This Was Going to Be Fiction, but ADHD…

I really need to start making outlines before I write, because gardening leads to great things in blogging and plot holes in fiction. The reason there are no plot holes in my blog is that I don’t care if you find them. Just because I didn’t tell you the whole story according to everyone in the room doesn’t make it less untrue. It is me crafting the narrative without taking anyone else’s feelings into consideration. It sounds harsh and cold, but I don’t mean it that way. The reason I only include my perceptions of people’s feelings rather than what they actually are is because I am not a mind reader.

If they were bloggers, their stories would be up to a hundred percent different from mine because we were watching something from different perspectives.

“What color was the light?”

This is why I don’t care what anyone says about me, either, because they’re just as entitled to their opinions as I am to mine. For instance, I know for sure that Supergrover’s story is completely different from mine because she stopped telling it; she could then easily blame me for being a dictator when I laid out my fears, hopes, and dreams. In fact, she actually said that I was not the only arbiter of our relationship, and that’s the message I’ve been trying to give her for 10 years. She doesn’t have as much power in the relationship because she’s not vulnerable. If she laid out her thoughts and feelings, mine would adjust. Because now I just feel like I’m intruding, I’ll write her a long letter every few months because I can’t be sure God is listening, but I can be sure she is. I’ve been saying that for 10 years as well.

I destroyed that relationship out of my own insecurities because she would not do anything to calm them. She’d waffle between feeling like my Mama Wolverine and wanting out of my life for good within weeks of each other. She has also said that no matter what, we have a past, a present, and a future….. because I’m part of her wild and crazy brain. When she said that, I told her she was part of my wild and crazy soul. It’s true. I’m yin and she’s yang, except with a lot more gray area in the middle. What I’ve always tried to stop is feeling worthless because the cycle ran thusly:

I would open up about something deep, and she wouldn’t respond at all because “she didn’t have time.” I didn’t get frustrated that she didn’t have time. I got frustrated that her letters were short and didn’t tell me anything. I know that’s half because she’s protecting herself and half because I’m a blogger. My blog is the bane of my existence because it brought us together and tore us apart all in one breath. She knows she’ll always have to be a reader because we know each other, and as I told her in my last letter, “none of this will mean shit to you until it’s been five or 10 years and you see yourself as a different person. Then, the 3D character you don’t see will emerge, because you’re looking for the good things now because you want to remember. I told her about the 614,000 words I’d written in 2023, so I said something like I’ve talked about our problems, but I’ve loved you up just as much…… in all six books.

I also think that if her life is cut short like my mother’s that other people who knew her will want to read my perceptions all the more, because they’re the ones that are going to want to “spend time with her” the most. I feel like I started writing more deeply about her after my mother died, because she wasn’t my mother, but she was someone’s. The worst time she never knew she hurt me (because I didn’t want to rock the boat) was when I told her that she had a “suburban mom vibe.” She said that was probably the meanest thing I’d ever said to her, and because she is who she is, I thought she was joking. She proceeded to rip me a new asshole, when in my mind that archetype was the one I needed the most desperately, the one I’d just lost.

I’ll never forget that because she was a fan first, she has read my story and accepted it as my reality, not hers…. but she’s found truth and beauty in it. When she hasn’t been angry, she’s been very kind about how brilliant a writer I am. But what I don’t know, and will never know at this point, is how she really feels about me.

I called her on it, and she noped out…. because she realized she was waffling and couldn’t give me a solid answer. But what I know for sure, like, Oprah-level sure, is that she’s worth it….. that the experience was worth it even if it’s over now.

I didn’t move to DC to be near her, because I already had my own thing going and my sister dropping in all the time (I actually see her more now). But what I didn’t expect is that we’d still be having the same fight 10 years later when it would have been so easy to solve everything in the length of one coffee/beer.

What I know is that I was too hard on her in my own insecurity, because if she didn’t want to make up her mind, I was out. I didn’t need to inflict fear of a phone call or get-together. I was furious that after 10 years she wouldn’t tell me the truth about anything.

She practically treated me like a stalker when I never was that…. at all. If I was, we wouldn’t have made up. But those feelings of fear remain, so I thought it was crazy when she said, “do you think I care if you look up public information about me?” Ummmm…. yes. Yes, I do. To the point where if I really thought about it, I might throw up. Going back to those days in my mind is torture, and I’ve been trying to forgive myself and can’t. I said some things that never should have been said on a wide variety of topics, and the fact that she hung in for the ride means more to me than she’ll ever know.

However, when I started doing actual conflict resolution and not letting her rattle me by escalating, I was dismissed. That leads me down two trains of thought. The first is that she likes the ups and downs because getting her anger out is a good thing. I don’t care if it’s at me. She’s got to emote sometime, and anger is an emotion. Her outbursts at me are the most emotion I’ve seen out of her in a long time. That’s because I know she’s going through the shit, so I pray for her. The second is that she’s simply avoidant because she doesn’t know how to open up, and that’s not personal to me at all. I can imagine that if she’s shut down with me, she’s shut down with more than just me.

The way you resolve conflict is learned in your first family, and it takes extensive therapy to make a relationship last because you’re constantly trying to merge two parenting styles. My family was all buttoned up for many years. We got over it. It was better to be mad in the moment and forgive quickly than it was to hold onto frustration for years and years. Therefore, it’s very hard for me to be in a relationship where people keep their anger, guilt, whatever bottled up. I can’t stop thinking about when the other shoe is going to drop. Neither does my beautiful girl, because her answer is to keep avoiding everything and my answer is “there’s no way back, only through.” I can’t do much to help the relationship heal, but like I said, I pray for her every night, and it’s been the same prayer every night for the last 10 years.

If there truly is a God, they can go places with her that I can’t. It comforts me to know that she’s not alone, because even if she doesn’t think God is listening, it’s a comforting image, anyway.

What I missed were all the ways we treated each other during new relationship energy. We lovebombed the absolute fuck out of each other. I have never found anyone like her, and I keep saying that, but some things are too unique. It’s not only that letting you know would be telling her story and not mine, it’s that there are some things about any relationship that I keep private so that there are some things only for me.

You absolutely can’t go back to lovebombing each other if you can’t do conflict resolution over and over. When I stood up, she did not rise to meet me. I didn’t so much let her go, but let her go back to the way she used to live.

I told her she was a phoenix, and I can’t wait to see her rise from the ash…… because she has, professionally. I’m not so sure about relationships, but I only have ours as an example.

I got that INFJ judgmental bastard urge to drag people into the light whether they want to go or not. However, I am not judgmental of people. I’ve wanted to be a lawyer most of my life and have done well in undergrad regarding the preparation for it. Therefore, I will lay out facts representing what I think about both sides of a situation. I am not saying “you’re a bad person.” I am basically reading my emotional docket and the case in front of me has as many complications as medicine. The diagnosis in medicine is the same as the verdict in law: it depends.

I am emotionally capable of being fair and balanced, but because I’m autistic, I’m often not thinking of how to phrase things so that they’ll come across as how I meant them to a neurotypical person. And here, on my blog, some of the literary devices I use don’t make sense unless you’re talking to me behind the scenes.

That’s always what brought Supergrover back around. She didn’t like reading the blog without the brochure, as I’ve said before. But if she talked to me, she’d see that I was being quite reasonable and had a good head on my shoulders. What she has not realized is the lengths I’ve gone to in order to protect her and harps on breadcrumbs I never would have seen……… unless we had talked about it.

In this way, I am my own main character (in the original writing prompt, the kid was a picky eater), because when I feel these emotional situations weighing themselves in my mind, I develop sensory issues because I need deprivation so badly to regulate my emotions. I don’t even listen to music when I write anymore. I just listen to my typing.

There are days when I can’t take exciting food, because I’ve already had it up to my eyeballs. A meltdown would be serving me something from a restaurant instead of a peanut butter and banana sandwich, because I was overstimulated before you brought home lobster.

I don’t have very good meltdowns. I have shutdowns. I am not very good at standing up for myself, nor being impolite or socially awkward in any way. Therefore, having a meltdown in front of someone would have to be major. I’d eat the lobster, I’d just hate that the food is one more thing I don’t have the bandwith with which to pay attention.

Meltdown often comes online, when I am overstimulated and itching for a fight. But I’m so dextrous with words that I’m not looking to destroy people (though some would say I am after a straight woman read an entire thread from me and a friend talking about how straight people could support queer people, and then asked me for ideas on making an ally flag. Now, in this instance, angry black woman and angry white lesbian are not dissimilar. I don’t want to do work for straight people. Look it up. Read the rest of the comments, at least.

