Competitive Edge

The past week, I have learned that I am faaaar more competitive than I thought I was.  I also learned that apparently,  people close to me weren't suprised at all. Crazy how you perceive yourself vs how the world sees you, right?

I guess I had blinders on because I am selectively competitive. I never bothered with sports because to me, they seemed stupid and pointless. Funny story: the stuff I get competitive over now? Pretty much stupid as hell. Work contests to sell the most beer, passing training with flying colors and being a better smartypants know-it-all than anyone else? I am ALL OVER that. I go for what my brain sees as the "sure win", something I am 100% sure I can do. And if I fail? I get snotty and pretend that I don't care. Yeah, I'm a pretty sore loser, haha.

What's even dumber? I have a tendency to do that when it comes to guys, too. I actively engage with guys I want, but if I get the feeling they aren't into me? I drop them into the friendzone faster than a stripper's bra hits the floor. I demand equal chase ffrom them, and when it doesn't happen, well, what's the point? On the one hand, it means I will probably be single for a looooong time. On the other, isn't it better to hold a potential partner to a higher standard than people you would be friends with?  I love my friends,  but I don't want to marry them. The One has to step up his or her game. I don't need them to be a superhero, but they had better be able to distinguish themself. I want the best,  and I'm not afraid to ask for it.

... Seriously, how did I not know how competitive I am??

Homey Homies

I recently had the pleasure of cooking with a friend.  Not, I-cook-for-him or He-cooks-for-me, but an actual collaboration meal that we planned together,  shopped for, and executed as a team. I can't remember the last time I did that. I forgot how nice it was. 

It really hit home why I enjoy food so much- aside from the incredible flavors you can unearth,  it brings people together. I'm far too lazy to do any kind of real study, but I doubt I would be remiss in saying that people who live to eat vs eat to live are exponentially happier.

Plus, cooking together is just plain fun! Nobody is bored, and conversation doesn't stop. Add wine, and it damn near becomes a party. This entire experience has made me happy enough that, when I am in a position to do so again, "family meals" are going to be a regular occurrence at my place. Friends, family, train hoppers- whoever has time and is hungry will be welcome at my table. No exception. 

In the meantime, I find myself working crazy hours this weekend, so Saturday night/eeeeearly Sunday morning when I got home, I threw a crapload of stuff in a crockpot I found at Salvation Army for $3. I'm calling it SoCo Stewp.

Stewp is what I'm calling the watery stews my father specialized in.  Stew-soup, get it? This particular one is made with:

1 lb stew beef
1 russet potato, small diced
2 long celery stalks, sliced small
2 roma tomatoes,  diced
1 cup of grated carrot
1/2 medium white onion, small diced
1 qt veal stock
Juuuuust enough water to cover all of the ingredients
Salt to taste
Lemon pepper to taste
1 oz Southern Comfort 100 Proof

Directions:

1. Gather all of your shit together that you'll need
2. Put it all in the crockpot
3. Keep the crock pot on high heat for 2 hours, then go work or fuck off for 14 hours with that sucker on low heat. Stewp's done when the potato pieces are tender and or mushy. Again, to taste.

Simple, pretty basic, and the booze gives it complexity and me an excuse to get rid of that godawful liquor. Everyone wins!

Working hard! (For once...)

So it occurred to me that I probably ought to use this blog not only as a venting space, but also as something of progressing joiurnal of the creation of my pub. I have read countless chef memoirs and books that make a vague mention of 'how hard' it is, and many chefs and owners I know personally will tell you straight up that it took them years to get up and running. However,  I have never talked to an entrepreneur who was able to reminisce and give me even the vaguest of timelines. Even myself, personally,  when I tell people I'm optimistic about opening in 2016, I get asked, "why are you waiting so long?"

Here's the reality- I'm not waiting.  This pub is the result of 4 years of brainstorming already,  I've just finally gotten to a place where I am mentally prepared to take the plunge and really, truly work on it. And it is WORK.

You may first wonder, why did it take you so long to brainstorm? Frankly,  when I first got the inclination to start a place, I only had the vaguest idea of what I wanted to do. It would have been like trying to build a house on a jell-o foundation,  and it would have failed miserably.  It took me time to gather new experiences,  try a variety of different bars and restaurants to find what I truly enjoyed, and really solidify my concept. Then came the paperwork part.

I despise paperwork.  Love writing, haaaaaate business-y official documentation.  It's boring. And doing research?  Blows. I spent 11 hours on Tuesday writing up the introduction to my business plan and researching potential menu items and formats. This week, I'm going to wind up spending another 11 hours copying recipes and costing them to start creating a mock budget. And that's still only maybe 1/8th of the plan. This is a massive headache,  but I keep telling myself it'll be worth it.  Atlanta needs my place.
Got this. :)

Brain Drain

Life is just such a crazy amazeballs clusterfuck sometimes! And I am willing to admit a large portion of that may be because I am a bit of a goddamn lunatic.
For starters,  dating.  Jesus christ I haven't been single long and I am sick of it already. I'm tired of meeting people,  I'm tired of building connections that go nowhere, and more than anything else I am sick of not having someone to call and be my sounding board. I want to get married,  dammit. More than anything,  I want to marry the man that knows all the good and bad about me, and can put up with me when I freak out and calls me out when I'm being a bitch. He exists, I know he does, I just need him to reveal himself before I go on another godawful date wih another sadsack of a human being.

