from the same number the next day, a simple, "do you know who this is?"

Well, when you are confronted with a text like that, you have to answer, now don't you? To give myself an out, I texted back, "Sorry! Phone lost a lot of contacts recently- who is this?" And that is when J revealed himself. We've been talking and visiting each other ever since. This relationship has been like none other I've ever had. I actually found someone that I want to talk to every day. And after this past week, it's become even more clear that the idea of one day not having J in my life is infinitely depressing. So I decided to do something about that.

I finally told J I love him. I'll let you know how things turn out. :)

...I'm Lovin' It!

I went to a work meeting on my last day off. I have a thing about my days off- I don't mind going into work if nothing is going on, but I will not change my appearance or demeanor to do so. Well, this particular day, I was spending my day in a dress and cute little wedge heels- a far cry from the jeans and chef coat I usually wear.

Let me tell you, the raised eyebrows were a magnificent ego boost. My coworkers usually only see me in more casual clothes outside of work, so the compliments were nice. It's almost like they forgot I was a human being as well as a cook. Or maybe it's just that they never expected me to have a feminine side? Which is silly. Assuming that, just because one such as myself would rather tell a dick joke on a hot line instead of having an office job, it means I don't like dresses and ponies and shit? Nonsense. I'm a parfait, folks. Just full o' layers!

Fairy Tales and Foie Gras

My day off, and I had spent the morning drinking vodka cocktails and filling my head with fairy tale fluff- Snow White, Sex & the City, and reading 'The Soul of a Chef'. Fantasies of love, happily ever after, and phenomenal food keep running through my head. I was waiting for a work meeting, and for J to maybe come sweep me off my feet and take me out for one of our amazing dates.

With my phone off, the chances of him coming were greatly reduced. I've been kicking myself all night for that. Instead, I find myself just... waiting. Like an over eager pet, but tempered with the expectation of disappointment. This is why I have a love-hate relationship with fairy tales. I love the idealism, the optimism- but I am always far too realistic to believe in this nonsense. J is just enough of a jerk to keep me believing. He's like the inspiration to a Journey song, and it's a combination of elation and wanting to vomit. At least with food fantasies, there is a greater chance I might one day get to eat at the French Laundry, or the Granmercy Tavern or something.

Raw & Real

"If the product is good, there is no reason you shouldn't be able to have rare pork."

I can't remember which chef I heard say this, or if I read it somewhere. But when I came across it, I can remember feeling like I had discovered something *important*. It just made sense, after all- and I am the self-proclaimed Queen of Rare. I adore steaks and tunas to be raw in the middle. I can actually taste the meat then. And sushi was just a given- of course you should eat that raw, that is a connection with the ocean that is about as intimate as a human being can possibly get. But why didn't I link the idea that, maybe I liked all that stuff fresh and raw because it was good? Good product, raised or captured well, and served with respect to what it was?

Maybe that's why I haven't been as much of a fan of pork or duck. When I tried those back when I was younger, they were rubbery, overdone, and overall over seasoned- I couldn't taste what they should be. I had never really tried them at all, in that sense. It's an idea worth revisiting.

This isn't to say that there isn't a reason for cooking meats. Historically, we've had to to ensure our gastrointestinal safety. We have all seen the warnings at the bottom of restaurant menus: "Eating raw or undercooked meats and eggs may cause you to spend inordinate amounts of time in your bathroom, praying to any deity that will have you"- or something like that, anyway. But, what if we didn't need those warnings anymore? What if we knew, 100%, that what we were eating wouldn't infect us with the animal plague of the week? How cool would that be? I don't recommend a completely raw diet, as raw dieters could be considered as annoying, if not more so, than vegans; but a little fleshy tender bits every so often couldn't kill us.

I tried raw duck yesterday. It was delicious. And I can't wait to try it again!

Cautionary Tale

Anyone who asks me, I tell them under no circumstances should they ever become a cook-- unless they feel like being broke forever. Well, forever is a stretch, but it's usually long enough to feel like it.