She caught me on a very bad day and she was also uneducated as fuck, so I could have been nicer and I didn’t know how. I just had to be kind. I don’t remember exactly what I said, but it was heated…. where I took apart every one of her talking points in order to educate herself on being the parent of someone queer, because if you have a queer child, you can’t possibly have institutionalized homophobia, now can you? I also have mixed emotions about straight people wearing rainbow flags, because they have the option to take them off.

Most of the time, though, I go in and de-escalate a situation. I’ve whipped line cooks’ asses and it turned into an actually deep conversation. It was a Taylor Swift joke in poor taste and I took issue with that.

I am certain that I have responded like this to Supergrover, but because she didn’t see the meltdown, she didn’t see me as trying to be kind but not nice. I will agree that I was over the top, but I never said anything untrue about our anxious/avoidant attachment. I don’t expect her to treat my anxious attachment with kid gloves. I expect her not to withold information so that I know exactly what’s going on, because I can’t process situations on no information from the other person. I will send myself into a spiral. I don’t think I’ve ever had a problem about which I couldn’t overthink.

So, the less information she gave me, the more I spiraled out trying to fix things, because I assumed that everything was all about me. It’s not because it actually was. It’s that I had absolutely no information to the contrary to put things into context/perspective.

We don’t have a context, and that’s a good thing most of the time because we can talk about things without it affecting everyone else in our physical lives. But over time, it began to be a hard row to hoe, because I wanted peace……

One way or the other.

The Sunday Shop

List your top 5 grocery store items.

Here, in no particular order, are a few of my favorite things- minus raindrops on roses and whiskers on kittens….. sadly, even if I order food from Amazon, it still won’t come in brown paper packages tied up with string………. the dog bite and the bee sting in the whole operation.

  1. Dr Pepper Zero
    • Of all the no sugar sodas out there, I think it tastes the most authentic. Everything is held to Dr Pepper Zero standards, and few have met it. If Dr Pepper Zero was unavailable (at Safeway, it usually is), I don’t mind any of the zero colas. DPZ is just my favorite. Interestingly enough, I don’t buy a lot of it anymore. I used to drink a ton of soda, but now that I drink flavored water, soda is on the back burner.
  2. Water Bottle Mix-ins
    • Most of the things on this list will probably be drinks because I don’t go out of my way to eat. I know it sounds weird, but most people with ADHD or ASD (or AuDHD) have trouble remembering to eat, or get demand avoidance with cooking. I do stay hydrated, though, and my favorite are the little sticks of drink powder you can add to a water bottle. Giant makes a lemon honey green tea that’s very good, and so is Crystal Light Pure.
  3. The Crab Chip, Utz
    • They’re too salty, and you notice quickly. You will never stop eating them at any point. There are other brands of Old Bay flavored potato chips, but this is the gold standard. It’s also not a requirement to like Old Bay when you arrive in Maryland, either, but I will say you’ll have a hard time adjusting if you don’t care for it. 😉
  4. Beyond Italian Sausage
    • I know that this is going to sound weird, but I like Beyond Italian sausage vs. pork/beef in everything requiring it. I can’t even explain to you why I think it’s better, I just think it is. There’s no moral judgment here, I’m a line cook. I’m telling you what I like. It’s very good sautéed loose for spaghetti sauce or in the casing for sandwiches. It’s probably better for you in saturated fat, but that’s not why I eat it. I like what I like. 😉 I also don’t know who needs to hear this because I don’t have a deep fryer. Beyond sausage tastes amazing dropped in a deep fryer and just served on a bun. You don’t even need condiments.
  5. Tillsmook ice cream
    • If you’re an Oregonian, cheese identifies as Tillamook. We don’t have any other brands. It has extended to all dairy for me, because it’s the brand I trust. Their ice cream is every bit as decadent as their sharpest cheddar. I usually get Oregon Dark Cherry, but I’ve gotten other flavors in the past…. but not for at least a year or so, because I find something I like and eat it until I’m tired of it. It’s very, very hard to get tired of Oregon Dark Cherry ice cream. The only thing better is if I could get marionberry instead.

If there is a bonus, sometimes I grab a 5 Hour Energy in the checkout. They’re great with a seltzer “back,” and even though the vitamins don’t taste ideal, I do need them. I’ve just cut down on caffeine an enormous amount, because I realized that I couldn’t replace sleep with drugs, as much as I’d like to be able to do so……… I’ve checked with me, though, and sleeping the correct amount is non-negotiable. I’ve missed a lot of tricks from being tired, because my disabilities don’t have a chance to be less annoying if I keep getting more and more exhausted without recharging. I’m not even sure I have USB-C yet. 😉

It has also been years since I’ve been grocery shopping in person, because I started getting my groceries delivered during the pandemic and I never stopped. It’s a necessity for me because I’d still have to Uber home with all my groceries, so why not just pay someone else? It works out to be the same.

Also not a grocery store item, necessarily, but I love it that stores have SBUX inside. I love to drink an iced tea when I’m shopping, and the only time I do that is when I’m getting prescriptions refilled and have to pick them up in person.

If there’s anything you should be glad I get at the grocery store, it’s my medications. 😉

I Could Take It or Leave It

What are your feelings about eating meat?

I used to be vegan, and probably would be full time if I was interested in spending all my money at Whole Foods (but God, is it fun….. I’ve found so much that I love). Now, I’m mostly vegetarian because I don’t like cooking meat, but I’ll have it if it is prepared for me. For instance, once in a blue moon I’ll get a whole roasted chicken from Safeway. I can’t eat a whole chicken, but many times I have tried. 😉 In true autistic fashion, I have my favorites and I order them every single week. This is because I truly love adventurous food, when that is my focus. I have to cut out all my sensory issues to be able to focus, so food is one of them. White bread. Pizza with extra cheese and mild sauce. Eggs. Butter. Cheddar. The most challenging thing I bought was a jar of pesto for a frozen pizza and later spaghetti this week. Sometimes I make pesto Alfredo with pumpkin seeds as protein. If I am writing while I work, it’s ham, turkey, or egg on toast with cheese, or plain pancakes with one note syrup. However, I don’t like the same sandwich forever. I don’t choose one food and eat it every day. I choose a diet for the week and buy the same thing every time. It is so comforting when every bite is the same, and also something rich in its simplicity. I can do a lot with an egg and some cheddar. I prefer the texture of cheese when it’s cold, so I learned early on how to make the perfect scrambled egg and just lay it on top of the cheese and toast.

I am also very, very fond of the classic French-style sandwich. It’s really good white bread toast (I use Wonder, there is no substitute in this country), lots of butter, Swiss, mustard, and black pepper. I’ve been eating that almost every day for lunch this year. Very occasionally, I buy spring mix to wilt into eggs, rice, and lentils…. sometimes Brussels sprouts either fresh or roasted. But again, not often, because I tend to repeat things. I don’t have to eat fancy food all the time- that’s what makes it a treat.

I had a craving for fried chicken the other day, and that’s because Uber Eats was having a sale. I got 10 pieces of chicken (first of all, I really had no idea how much food that actually was), two sides of collard greens, and a Mac and cheese. When I got the chicken, I immediately deboned it and put it away for sandwiches, because by the time I’d put everything away, I’d snacked on enough. Really good local place, cheaper and better than KFC and of course now I don’t remember the name of it. I hope I recognize it again, but there’s nothing like trying a local restaurant that hast stuff on sale. It’s how I found out you can order prepared crawfish, which is also on the list of acceptable foods. AuDHD requires stability and flexibility, which in me is an iron structure for when I experience new things and when I don’t. Sometimes I have the bandwidth, sometimes I’m a picky eater. It depends.

Today it was chicken, cheddar, and honey mustard- total Boston Market throwback. Probably Sunkist limon later, a drink that tastes like the best Mexican street lemonade in the world and is sugar free. I could mix it with tea if I could be arsed to cold brew. I know I’ve already forgotten milk this week (or haven’t checked to see if I need more, but it’s almost time). The only problem is that you can’t get the bags back out of soda bottles easily, so it becomes a two use sort of deal. But I get plenty of soda when I’m out, and 20oz Coke Zero bottles work well for cold brew. I would use one tea bag if I was going to drink it straight, two or three if I was going to add milk (shaking it with Splenda and almond milk is delicious).

I’ve also started buying a package of cookies every week because they’re good as an accessory to ice cream if someone comes over and I need something nice, or just on their own. I like the white bread biscuits with the chocolate square on top. Yes, it’s a cookie, but it tastes British so I’ll give it to them.

I also generally get bananas, because I get some sandwich meat and eggs, but that’s not enough protein for every meal. It might not seem related, but vegans live on peanut butter and, often, banana sandwiches. It’s as packed with nutrition as rice and beans. (Rice, beans, and eggs are everything you need to start your day.) I know I have these things in the pantry somewhere, but I need to look for them. Frozen pizza is life because I can’t make cheese toast that good.