Can I sound any more like a Bitter Single Girl? Probably,  but nobody wants to read that. I'll get over it and be fine soon enough, but sometimes you just need to vent! Honestly, life is pretty good for me right now.  Passed my trail- I start training at the wine bar on Saturday night. They have thw coolest hiring procedure- the staff has the final hiring decision,  not the management. Frankly, it makes a lot of sense if you think about it- restaurant managers don't work with the servers and bartenders as closely as they do with each other.  So isn't it better if your coworkers decide if they can put up with you day in and day out? It's brilliant,  and a strategy I intend to implement in my place when it gets up and running.

As for my future place, things are moving in a very positive direction!  I fully believe that it will be operational by 2016. Good things! I will be posting more of the nitty-gritty details in the upcoming year! 

W(h)ining

There is something to be said for intimidation in the restaurant industry.  It has the potential to be a dealbreaker,  or for the truly insane among us, a motivator. Whena person clearly has more knowledge than I do,  and who isn't afraid to let me know that he or she knows I'm full of shit and they aren't buying it, it rattles me. A lot. It doesn't happen often,  especially in the professional arena. So when it does? I take notice. Because much like cough syrup, after you get that first nasty bit out of the way, it helps you get better.
I have been looking for part time work to supplement my income recently.  Today I applied at an upscale wine bar. I am more than willing to admit, while I am a fan of wine and drink it fairly frequently,  I am by no means an expert. However,  I'm usually on point enough with other alcohol knowledge to deflect that. Nooooot today. Once I finished my application,  I was sat down for an initial interview.  And proceeded to mentally get smacked around by a professional. By the time all was said and done,  I felt like Robert Parker pushed me in the playground and kicked sand in my eyes.
But all in all? Worth it. I'm trailing there on Monday. It's not a guarantee of a job, but it is an opportunity I don't intend to waste!

Stewed Mood

Got into a developmental mood last night. Decided it was time to work on my German cooking again and test out a recipe that I haven't tried before.  So, I busted out my Culinaria: German book, called up my hungry friend, and grabbed wine.

Decided to do a recipe based out of a region of Germany called North Rhine-Westphalia. The dish? Münsterländer Töttchen, aka Münsterland Veal Stew.  I picked it because for one, the ingredient list is relatively easy to find products. Two, I will readily admit I usually suck at making stew. In the past, I generally wind up with crappy thin soup with stringy, tough meat much like my father does. I wanted to see if I am genetically predisposed to shitty stew-making. For a side item, I chose spätzle, egg noodles I made time and time again when I worked in a German kitchen. The biggest difference with that would be instead of using an arm-busting noodle press like I had in the past, I would be attempting to use an old-fashioned "shaving" method.

The stew had me start off by essentially making a quick veal stock. Simple enough. Carrots, celery, onion, a bit of parsley and green onion simmering with some veal for an hour or so- child's play. The oddest part about that was the recipe called for the onion to be 'spiked' with one bay leaf and two cloves. What the fuck is a spiked onion? The book didn't say and Google just wanted to give me soup recipes, so I opted to just throw the cloves and bay leaf in with the rest of the stock veg.

While that was working,  I got my spätzle dough together.  Spätzle is a very simple noodle, just eggs, flour, a smidge of spices and salt, and water. The kicker is that the dough has to be incredibly thick and sticky, which can make it a beast to work with and a bitch to clean up. My dough ready, I got a pot of very salty water boiling and began to attempt to shave the dough off a wet cutting board to create noodles.  It was doable, but what a load of crap. I can't believe I'm saying this, but I would much rather use the arm-buster. Shaving resulted in a lot of inconsistent sizing, which made pan frying later a bit sketchy. Anyway,  once the dough hit the water, it only took a couple minutes for it to cook and float to the top. Skimming the noodles out, I dropped them into a mixing bowl with ice in it to keep them from overcooking.  Once all of the noodles were made, I rinsed them and strained them, then coated them in olive oil to prevent sticking while I finished the rest of the stew.

Once the stock was finished,  I strained it and removed the meat, putting that to the side while I chucked the rest of the veg in the garbage. Grabbing a new pan, I proceeded to sauté chopped onion in clarified butter. The onion was supposed to cook until translucent,  but I got distracted and they wound up caramelizing a bit- oops. Whatever,  wasn't burnt! I then sprinkled flour over the onions, whisking it in, to essentially create an onion roux. Threw in some wine, a bit of the stock, the veal, and voila! A couple minutes reducing and I had a sexy looking stew. Seasoned it with a bit of salt, pepper, sugar, and mustard, and it was ready to eat.