I have been scraping by below the poverty line every time I take a cooking job. Cooking is -not- a good-paying job, unless you get INCREDIBLY lucky enough to become an exceptional chef. It's how many places keep menu prices as low as they are. Fair? No. But it's the reality of the situation. It's also why many line cooks are thin, bordering anorexic-looking. We are too busy putting in 60-80 hour weeks to try to make sure our rent, bills, and any other expenses we accrue get paid before we think about stopping to eat.

With my new part-time gig, I'm finally going to be able to knock out some of the debt I've accrued over 5 years of awful decisions. That excites me, it really does. Unfortunately, I still get hit with minor setbacks that completely rattle me. My phone service, for example, has been suspended at the moment. I won't have money for that for another week and a half. A year ago, I wouldn't have cared about that as much. Now, however? I'm supposed to see James tomorrow for the first time in over a month. I feel sick to my stomach. I hate this feeling- it's like being a terrible financial Sysiphus. I know there's a light at the end of the tunnel, but daaaaamn it's frustrating getting there.

So remember folks, unless you are prepared for the inevitable ulcers and stress-induced alcoholism, don't cook for a living. Cheers~

Pirate cooking

There's something to be said for working in... "Less stringent" kitchens. My part time job, for example. The food is much better than I anticipated. However, because it is a cigar lounge, there is very little actual work to do in the kitchen. Just found out today the only reason they even have a kitchen was because they needed one for their liquor license.

What does that mean for me? It means I am given money to sit on my ass for 8hrs a shift. Hell, yesterday was my second day of training and all my boss and I did was eat cheese and kill a bottle of wine. Then subsequently mourn the fact we didn't have another. Tonight, we're having tuna tartar. It's a blessing in disguise- on the one hand, I'm not learning a thing. But I still get a few days relaxation, good food, and motivation to get my ass out of bed. I need those. Plus my boss and I get along great, so I can see myself sticking around for a while. Good things! And thank god I didn't have a job like this when I was younger- my career would have been FUCKED. Cheers!

Timing is Everything

I got reprimanded today. Just a small thing, but enough to make me feel like an idiot. Last night, I ended my shift believing I had plenty of pickled shrimp to get through tonight's shift. I made a note that none needed to be prepped. At 7pm tonight, I discovered that, while I still had quite a bit of shrimp, I had considerably less than I had last night. So I went to go prepare some mis-en-place (the ingredients necessary to prepare the dish), and asked the chef de cuisine and sous chef if there was more shrimp available to pickle. They shared a, "are you fucking kidding me?" look, and I explained I was prepping more to be on the safe side. The chef de cuisine let me know there was more, and added, "the next time you need shrimp, check yes on your prep sheet." The comment stung, as I hadn't realized lunch cooks were using my shrimp. But I do get why she was frustrated with me- I could have noticed the problem a lot sooner. Great for future reference on my part, though.

Timing has been one of the harder things for me to learn. I have very little patience, that usually bites me in the ass. Especially with relationships- I have yet to have a relationship last over 8 months, and usually sense the impending doom between 4-6 months. The end can be caused by a number of things- me, the boy involved, or outside influences; but I always end it. I know better, and find it easier to dismiss a problem relationship rather than try to change a person. When I think I've fallen in love, I fall for who I think that person is. I'm against trying to change people because I believe that if they truly wanted to change, they would do it. It is not, nor will it ever be, my place to play the mommy-figure in a relationship. So I've ended a lot of relationships.

I've also made the mistake of believing I was in love way before I could actually tell. Nine times out of 10, it wound up being extremely unrequited. Embarrassing, but I got over it. I'm still friends with those crushes, so it's worked out in the long run.

Which brings me to life as I know it these days. J and I have been seeing each other 6 months now. I still adore him, but I haven't told him the 'L' word specifically yet. That's not to say I haven't wanted to, I just choke every time I try. I'm scared I'll get rejected, even though logically, that is fucking dumb. I gotta get my timing right on this. Otherwise, I'm going to be shit out of luck. And shrimp.