In short, I believe that eating meat is fine as long as you do it in moderation. Eat food. Not a lot. Mostly plants. Michael Pollan set me on the right track, because I eat whatever I want. Most of the time, it’s something ambitious with vegetables because there are just so many recipes I haven’t tried……. or made my own.

I have “fixed” many major sauces and soups. Campbell’s is the gold standard, don’t touch it. If I had to pick a favorite, cream of lettuce or mushroom made with whole milk and extra fresh lettuce or grilled/sautéed mushrooms. When you eat Campbell’s, you’re generally invoking someone’s childhood and it’s hard to mess with that. With all soup bases it’s easier not to reinvent the wheel unless you just like boiling chicken carcasses. Yes, I agree with David Chang that all pre-made stock is garbage, but I’m not standing over the stove to make fresh, either. He can. I’ll just add some of his momofuku pepper sauce to my boxed setup and he can tell me if it’s not okay. I don’t need it to be perfect, I just need it to be the base when building a chord.

It’s beautiful whether I’m eating meat or not, because I actually like mushroom stocks and gravies better than chicken. To me, it actually tastes better….. particularly on poutine.

Let’s end on poutine. I’d like to think about mushroom gravy and cheese a while longer. Maybe get some collard greens with bacon to go on top.

It’s a good image, because yesterday was a day and I’m still recovering. Sometimes I think so hard I have to stop. I have reached the end of my battery, but it will recharge eventually. I always set out with the best of intentions to post, and for the last several months I’ve missed one day. Some of it is the feeling of wanting to get plunked out of obscurity knowing that blogging is not X Factor material, Most of it is that in order to be ready for what’s coming, I need to be in shape.

I get that through how I feel about eating meat- nonplussed, except on the days when I’m obsessed with it because I’ve made the commitment to truly cut down. It’s been a dramatic change, but worth it. Superfood is really a thing. You’ll like greens better with vinegar. On the poutine. That’s you’re going to eat because I suggested it.

My Family Does

Do you or your family make any special dishes for the holidays?

I don’t cook anything for holidays anymore, because when I got divorced and moved to DC, I moved in with a family who already had Thanksgiving wired, and I wasn’t the only cook in the house. One of my housemates when I first arrived had gone to Johnson & Wales, and was the chef at Jaleo Crystal City (Jose Andres is the executive chef, I mean the guy who actually ran the restaurant on a day-to-day basis). Therefore, I know Jose Andres intimately, even if he doesn’t know me…. and all of his secrets are safe. 😉

We used to laugh together about the things that happened around us that we were helpless to stop. Neither one of us in all of our cosmic culinary power could get people to stop putting knives in the dishwasher or in the bottom of the sink. More than once did we look at each other and say, “I can’t.” We honestly didn’t spend that much time together, it’s that our relationship was like all brothers in arms. We had an emotional shorthand not there for others in the house. If you are not a person with ADHD/Autism when you start a kitchen job, you will gain the ability to see the kitchen that way. Everything in cooking is a sensory issue, and you’re learning to fine-tune it. The tiniest changes will cause absolute anarchy.

For me, a big one is soap. They’re all concentrated differently, and it seems there is a large leap from generic to brand. It also affects the kitchen to change the smell of the dish soap, because you get used to how those fragrances mix with spice. For instance, going from a floral scent to a lemon scent gave me gastrointestinal issues because the lemon mixed with the scent of eggs and ruined Hollandaise sauce for me because every time I think of it one of the flavor notes is surfactant.

Soap is a trigger for a much bigger sensory issue overall. Most autistic people who have sensory issues with smell are because it’s turned up to “pregnant woman.” I throw up more due to bad smells than anything else, and why when I live alone and have a cat, I have disposable litter boxes and change them out often rather than ever force myself to change it. I was lucky in that Dana didn’t mind and had permanent boxes at her house, but I wasn’t counting on her to care for Asher. I had my own system, I just didn’t have to use it. I wasn’t allergic to chores. I traded that one out.

Being married is really the last time I had any holiday traditions, because when I moved to DC, I was folded into an established family here, Lebanese heritage and not Irish. For Thanksgiving and Christmas we have turkey and dolmades. Stuffing and kibbi (Kibbi is actually one of our dog’s names, too- “meatball,” basically, in Arabic). It’s a wonderful life. Hayat and I have talked often about the fact that “I’ve picked up Arabic,” because when I first moved in, Hayat spoke Arabic and Nasim spoke Farsi. I asked both of them if it would bother them for me to listen in on their phone calls, because I didn’t want it to feel creepy and I knew they wouldn’t really, either since I don’t understand either language. I just wanted to take away the feeling that I was trying not to watch them by making it obvious that I was.

Listening to Nasim was hearing the end of “Argo” all day long. Learning the Levantine dialect of Arabic was learning the rolling lilt of the ocean and not the Middle East RP equivalent, Cairo (I checked). Some words in Egypt and Lebanon are different, some words are the same because Lebanon has had a bigger influx of Mediterranean immigrants. In fact, my cover photo on Facebook is a picture Hayat took of the marina in Beirut, now a city on my bucket list if it ever calms down enough for me to go. I would feel comfortable with Daniel or Zac in that situation, but I would not feel comfortable traveling without someone who could defend both of us. That whole idea started the romance with Daniel, because I initially wanted a travel companion and then I realized I wanted him. I don’t know whether Zac and I will ever travel together or not, but what I do know is that he may have not been in the same situations as Daniel, but not because he didn’t train for them.

But Zac and I haven’t started our own traditions yet because we haven’t spent a Christmas together. Since he celebrates Yuletide and not Christmas proper, it doesn’t matter whether I see him on the 25th or not. What I do know is that we as people are a spectrum. Maybe we’ll go for Chinese, maybe we’ll finally watch “The Pigeon Tunnel,” the Apple TV+ documentary based on interviews and John le Carré’s last book. I would have jumped on it the moment I saw it if I wasn’t so insistent about not cheating on him. Infidelity is one thing. This is couple TV. THERE ARE RULES. There are shows I still haven’t finished because I promised Dana I’d wait. It’s getting a bit ridiculous. Still can’t do it.

I have been asked to make a Christmas list and so far the only thing on it is a long-sleeved SAS t-shirt. I’d also like a Senators baseball cap because of the Duke Ellington concert in the spring, because even if I didn’t wear it, oh my God would it ever look good with Jason’s signature on the side. For my international readers, the Senators are the current hockey team in Ottawa, but the baseball team in DC was called the Senators when we first joined the league. Duke Ellington started selling peanuts when he was like, 11?

When Jason told me that he was going to do a Duke Ellington concert in The District, I told him that he was a brave, brave man. He laughed because he knew exactly what I meant. If you come for Ellington in his hometown crowd, you best not miss. Here’s what I know that you don’t. Jason is objectively better at piano than Ellington ever was. He can take Elllington’s ideas to a place that the composer himself couldn’t- another brain seeing different patterns. Ask me how I know that? He’s been doing it since he was 17 (probably younger, but I’ve known him since then), the Mozart of jazz, too many notes that boggle the mind.

I do not say this lightly. It probably sounds like I’m just part of the Houston jazz scene and trying to promote my boy. No. Jason is different. Jason goes to places I don’t like and I don’t know why and then I fall on my ass when I figure out the chord structure. It’s not that I didn’t like Jason, it’s that my mind wasn’t big enough to hold Jason yet. I had to grow into him. He’s an artist that is perfectly capable of giving you a beautiful haircut that you don’t like until you realize you were wrong. You thought it was a mess, and it makes your whole face.

The last time I saw Jason, I left the Kennedy Center and walked around for two hours trying to deconstruct that concert in my mind. Every time I came to a new metro stop, I decided I wasn’t done thinking about jazz yet. If you’ve never been to see Jason, I do not believe you have a grasp of modern jazz and where it’s going. I hope the concert is not too esoteric for Zac, but I don’t think it will be. I just think the difference is that when he looks at Jason, he sees the finished product. I see every iteration. Tall, skinny, quiet, softspoken when he does, can’t get used to the fact that he doesn’t wear a stocking cap every day. Can’t believe he and John Schutza aren’t a thing at lunch anymore.

Zac is going to become a bridge from my old life to my new one, and I think that’s a beautiful thing. I know Jason wouldn’t necessarily look for me at the concert, but what I do know is that he would be disappointed if I came to the concert and didn’t say anything. If I had my life to do over, I would have loved to be as serious a jazz musician as Jason. But, on the other hand, I did not have the ability of Konrad Johnson to “see where they were going and go with them.” I did not have Jason’s ability to see the rules of composition in such a way that he plays as if they aren’t there. No open fourths? Here’s seven in a row. Deal. Not a real example, but on brand.