Using the rest of my clarified butter, I pan-fried the spätzle umtil it was lightly crisped, then put the noodles in bowls and topped it off with the stew. A quick refill of the wine, and bam- chow time!

I was overall happy with the outcome,  though now that I've done it once, there's definitely stuff I would do differently next time. For starters,  have stock made ahead of time,  and make it really concentrated for a more robust flavor. I'd simmer the meat in the stock all day, get it really melt-in-your-mouth tasty, and then once dinnertime was actually on me it'd tuen into a 5-10 minute pick-up. Suuuuper easy. As for the spätzle,  I'm wishing for an arm-buster for Christmas. 

If you want to try this yourself,  look for the cookbook Culinaria: Germany. The stew is on page 214 and a good spätzle recipe is on page 330. Or e-mail/message me and I'll send it to you.

Prost, dahlings!

A Tribute

Charlie Trotter died yesterday.  It's a strange thing for me to process. For those that don't live restaurants like I do, Charlie Trotter was one of the first to be considered a famous chef. His restaurant in Chicago helped define the new standards of dining,  and his books are a testament to his passion for the craft.
I never ate at his restaurant.  I never spoke with the man. But his influences helped define the restaurants that in turn, defined me. He was a polarizing figure, no doubt,  but nobody can say he had a bad effect on the industry.  He was only 54 when he passed. Gone too soon. His legacy of standards and achievements will not be forgotten,  though. Cheers, Mr. Trotter.  Hope your last meal was a good one.

Testosteroney-O's

It should come as no surprise that I am a tomboy.  I grew up with 2 brothers, 5 male cousins, and a bunch of uncles in a very military-focused family. We played rough, watching hockey and playing video games together,  and being outdoorsy.  I can pitch a tent in 10 minutes and make a slapshot.
Coincidentally, I have far more guy friends than girl. I can count my close girl friends on one hand.  It was never intended like that, guys just make more sense to me. I also have the rare self-awareness that girls are batshit insane, and I can barely handle my own crazy most of the time.
I love having guy's nights. Nights where the guys and I will go out, get hammered on whiskey or beer, watch stupid cartoons or sports,  and eat meat. Preferably steak. Nights where we live like Ron Swanson for a few hours. Those are good nights.
Occasionally, significant others will get curious.  I make sure to inform any potential suitors about my guy friend ratio, because if there is one thing that pisses me off, it's unwarranted jealousy. They raise eyebrows and may ask questions,  but I'm ok with that - it's a respect thing for me. More often than not, it's my friends' girlfriends that get bent out of shape because they have not been properly appraised of the situation. Let me get on my soapbox here for a minute...
Relationships are about trust and respect,  period. If you ever find yourself questioning the other person's motives or intentions,  you probably need to take a step back and really think about whether you are in in for the right reasons period. There is no point in staying with someone to avoid loneliness,  that's fucking stupid. So shame on my guys for not being straightforward with their ladies, and shame on the ladies for overreacting.  And for god's sake, if you break up with someone,  that is one or both of you saying, "I do not want you as a romantic interest in my life anymore", NOT "we actually are still in love just give me a week or two to remember". Love is not something that gets forgotten.
So coming back to my point. A couple nights ago, I was having a guy's night with one of my friends. We drank whiskey,  hung out in dive bars, made steak, and had a grand old time. I wound up passing out at his house,  in his bed, fully clothed. There was plenty of blankets and whatnot separating us, it was clearly platonic. I woke up to the following story:
*His ex girlfriend* came home in the middle of the night with a mutual friend of all of ours (she knows me as well, we're friends), and found us passed out.  Apparently, my friend woke up to her standing over him in the dark, where she proceeded to have a meltdownand left. I, thankfully, slept through the whole thing.
I processed this information,  shook my head, and got ready for work. My friend also got dressed,  he lives a town over and was going to drive me back to the city. We were up pretty early,  contemplating getting coffee and whatnot. And thank god we were- he couldn't find his keys. He is a creature of habit, he always follows a routine. He doesn't lose things because he always knows where he puts them, the exact same place they always go. Following so far? So you can guess where this is going.
She took his keys.
Didn't take the car, even left the wallet. But took the keys and forced me to take a $30 cab ride to work. I can understand being upset, I can even see it possibly being an accident.  But ladies of the world,  let me put this out there for you...
IF YOU ARE GOING TO BE ABSOLUTELY NUTTERBUTTERS, MAKE SURE IT DOESN'T AFFECT ANYONE BUT YOUR CRAZY ASS. We all know when we are going off the deep end.  It's got it's warning signs. But if you are thinking of some stupid revenge thing, or arguing with a person, chances are you are going to wind up screwing with a third party that had nothing to do with it. I say this with love- be fucking classy, and keep the insanity to yourself and your therapist. Otherwise,  I am happy to share these kinds of stories on the Internet.  And laugh the whole day through.