Mystery Solved

So it looks like I am probably getting sick. WONDERFUL. Still feeling sluggish and achy. Granted, I'll still be going to work- I'll just be plugging as much citrus and water as my body can contain at any given time. It'll pass in a couple of days.

Welcome to the reality of working in kitchens! I absolutely adore what I do for a living, but sadly it doesn't pay enough to justify taking a day off to sleep. Luckily, even with my new second job, I still get one whole day to myself- Wednesday! Woo! Just need to get through half a week, and I'll be golden. Cheers!

Uuugh

When you wake up at 6am vomiting, there are a few troubleshooting questions you need to ask yourself- usually in this order:

1. Oh god, why???
2. Was it something I ate??
3. Wait, did I eat?
4. I didn't drink that much, did I?
5. If I take a pill, will I throw up again?
6. If I eat/drink anything, will I throw up again?
7. Will the dogs eat out of the barf bucket?
8. Oh shit, could I be pregnant?!
9. When is the last time I got laid??? ...damn, how depressing is that?
10. Can I afford to take the day off?

Sadly, I asked myself this questionnaire this morning. All answers were no, except for 9, which was, in fact, very depressing. Still no idea if I'm sick or hungover, but I guess I'll figure it out at some point today. Wish me luck!

My Meals vs Your Meals

The weirdest thing about working in and dating someone in kitchens for me is probably the fact that I rarely, RARELY, cook anymore. Nor does J. In fact, I have never tried J's cooking- I've eaten at his restaurant, but he wasn't in the kitchen that day. His line cooks did an excellent job, though.

I've got stuff I can cook with at home- nothing compared to the culinary playground that a commercial kitchen is, but a decent, serviceable work area and ingredients. The biggest trouble is, after cooking and caring for 8+ hours, followed by clean-up, I am too tired to give a shit. I shop and buy food that I specifically don't have to cook. Another guy I work with told me that, outside of family meal, he subsists on chips and pizza rolls.

"Never trust a skinny cook"- what a load of crap that is. We're whippet-thin by virtue of the fact that, while we eat, it is never enough to support our high-energy lifestyle. And we usually supplement our diets with beer- liquid bread. It worked for monks, so it's gotta be a halfway decent idea, non?

Anytime J and I are together, we always end up going to at least one restaurant, if not 2 or 3 (depends on how many meals we end up sharing). It's been awesome- while we have our favorites, we also manage to try a lot of cool places! The trickiest part of our evenings is usually trying to figure out where to go- it's always, "What do you feel like eating?" "Oh, I'm not picky. Anything is fine. Are you in the mood for anything?" "Nah- where's a good place?" "...hm... Well, there's x-and-such, restaurant x, blah-blah-blah..." And it always takes almost 15 minutes of that on repeat to figure anything out. Why don't we cook together? Because our time together is far too short to be bothered with dishes. Would it be amazing to get a home-cooked meal from him once? God yes, but to be fair, it would make my day to get *any* home cooked meal. Don't underestimate the power that a regular dinner has over a cook- can we cook better than you? Probably. However, none of us are picky, and frankly none of us want to cook post-shift. The way to our hearts is through our stomachs- just so long as our meats aren't burnt leather hockey pucks. Cheers~

Stone Soup Stock

Well! Solved my "free time" dilemma- picked up a second job today while I was enjoying the sunshine. By far the tiniest kitchen I've ever been hired to, but it'll be a nice, easy way to earn a smidge more cash. The place is a cigar lounge, so food isn't as important as it is in a lot of normal restaurants.