Jason, like I am, is an unapologetic artist trying to get the audience to come to him, and he’s so good at his craft that he deserves to be a leader.

If there’s anything in my family that starts with me, it’s a love of music- the only special interest I had before intelligence because the first time I ever sang in front of an audience (congregation), I was three. Never in my lifetime did I think I’d get involved with it enough to understand what an open fourth might be, but here we are.

I know that when we talk about dishes, we’re often talking about the things put on the table. To me, sharing music with someone is every bit as important as a Christmas or Thanksgiving table. It’s where my mind goes now that I don’t have to cook for either holiday.

I also talk about music not to talk about what is going to be missing.

Also, here is a meme to express my feelings, one of my love languages:

I Actually Am a PhD

I am driven to create through writing stream-of-consciousness blog entries because it is showcasing the random order of my brain and entertaining people (even if only through schadenfreude). I haven’t been told that I’m worse writer than Brene Brown, Glennon Doyle, and Martha Beck- so I continue to believe that I am capable of writing on their level with an editor. Someone to collate my thoughts into a self-help book by taking out the filler and focusing on what matters. An editor is important because I do not want to be the one in charge of going through what I’ve already said and deciding whether it’s worthy of editing and publishing. I also think I’ve got a framework for at least three books woven into one based on past writings, but not enough hubris to say that they deserve more than they’ve been given…. which is readers on the day it was published.

When I’m in the middle of a problem, it runs continuously in my brain and I look at it from a million different ways. Therefore, I do not know which of my entries regarding any of my characters/subjects/plot points explain something the best. One runs into the other. It is a continuing monologue. I have been told I should publish a bound anthology, but I will not do it unless I’m approached because I do not want to take on the task of deciding which entries are essential and which are just fluff. That’s because sometimes my intuiition is off as to what will resonate with people and what won’t. An editor coming in blind would relieve my soul greatly.

The other thing that relieves my soul is that I don’t have to write a book to have something worth publishing. I already have 20 years of entries- 10 from this blog and the other 10 in the Wayback Machine. If nothing else, writing these entries has proved to me that I am capable of writing a book. That’s huge.

I have known that I could write a book since I was a child, but I didn’t have the confidence when the writing went so well and my research skills were so poor. I developed a doctorate in bullshit, because I could get an A on a paper by writing the whole thing as fast as I write a blog entry and just making up the books I used as sources; I knew the names of the publishing houses off the top of my head and wrote convincing titles. I didn’t do this in college because I did not have to manage my papers against six other academic subjects, choir, and marching band.

I am going back and picking up building blocks for my true self that I never had because I couldn’t see all the social masking I was doing for ADHD and autism. What I know now is that I am capable of taking in a firehose’s width in information all the time, but knowing what’s important and what’s not is a challenge. My brain uses an obnoxious yellow highlighter on every word, because I am making connections so fast that everything is important under the right circumstances.

I have started reading celebrity autobiographies recently, and not because I like stardom and pop culture. It’s that there’s no other genre that sounds more like me. First of all, they’re actors. I’m a writer. Creative process. Second of all, they’re just telling the story as they saw it. Making judgment calls about how others’ actions affected them. Being angry. Being remorseful. Being guilty. Being all of it and through the process of writing it down, letting it all go.

I started with Prince Harry, Kelly Ripa, and Lauren Graham. I’ve got “Worthy” by Jada Pinkett Smith on hold at the library. It’s helping me find a lightness in tone that doesn’t come across with spy fiction and non- except “The Unexpected Spy” by Tracy Walder- she’s a TV show and Ellen Pompeo noticed. By and large, people like Le Carré don’t put as much humor into their books as I’d like, but it’s ok. The jokes land harder when they don’t happen all that often.

My favorite line from “Homeland” is “Karachi….. After you stole the car.” My favorite show about intelligence is “American Dad,” and feel that if I was any character on TV, I can best be summed up by Roger Smith. Pretty sure I asked for Pecan Sandies. I am the type person that grows to love a subject through the criticism of it. As in, someone becoming more beautiful to you because of their flaws. Both shows are great at taking the piss while also being sensitive to the fact that intelligence officers are people. One of the reasons I loved “Argo” was the incredible humor while in the midst of a serious situation. Using humor as a reflex to deal with what’s hard. Masking to protect their real identities, feeling like frauds. Roger Smith is the only one that walks in the world unafraid of being caught. I want to walk like that, and I am trying to find the keys to be able to unlock that part of myself.

I like seeing people without their social masking because if they stop doing it, so will I. For me, it’s to cover a neurodivergent brain. For others, it’s just the secrets they’ve kept are now killing them. For neurodivergent writers, it’s both. You’ve kept the shame and guilt at not responding to others the same way they respond to you hidden because you know it’s all your fault. My brain is not different, it is damaged.

When people do not understand this, they treat me as intellectually inferior. When they do, it’s so much better… but there is only so much of a leap you can make between having empathy for a disorder and having a disorder. Those two types of people communicate completely differently, because that person has what they’ve read on their minds while the other has a lived experience. Having a disorder is exhausting when you feel like you have to prove you’re ill because you look fine. Autism is just a processing disorder, but the anxiety and depression stemming from it is caused mostly by the enormity of the difference between what we mean and what other people hear.

This entry was interrupted by my need to eat. I sauted some hot dogs in butter, then added eggs and ghost pepper cheese. Hot dogs aren’t my first choice, but I thought that’s all I had and in retrospect, lunch meat would have been better. All sausages, vegan and meat, taste better if you split them down the middle and let them confit. The butter will mix with the fat in the sausage and develop a sweet, firm crust. Thus why it’s called caramelization. I also tend to saute sausages whole and cut them up later, because it’s easy to obtain said crust when you don’t have more than two surfaces. Hot dog pieces are too small to make sure every piece touches metal and cooks evenly. The better the crust, the more expensive it will taste. Because butter has a lower threshold for heat, I’ll wait longer for the caramelization so I can keep using it. Even if I was using Pam or olive oil, I wouldn’t put the temp up much further. You don’t want to burn the crust while the inside is still warming up. Burgers cooked low and slow this way are pretty hard to beat, particularly vegan because the crust will taste familiar even if the sausage doesn’t. A good crust made ith butter will cover a lot of sins in a sausage’s ingredients….. particularly if all you can afford is franks from the Dollar Tree. For breakfast, I would choose low-sodium Spam before hot dogs because it’s sweeter, but the outcome is the same. Caramelized, crispy outside, soft texture inside. The thinner you cut it, the better it will taste because the butter and caramel will be the forward notes, skipping over the flavor in the Spam and making it taste like real food.

There should be an award for that.

Meat always tastes better to me cooked in its’ own fat and butter. This is why I don’t grill. Whether it’s a Beyond Burger and margarine or a beef burger and butter, the caramelization beats the fat dripping off onto the coals. I do like grilled meat, I just don’t prefer it. I also like turkey because you’re continually circulating the butter over the bird by basting it. Grilled and fried turkey is also very good, but I prefer a crispy skin with Cajun seasoning.

Also, people tend to have way less faith in the red button than they should. When it pops up, people kid themselves that they know better. What they don’t know is that when you take a turkey out of the oven, it continues cooking internally. The red button accounts for that time.

“Zip code. Fargo, North Dakota. Right now.”

I learned everything I know about turkeys from Joe Bethersonton, “King of Auto Sales” and the Butterball Hotline. When I realized that there were things I didn’t know about cooking a turkey, I credit that show for making me want to learn. Dana usually grilled our turkey outside, and it was great. I wanted to be good at the classic presentation, one reminiscent of Norman Rockwell.

These last few paragraphs are indicative of how my brain works. My superpower is being able to explain the things I do well as much as I do the things I do wrong. For instance, acknowledging that I am not at fault for every conflict I’ve ever had. I own part of the fault. That other people are not responsible for my reactions/responses, but they are responsible for knowing that they don’t come in a vacuum. That we have to talk about my behavior in the context of what triggered it, because without it we do not reach mutual empathy for the other’s position.

Thus, trying to find solutions to the ways in which I feel like a burden by focusing my talent on something productive. Getting to know myself certainly is, because by admtting my failures, I let go enough to move into the future. Otherwise, you are trapped by feelings of murkiness at unclear boundaries, unsure of how to proceed. Even worse when you establish boundaries and they run right over them due to the nature of their personalitites. It’s hard to deal with consequences when you know your ADHD is at fault- your disorder, not your personality. No one else can excuse your behavior, a “get out of jail free” card, but people might have more empathy for you if you’re honest rather than trying to hide the limitations in how your brain works. It helps other people cope in the way they phrase things to you so that conflict doesn’t pop up to begin with.

So many people do not establish boundaries at the beginning of a relationship, the most important time. That way, when you’re wrong it’s clear you’re wrong. There’s no way to argue about it, you apologize and move on. Difficult to do when the other person’s response is to shut down at a threat. It only keeps you out, it doesn’t help to resolve anything. People think they feel better by avoiding a problem when solving it is just harder than they thought and they give up. Understanding someone else’s perspective is so hard when you’re invested in the fact you’re right.

Nobody made you do anything, yet no one should make you do everything. We are built for friendship intimacy, eros, agape and philia, whether you’re monogamous and coccoon with one partner, shutting the rest of the world out, or whether you’re a social butterfly. But there is also a fine line between interdependence and codepence, which everyone should study. You cannot be emotionally intimate with just one person and expect all your needs to be met. You don’t have a sounding board with which to correct the story that you’re telling yourself. You have to have friends with whom to bitch about your spouse and a spouse to bitch with about your friends. But both parties have to know that you’re just going somewhere to vent, you’re not going somewhere to make an escape plan….. and it always will be if you don’t develop emotional bravery.

I haven’t had it lately. I’ve met some incredible friends and dropped off the face of the earth because I had to- I’ll get back in touch. I am just trying so hard to focus on my own mental health that it’s taking my ability to connect with others. I just don’t have the spoons. I am in the unenviable position as to having anxiety about going through all of this on top of social anxiety when I call people, a necessary evil when you’re dealing with health insurance companies, GPs, and specialists…. not to mention the government if my occupational therapy doesn’t reveal my gaps and fix them. It just feeds my anxiety that I’m incapable of living within a system that helps most people. I do not want to go the disability route in the slightest. I just don’t know where I am on the spectrum and I want to get it resolved. Why I can spill my thoughts like a pro and struggle with things that make you look like a dumbass in neurotypical eyes. I think that’s because neurodivergents are not managers unless they’re high-functioning ADHD. Enough executive function to deal with fires and not drop details in paperwork. I think that’s because younger people are diagnosed than me, have had years of training in how to cope. I have no idea how people just learn those things on the fly, and get horribly anxious when I struggle.

People with ADHD require inertia, hard to get started when you’re bipolar and anxious about everything. I don’t need to tap out, I need to tap in. I’m just discovering that the barriers to entry are great and I wish I could hide from it. Surely I’ll just get better by not leaving my house because a magic fairy will come and fix me.

Learning to deal with autism and ADHD is the grief that you’ll never get your moment. You are told your entire childhood that eventually things will all come together as you get experience and I have gotten none of that. I have developed a talent for bullshit that I only saw when I started getting real. Patterns emerged in my writing that I couldn’t see before, the reason my autism is beating out my ADHD on a consistent basis. Going out is too much stimulation, but my ADHD side makes it where staying home isn’t stimulating enough. So, I go out and want to come home nearly immediately because walking in the world seems like our entire society is blaring at me. It is through no fault of their own. It’s my sensory percepton issues. The world is loud even if you were born neurotypical, male, white, able-bodied, straight, and cis. With sensory perception issues, the fact that the tag on your t-shirt is scratching the back of your neck feels as important as anything the boss has handed down, because the stimulation of it is overwhelming and covers everything else.

“It’s just a tag.”

I don’t go anywhere in which I don’t feel armored to take on the world. Clothes that do’t irritate me, comfortable shoes, a hoodie to guard against being cold in the air conditioning or outside in the season for it (you need good gloves, socks, an insulating layer like a vest or thermal shirt, and shoes padded on the inside with good tread. More important than the quality of your coat- with all that, I can wear a hoodie. Uniqlo. Look into it.). In the winter, I like sweats and long underwear as opposed to jeans…. but an open cuff so that I don’t always have to wear sneakers with them…. and stirrup pants drove me crazy in the ’80s because of the elastic strap. I wore them anyway because I liked the feeling of my pants not sliding loose and they kept me warm. I like hiking sandals with socks, but the kind that look like tennis shoes so that only the color of your sock shows through. I like wearing them without socks, but it doesn’t look good with pants. The reason for this is that in the cold, water dries quickly from your shoe, but not from your socks. They get soggy and you’re finished. With hiking sandals, you dump out the water and your foot is warm again because of the rubber in your shoe heating back up. Sandals don’t have anywhere for water to absorb except the top straps…. and we have already mentioned that my toes are covered. I don’t understand those people, but William Sledd’s Summer Rant goes through my head when I see it. “If you see someone with a toe ring, I would just go up to them and say, ‘girl? What the fuck is on your toe?'” “The anklle bracelet…. the perfect accessory to a toe ring.” I think it came out over 10 years ago, and it makes me double over with laughter every single time.

Again, entertaining my audience through only storytelling, a stream of consciousness unmasking of what it’s like to live in a neurodivergent brain and the struggles in remaining positive around it. You don’t immediately realize it’s relentless. And then the struggle sets in. This is not a transitory state. This is the same hassle you’d feel if your cat got diabetes. You mean I’m going to have to give it shots for the rest of my natural life? You mean I’m going to have to teach housesitters how to do it? You mean I have to justify why I’m willing to take care of an animal with serious needs? It’s all too much because in this case, the cat is you and the last person you want to take care of in that way. Most people are focused on others to avoid the deep dive I do.

And it only helps them so much. Breaking free does not come without costs, but it does come with self-worth when you realize you do things extraordinarily well…. it’s just not the way in which everyone expects. I hope that one day I’m in the position to say that I don’t like the crowd and where it’s headed so that I’m grateful for this journey, but right now it’s too difficult and scary to say that.

I just know that I have a doctorate in bullshit, and now I’m learning all the reasons why…. not to avoid having responsibility, but to learn which ones I can manage.

Yours

What food would you say is your specialty?

When I love someone, I love their food. I make breakfast the best, in my estimation, because I spent so many hours bonding with Dana over our brunch program (chef and ex-wife for those just joining us)… but it wasn’t just that. We loved to cook together more than life itself, and breakfast was the thing that made her face light up. Breakfast food comes easily to me, because now I picture what Dana would do and how she would do it every morning of my life. This is not a bad thing. We’re not together anymore, but I decided to stop spending time with our negative memories a long time ago. I will talk about them to use them as an illustration, occasionally, but I would never talk shit about her just for sport. Our fights make us both worse characters, because our joy was so apparent. I am also not in love with her anymore, which I know is confusing…… and yet not, in my brain. I can write about her in  all the romantic terms I want because of the tense. It may sound like I’m in love with her, but not when you look at all the “used to” instead of what is happening in my life right now. Remembering someone fondly is easy. In your memory, they become the people who fucked you up, and it doesn’t matter because you’re at peace with the fact that you fucked them up, too. No one is 100% a victim…. or at least, that is the case most of the time. I am sure there are examples, but by and large everyone contributes. Just like when I cook.

Because breakfast food is my love language, I used to have dreams of cooking Supergrover breakfast, and I don’t mean that in a sultry “morning after” kind of way………….. anymore. 😉 I mean that I could have been the chef, directing everyone as to what to do. That’s my happy place. Lording over a kitchen in order to teach other people how to fend for themselves. I want to go into a kitchen where I am given that authority without the responsibility. For instance, everyone saying “you should do it because I’m not a chef.” That’s not helping me, that’s succumbing to fear. If you don’t teach other people to work with you, over time you’ll become the cook all the time. “You’re just so good.”

That’s what’s great about marrying a professional cook. They work on you from day one, and it’s better if you want them to do so. They are not going to be your personal chef. I, like her, started with the basics. An egg. Diced vegetables……… repeatedly. Respecting first contact with eggs and knowing when to flip them. Interestingly enough, learning to make an omelet is so storied as part of a cook’s education, but Dana never taught me and I was never in a restaurant where it was on the menu and had to get up to speed fast. I play around in my own kitchen, but I’ve never folded anything successfully…. and because of anything but effort. I can only get better so fast, because I can only feed myself so much. I can only store so much when I make it ahead of time. Getting good at pancakes and oatmeal took a week or so of doing multiple iterations every single day.

Breakfast is also the only time I bake. I do everything from a can or box, but still. My favorite are orange rolls. The bread is the same as a cinnamon roll, it’s just the at the icing has orange or orange juice in it. They’re pretty divine…… If I’m in a savory mood, though, scones are stupid easy and forgiving. You can throw anything into them and the dough will react like a pancake, adjusting so that the food doesn’t take a left turn at Albequerque when you used a teaspoon and a quarter of something because you didn’t measure it. Cooks, by and large, hate baking because they’re used to tweaking by hand. You can do that with dough and pancakes. You cannot do it with cakes. In general, dinner service and pastry are two different fiefdoms, and bakers’ personalities are more laid back because they’re not in the same pressure cooker that the brigade is. Of course, there are exceptions. But most restaurants don’t sell as much dessert as they do main courses, anyway. Most nights the restaurants I’ve worked in could have had only one person on pastry, because we didn’t need more than a pie’s worth of dessert all night. Dessert went out of fashion with Atkins and South Beach. For people who aren’t foodies, dessert has been passed over for more bacon.