In other news, I made stone soup stock! Chefs swear by stock in a variety of different recipes, and I always pre-prep a lot and freeze it for later use. The trick with that is, I usually never have bones, or meat scraps, or anything that generally constitutes a good base for meat stocks. So, I make what I call stone soup stock- it's creation is based on the old story, and it's very simple:

• Open your fridge, pull out anything out that is about to 'turn', or go bad. Avoid starches like potatoes, rice, or pastas.
• Ask yourself, "is this a green? Is it supposed to be?"
• Throw it in a pot with as much water as you want stock. Make sure your ingredients are covered.
• Boil everything for an hour per gallon of water, then take it off the heat and let everything steep until it's all room temperature.
• Strain and save the liquid, throw out your leftovers. Boom, stock! Freeze it for later use.

It's only vaguely similar to stocks made in restaurants, but depending on what you throw in it, it'll give your home recipes really cool, unique flavors. The stock I made had kale in its production, so it's got this cool peppery aspect to it. Try different combinations of flavors, makes for great experimentation!

Easter Sunday

I am thanking every lucky star in the sky right now. The restaurant I work at isn't open on Sundays, so I didn't have to work a terrible brunch AND I got to do something cool to celebrate Easter!

On Saturday night, a coworker invited me to go get dim sum on Sunday, promising me a very authentic experience. We agreed to meet at a place called the Oriental Pearl in Chamblee, GA. When I got there the next day, the place was packed. Located in a little strip mall that proudly advertised itself as "Chinatown", there was plenty of time for us to check out everything that was there while we waited for our table. The group consisted of myself, the coworker, his girlfriend, and a sous chef from another place. They had all been to the Pearl before, so they took me a couple doors down to a large food court for our first round.

The food court was amazing. Not like the terrible place you're probably thinking of, with Sabarro and Cinnabon and all that nonsense. This place was legit Asian food, barely one menu in English. There was a stall that had a man hand-pulling noodles, flinging and stretching dough in a rhythmic, practiced pattern. The sous chef and I watched in awe, joined by a flock of children to check out the process. Another place specialized in larger roasted items, with whole roasted carcasses displayed behind a plate glass window. In the middle of the mall, outside of the food court; there was a tiny, beautiful courtyard tucked away. The entire place was amazing, like stepping into a strange blend of the Far East.

We got a doughnut and an order of duck to nosh on while we waited. The doughnut really wasn't anything special, just a long stick of plain fried dough, but the duck was incredible. Rich with flavor, juicy, and a beautiful dark amber-brown color, the meat had a sexy, slightly sweet flavor to it. My taste buds were getting jazzed up for our actual dining experience.

After 20 minutes, we went back to check on our table. We were promptly led to our table, which was still being cleaned- the staff was still in their peak lunch hour, so empty tables didn't have the luxury of staying empty even a minute here. As the busser finished wiping off the table, a waitress brought over plates, chopsticks, and a little order card. She took our drink order as we settled in, and disappeared into the back. We began to order.

That was one of the coolest parts about this place- the waitstaff played a very minimal part. All around the dining room, employees in red aprons pushed stainless steel carts around, loaded with food. Some were stacked with steamers full of buns, a couple were flattop grills for hotter entrees, still more were dumplings; EVERYTHING was on a cart and ready immediately. All we had to do is flag down one of the carts and point, the employee would scribble on our order card, and bam- food.

We flagged down just about everyone, only eschewing the veggie and rice carts, agreeing that sides had no purpose in that meal. And I tried EVERYTHING. Dumplings and buns, chicken feet and tripe- I honestly have no clue what half of the stuff was that I put in my face, it was too delicious and I didn't care. We ate and ate and ate, never ordering the same thing twice.

After an hour of what I can only call the best kind of gluttony, we all finally came to a slow, shuddering halt. We had hit 'food drunk'- a feeling of such pleasure that you literally feel a buzz. It's a tricky state to attain, many people overdo it and run to the, "oh god whyyyy" stomach-distending over fed stage. We all parted ways, and I headed home for a food coma.

I wasn't hungry again for 9 hours, a rarity for me. I can't recommend the Oriental Pearl enough. And I sure as hell can't wait to go back, probably with J!

Oriental Pearl
5399 New Peachtree Road
Chamblee, GA
770-986-9866