Not that there’s anything wrong with that.

The only thing I don’t use much is chocolate. I mean, I’ll put chocolate in pancakes a lot of the time, but it’s just a flavor note. I don’t make chocolate pancakes with chocolate chips and chocolate sauce because I’m not a Death by Chocolate sort of chick. Black raspberry chip vs. New York Super Fudge Chunk.

Ice cream is the dessert that’s my specialty, but I don’t have an ice cream maker, so I haven’t done it since Tapalaya.

First, you take a bunch of bacon and cook it in a rondeau. Then, you strain the bacon and put it aside, making ice cream base in the pan loaded with bacon flavoring with the drippings from straining it and re-adding it to the base. But the bacon just makes it insane when I prefer plain sweet cream or Mexican vanilla. Mexican vanilla is the one place skim milk is a good application, because you can make an amazing ice milk with it. Ice milk, to me, tastes better without fat because you can tell a difference between it and ice cream.

I would rather have ice cream with 23% butter fat and just eat less of it.

Except on the nights when I’ve been too tired to cook and it was immediately available. I can save my cooking for the morning, when I have the most energy for it. Getting up early and eating breakfast sets the tone for how much energy I’m going to have later. If I just drink coffee because I’m too lazy to eat, I don’t have enough strength to mask and I recede inside myself rather than sounding like a put-out dickhead because I can’t cope with my environment and it’s not personal but it sure sounds like it. I take precautions not to be that guy. I can’t get by on a piece of toast. My body needs a load of energy early on. So, I need eggs at a minimum. Eggs with more butter than people usually add and probably peanut butter toast and some Greek yogurt (full fat). Vegan sausage patties if I have them, and I don’t care whether it’s Just Egg (plant based eggs) or actual chicken eggs. One doesn’t really taste that much different than the other when I add all my spices. I love Old Bay or simply salt, pepper, and garlic. Season eggs like you would season a chicken. For instance, Montreal Chicken Seasoning is really amazing in a scramble. So are Tony Chachere’s, Paul Prudhomme’s Chicken or Red Fish Magic, and Slap Ya Mama. SYM is Cajun spice like Tony Chachere’s with the heat turned up. It’s probably beyond most people’s comfort level, so use sparingly when cooking for white people.

Another breakfast favorite is extraordinarily thick Greek pudding with cinnamon and nothing else. It makes your brain *find* sweetness in the cinnamon rather than sugar. If I had an Instant Pot, I could learn to make my own and I would, because I like it thicker than most companies make it. Yogurt is particularly good with fruit like raisins, prunes, and dried cranberries, because if you add them and put it in the fridge, they’ll plump back up. Yogurt with plums sounds more legit, right? Raisins are good in ice cream base for the same reason, particularly rum raisin and putting the alcohol in the base at the end so that the alcohol doesn’t all cook out. The bite of alcohol stands up to the fat of ice cream base very well. It will also make you feel tipsy immediately. Tread carefully. It will hit you before you really know what you’re doing.

Two scoops would have done it.

That’s an old joke for three people.

I think I’ll wrap it up there, because I have so much to discuss that doesn’t have to do with food. But I’m going to go make some breakfast first.

A Mel of An Entry

Mel is a chef in England who loves my food posts, so I keep thinking of writing them, especially as the food entries climb to the top of the leaderboard. I got this writing prompt from a web page called “19 Creative Writing Prompts About Food for Kids.” This seems to be in my natural age bracket. I’m 46, but I identify as a nine-year-old, I just say “fuck” a lot more. 😉

Describe a trip to the supermarket. What kind of food do you find there? What would you buy? How much would you buy and why?

I follow the Michael Pollan rule at the grocery store. Don’t shop in the middle. Everything you need is on the outer rim. To add to that, the aisles are a trap of advertising the new and most convenient thing, but it’s not always food. As Pollan also says, “don’t eat anything your great grandparents wouldn’t recognize as food.” I also adhere to this last piece of advice: “Eat food. Not a lot. Mostly plants.”

I only eat meat when I go out because I don’t like preparing it at home. So, I will tell you what I think in terms of an omnivore’s diet, which for me is mostly vegan with all bets being off if I’m outside the house. I feel like I’m showing I take Pollan seriously. I do eat “mostly plants,” even when they taste like Italian sausage.

As an aside, one of the best meals I’ve ever had was ordering a Beyond Italian sausage on a bun in a restaurant, because in a restaurant they’ll drop them into the deep fryer. If you’re a vegan, buying a deep fryer is a lot of fun because there’s not a lot of saturated fat in the food, so you can afford to let loose on preparation. Deep fried sausage would taste good even if the sausage originally didn’t. You can cover up a lot of shit with fat, more if the protein is breaded. A good example would be that you may not like Beyond Beef or Impossible Burgers, but you’d have a foodgasm if I served vegan “chicken fried steak.” But people get touchy about that stuff. The idea is off-putting, so they won’t touch it. I’m never going to get people to try vegan food by telling them it’s good. We don’t have to talk about it. Just eat it. (oh, and even the most hardened vegan can relax about deep fried foods. The temperature is high enough to destroy ALL biologicals. This is not true of a flat top. Beef *will* get on your Impossible Burger at Burger King if you don’t tell them to microwave it instead……… but that little bit of beef fat is really fucking good.)

I’m also not the person that likes to fool people for fun.

I don’t categorize my diet at all. I’ll just tell you what I eat, because I’ve already told you the rules.

“Eat food. Not a lot. Mostly plants.”

I swear to you, this advice is better than you think it is. You are better off counting calories than counting fat grams and carbs. Just make sure you stay under 2,000 calories a day. You could have a healthy heart and eat a stick of butter that way. Fat in and of itself is not bad. Calories are simple math, don’t force them into calculus. You will naturally slim down by eating more plants because you won’t be eating all saturated fat and you can eat way more of things that have very few calories and plenty of vitamins. You’ll also stop craving so much sugar by eating fruit. It’s not that your body doesn’t crave sugar, it just needs complex carbohydrates and Hot Tamales won’t cut it (I am bad about taking my own advice. Hot Tamales are life.)

I cook with concepts, so I’d start with a couple of ideas.

When buying staples, you want to duplicate salts and sugars. For instance, a dish will taste better with soy sauce AND salt, or brown AND white sugar. It adds complexity, more notes in the chord. I also like to double up on fats, because olive oil can withstand higher temperatures and butter has a completely different flavor profile. You can go on baking your turkey with butter alone, but mine is better and I haven’t even tasted yours. 😉

A NOTE ABOUT STAPLES

You’re going to think laying out serious cash for staples is a mistake. Let me tell you why it’s not. Good salts, sugars, vinegars, and oils will obviously last a lot longer than the proteins you’re cooking with them. $200 spent on those things will last six months to a year depending on what you’re making, whereas you’re buying protein and veggies every week.

With expensive staples, you can afford to buy everything else on the cheap. Cooking isn’t down and dirty when I’m making a Filet Mignon. I’ve started with the best ingredient, so it’s automatically going to be worth three stars. Give me a meal that’s three stars when you started with chicken backs and necks. That’s when you’ll lose the audience because the idea of a desperately cheap ingredient that tastes bad is stuck in their minds when they think of peasant food. In my world, they don’t matter. I’m not here to impress you, I’m here to impress David Chang, who would know implicitly that I started with garbage and made him a feast. Because that’s how he cooks, and Bourdain before him.

Editor’s Note:

Here’s the dirty secret to peasant food.

Food is beholden to gentrification. If I made a flatiron for someone 30 years ago, it would have cost about the same as picking it out of the garbage. Rich white people found out what you could do with a flatiron, and now it’s an expensive steakhouse item and five to ten times what it used to cost before it was valuable to Karen and Chad. How did it get valuable so fast? There’s only two flatirons per cow.

If you’re going to make the next trend, peasant food also requires the best in spices. I would prefer to buy it all fresh, but I can’t find that and neither can you. I can always find basil, oregano, rosemary, mint, and cilantro. Harder to find more than that, but I do recommend buying them when you’re actually going to cook something within a few days, and just buy a small amount, otherwise, it will be as rotted as the salad you bought with the best of intentions.

In my own kitchen, whether it’s vegan or dairy, I like to have plain yogurt on hand. It is useful for everything breakfast and everything that needs an emergency dollop of sour cream, like putting too much ghost pepper sauce in your eggs. Also, yogurt is the best at cooling Indian dishes. You don’t have to make raita. Vindaloo is just as good with plain Greek yogurt.

Moving on, sauces are easy to make if you have containers to store them. They just won’t have preservatives in them, and there’s no shame in buying them because of it. I like Grey Poupon just as much as the next person. I also have never attempted ghost pepper wing sauce, but I eat a hell of a lot of it.

However, I’ll tell you how to make the sauces I use most frequently, even though I’ve explained some of them before. Fresh salad dressing is so much better, especially with fresh herbs. You just don’t need as much fresh vs. dry.

Top of my list is mayonnaise, but I hardly ever leave it plain. I could live on vegan Hellman’s for the rest of my life….. I make my own mayonnaise when I’m branching out into salad dressings or burger toppings…. pasta salad is also a hit around here.

You need a large bowl and whisk or a blender. I recommend a blender because mayonnaise is so much easier with both hands free.With a bowl and whisk, get ready for a workout because you’ll be holding the bottle above the eggs and whisking them simultaneously and it’s a bitch if you haven’t done it a thousand times with a chef watching to make sure it’s perfect.

You need three egg yolks, a bottle of good oil (canola, grapeseed, and avocado are all very good), and some acid. Lemon juice is classic, but other vinegars are just as good or better. I do white vinegar the most often because it tastes like the “tangy zip of Miracle Whip.” However, I have made creamy ginger salad dressing with lemon juice and sesame oil.

How thick or thin it is depends on ratio, but you can thin it out with a small amount of water (an excellent fix if you feel it start to break, and you will definitely feel it….. it’s like watching a bowl of spaghetti sauce balanced precariously on a table knowing you’re the klutzy five-year-old.)

The easiest way to get egg yolks (for me) is to crack all of them into a soup bowl and carefully pick up the yolks, placing them into the blender or mixing bowl. Please for the love of God do not tell me you have an egg separator. In cooking, your best allies are your hands. You can learn to separate eggs with a gadget, but you know implicitly when all the eggs whites have left your hand. Just don’t pick up more than one at a time. They’ll break, and you’ll have to start over.

Editor’s Note:

Always put a cutting board down if you’re going to crack eggs. Egg whites on your countertops are an invitation to food sickness. After you’ve cooked with eggs, it’s very important to scrub down all your surfaces, because egg whites are invisible. Also, much easier to use a cutting board if you dampen a tea towel and put it under. It will keep the board from moving as you chop if you’re working with plastic (or wooden and not as heavy as a butcher block). My recommendation for how to clean the kitchen no matter what is a few drops of Dawn in a bucket of warm water. It will strip the oils and biologicals off of anything, superior to something like 409 in my opinion because I’ve never worked in a kitchen where we used multipurpose cleaner instead of Dawn. If it bubbles too much, just wipe with a towel and use less soap next time. 😉

Once you get the eggs yolks in the mixing bowl/blender, add your acid- one tablespoon of whatever. Whether you’re mixing or using a blender, the acid will make the egg yolks turn white. In French, that’s called the sabayon stage, and it’s the signal you can start pouring in the oil.

I don’t have any set amount of oil to add, because I just add it until I have what I need. Three egg yolks, I’ve found, will support a large amount of oil. So, whether I’m making one meal or several, I just keep whisking until the gods whisper to stop.

At this point, you can add anything you want. I will always add a pinch of salt, but anything else is a no-go unless the mayonnaise is a compound, like, say, blue cheese dressing. Salad dressing is not fancy. It’s just mayonnaise with stuff in it. So, you can literally throw anything you want at mayonnaise and it will adjust. Throw in some garlic powder or roasted garlic, it’s an aioli. Ranch dressing is probably the most complicated on the list, and not because it’s technically more difficult. You have to shop for more herbs and spices (I also add fresh tarragon- it’s not for everyone, but I love it). For burgers, I just throw in a little ketchup and sweet relish. A good pesto sauce will rock your face with mayonnaise. You can make a killer blue cheese dressing by buying all the ingredients for ranch and just adding blue cheese crumbles to it. Either of these dressings taste much better after the flavors marry, so leaving it in the fridge overnight is advisable before you serve.

For dressings, I really like sesame oil. I’ve said it before, but I’ll say it again. Mixing it with any kind of vinegar or citrus is just amazing. Put your oil and acid in a jar with fresh herbs and shake. You’ll have to shake it every time you use it, but it will still taste better than anything you could buy.

Peasant food is also things like lunch meat. For instance, shaved ham that you bought at Dollar Tree can be transformed with eggs, jalapenos, and butter….. even better if you have nopales as well.

I can also cook the hell out of Spam.

The trick is to get it so thin it looks like it’s been shaved, but not quite. Then, respect first contact and put it on medium-low heat (a three on electric). Walk away. Don’t touch it. Call an adult. No, seriously. It will take about 10 minutes per side (I think…. I’d just look at it and decide if it had enough color on it rather than setting a timer. Instructions are for um…. civilians.) What you’re looking for with Spam is the same carmelization that you’d get on plain ham or bacon. It’s red, then brown, then black. I like cooking Spam until it turns the color of the caramel on a creme brulee. What you end up with is something that’s crispy and perfect on the outside, a little mealy inside. Perfect for breakfast or diced for a hell of a fried rice, though I’d also saute pineapple in butter and carmelize it before adding it.

(Mel, shut it. This is Hawaiian friend rice. ;))

The staples you can skimp on are things like rice and beans. The no-name is going to taste exactly the same as brand, including buying them raw in nondescript bags and preparing them yourself.

I would explain to you how to make rice, except that making rice over the stove is hard to me when rice cookers are as low as $14, the only specialty item I have in my kitchen because it also does grains like oatmeal, brown rice, millet, quinoa, etc. You can learn to make rice over the stove from someplace else. I have $14. Why spend time explaining something that will actively make you stop reading? 😉

I don’t use water when I make rice, though. I use vegetable stock. I also don’t generally make rice plain, so I keep lots of dried cherries, cranberries, nuts, and seeds around. This is also useful for breads and pancakes, so dried fruit and flax seeds are a minimum for me. I also have hemp hearts, chia seeds, cashews, walnuts, almonds, sesame seeds, and pumpkin seeds. Putting these things into bread/carbs gets me the protein I need in addition to Beyond sausage dropped in a deep fryer (praise to you, Lord Christ).

Let’s wrap up by talking about drink staples.

I will not buy skim anything.It is devoid of everything about milk that is good for you, including taste. Plus, if you are not putting full-fat milk in your coffee, you are allowing the acid to have free reign. Let the acid bind to fat and your stomach might have a fighting chance. I use soy milk since it’s the thickest of the plant milks, but only because I can get it shipped by the case from Amazon. If I was buying from the grocery store, I’d probably buy Ripple, which my dad will be pleased to find out is not, in fact, a 40. It’s milk derived from pea plants. I call it “Gregor Mendilk.” I like it in coffee because it’s a little sweeter, like lactose free.

Always buy decent coffee. It’s like a gift to future you. However, what many people don’t do is buy a pack of Folgers and mix the expensive coffee with it. I prefer a very, very dark roast, so you won’t notice the difference and you’ll only have to buy coffee once a month or two (the time savings alone make it worth it). I also recommend having a backup Folgers, because it will keep forever. You know what’s worse than having cheap coffee? Getting up at 0500 and realizing you don’t have any coffee.

I also buy Stash teabags in obnoxious quantities. I’m going to have to buy some loose leave at some point, because I think it would be cheaper than using two or three bags at a time in the Keurig. I use that much tea in the Keurig because what you lose with it is steeping time. If you are using a kettle and pot (microwave water and you are dead to me), I recommend steeping for a lot longer than the British do. I’ll leave my teabags in for 11 minutes if that’s what it takes. I want my tea to be as full-bodied as coffee, which generally means letting it sit longer.

My mind has just been wandering regarding food. Like, what is it I really know? What advice do I have to pass on?

I don’t. I am passing on everything I have ever learned. Just follow the rules.

Eat food. Not a lot. Mostly plants.

Writing a Letter, Part II

Dear Mel,

I thought you might enjoy a food post since you’re in “learning a new kitchen” hell right now. I hope you’ll think of me when it’s time for your shiftie. If you don’t get this, I completely understand. See you in three years.

Love,

Leslie

When I think of food, I think of Mel, because she has jumped on the bandwagon of telling me to write more about it.

Because I am not up on current trends, I pick her brain looking for inspiration. I ask her food questions, she sends me pictures of Bletchley Park. It’s an even exchange. This is because asking her questions about food gives her energy. Getting the pictures is just a bonus. I don’t remember what food we were talking about at last interaction, I just think of her in general, the chef who can tell me about food culture in England and yet we’re tracking together like white on rice due to Escoffier’s meticulous detail.

If you have worked in a professional kitchen, you are beholden to him. The entire system was made by him. That’s why Julia Child was a tough motherfucker, and my language skills aren’t good enough to tell you how much of an understatement it is when you go through a program like that while female now. She was the first.

Working for OSS in Technical Services carrying around highly classified information is way less dangerous, but she did that, too. The reality is that there’s probably more sexual harassment and rape in kitchens/culinary schools than there is at OSS. I could be wrong. Those things are everywhere. Men do not like competition, and when their words fail, their fists come out- with other men. There’s a special hell for smart women, because few men truly recognize female brilliance when they see it. They’re programmed to be annoyed.

This is not any less true in the kitchen. It’s harder for women to speak up in all fields, but the kitchen is its own kind of hell because when you’re working that closely, you can’t help but touch each other. Assault happens every day of your life if some guy decides you deserve it, and some guy will. It hasn’t happened to me in every job consistently, but it has happened to me in every job. Every male line cook who has ever stood next to me saw me as his assistant. Every goddamn one.

We were paid the same, we had the same rights and responsibilities, and every day Daddy Knows Best. Nothing changes, whether they’re shit or fantastic. Male line cooks won’t ask women for advice unless they’re so young we have a matronly vibe to us- because they know they’re both screwed and scared and they can’t talk to anyone else. Men will not ask women anything until they’re afraid they’re going to lose their jobs and they have no choice but to be vulnerable. To be vulnerable to another male line cook is deadly for all kinds of personal and professional reasons….. one of them being that they’ll start treating the vulnerable kid like they treat women. Sexual harassment is real for men at work, because the amount of towel snapping and ass grabbing is highly regulated….. amongst each other.

Food isn’t worth it if you’re female. It’s just not. Those misogynistic French bastards took the thing women had been doing for millions of years unsung and decided it was valid when they learned. Just one of the many things women regret teaching men because thinking that women are the way they are (intellectually more stumped yet emotionally intelligent to the prehistoric) has so often come from theft. I can’t even imagine the numbers on an intellectual property lawsuit covering all women everywhere.

I am not saying women should quit (go on strike, really). I am saying that if you are female, you pursue this job because you can’t fucking do anything else. This is your passion, your drive, your coffee, your cocaine….. when you are high as hell on adrenaline after a rush, it becomes as primal a thrill as can be had legally. You dream pars and food cost. You have no idea what to do with yourself before 5:00PM. Days off are a story they tell little kids. Your family is a distant memory.

You didn’t come here to win. You came here to own the whole fucking thing.

And that’s what I’m thinking about when I think about Mel taking on a new kitchen. She can handle herself just fine. But I hope she has a me on the line, because there comes a time in every young man’s life where he will not accept female authority and needs to be disabused of the notion. This is probably best done by a chef barking down. But when they don’t, there’s safety in numbers and laughter in revenge.

I hope it’s going well for her. At least well enough to get a “heard.”

What’s On Brand for Me

What brands do you associate with?

Sometimes I think about “if I were an influencer, what would I want to promote?” It’s just a fun thought exercise, but if I had enough power to get things done in the advertising industry, here’s the people I’d like to give me stuff for free because I’ve been singing their praises for years without them cutting me a check.

Bombas Socks

I got the recommendation from Pete Holmes and have never looked back. Just order 10 pairs and throw your other ones out. They’re just the best ever and I will buy them until I’m dead unless they do something lame like change them in any way at all ever. They are ADHD/Autism relief in a box.

American Giant Hoodies

The Original Hoodie is the only jacket you will ever need. It’s double weight, double stitched, and all the hardware is strong and comfortable. No rough edges and extraordinarily well made. If you have teenagers, you need to buy one for yourself and one for them or you’ll never see yours again. Can’t find it? Check your daughter’s closet.

Starbucks Coffee

I don’t like Starbucks because it’s the best. Far from it. I like Starbucks because I’m ADHD and it tastes the same all over the world. It tastes the same on Connecticut Ave. in downtown DC as it does at Charles de Gaulle airport in Paris. I checked. (CDG does have chocolate cereal milk lattes and I will die mad they don’t make them here.)

Nescafe

Talking about Paris reminded me that Starbucks was the best coffee I had while I was there. I think “French Roast” is a lie they tell little kids. My dad and I didn’t find a decent independent coffee shop or a Starbucks anywhere. The Starbucks was at the airport. So, I became absolutely reliant on the little packets of Nescafe the maids left for us at our hotel, which does not taste like American instant coffee at all. It was good. Therefore, I would pitch Nescafe all over the world because you can stuff packets in your suitcase in advance just in case you get somewhere and nothing is above Folgers with extra water. I know I will have a personal friend living in France or a French reader that will tell me I just went to the wrong coffee shop. Please, prove me wrong. That would be great. I need a place to go the next time I’m in Paris, and I want to live there for a few months so we can stretch out. I can already tell you that you can just show up at the Musee D’Orsay the first couple of days after I arrive. No worries I won’t be there. Vincent and I need some alone time. Maybe I can sneak some Nescafe into “our room.”

Chuy’s

No clothing brand represents me better when they’re on point. I think they have the best graphic designers in the business. I have several t-shirts and a hoodie that I wear constantly, except the one that says “Expecto Burrito.” I gave that one to Goodwill. Yes, I know Chuy’s is a restaurant, but their merchandise is very affordable and well made. I think my favorite Chuy’s shirt has the outline of the Chuy’s fish with Walter White hat and sunglasses. It says “Heisenchuy.” I also have a very cute kids’ t-shirt that’s a throwback to 80s Nintendo and says “Super Tex-Mex Brothers.” It’s perfect because I’ve worn it enough that now it actually looks retro instead of a current kids’ shirt. I also have one that’s still in production. It’s a Tattooine-type desert with a lone man and says something about “Juan Solo.”

Bourbon Moth

I love Jason Hibbs’ designs, and I would fill my whole house with his furniture if I could afford to commission Jason or buy the equipment to make it all. Having no idea how to construct anything, I think everything would turn out better if I just paid him. Jason is the kind of furniture maker that you want to entrust with your daughter’s first rocking chair when you find out she’s pregnant, or the crib she’s eventually going to need. You don’t just trust anyone with those projects, and he’s at the top of my list. Here’s how much I would trust Jason:

I would trust Jason’s vision if I lost a child, as well.

CIA/FBI/DNI/DIA/Pentagon/Branches of the Military,etc.

I’m putting the names of the agencies in here because I can’t find the name of the company that makes their swag. So, I know you can’t just walk into any of these gift shops, but you have options in terms of seeing if you know anyone. I say this because Zac has brought me several things from those shops and they’ve all been as well-made as my American Giant hoodie. None of the t-shirts have had tags, all the hardware is smooth, the workout clothes are double weight so you can run in he winter. I am sure that if I could find the name of the company, they make clothes without logos and I’d be there for those, too. It’s the difference between getting a jersey at Eastern Market (knockoff) and ordering it directly from the NFL. With my CIA baseball cap, I loved the logo, but I don’t wear it all the time to look like I’m pitching for USG. It’s so comfortable on my skin that I can’t take it off. ADHD Life, the struggle is real, etc I also walk a lot and “it’s beginning to look a lot like fuck this” becomes a refrain in my head when I don’t want to take the time to get fixed up; it won’t last. My baseball cap feels even more comfortable on those days. I don’t know how they would actually want me to support them, but I know I can’t not. My country is depending on me to want soft clothing, and who am I to stop them from providing it? Before CIA, I had a GAP hat that was just as comfortable and I wore it for 15 years straight. By the end it looked like I had old underwear on my head. I did not care. This hat has the same vibe and I’m looking forward.

Celestial Seasonings

When I say I switch to something innocuous like fruit punch when I’m not drinking caffeine, I really mean cold brew Red Zinger at obnoxious amounts. Obnoxious. I should buy stock.

Wendy’s

I don’t really care about their food. I want to work for them. I would have a riot in that writing room if I was on the social media team. Also, I have been repping their French fries and Frosties since I was a shorty (for the rest of the world, that’s American slang for a child. I am still short.). To me, theirs are the ones that taste best because they actually taste like they have real potato in them somewhere. They’re not as crispy, but they’re authentic. They’ll actually put a little more color on them for you if you ask nicely and wait patiently, just like at In-n-Out. I just think Wendy’s are better than In-n-Out because I prefer a thicker cut (more like they’d serve at a steakhouse).

McDonald’s

I want free smoothies and soft serve for life. I don’t know what I would do for such a favor, but I am willing to negotiate heavily. I know it won’t cost you much because the ice cream machine is always cleaning itself. Maybe not. I can drink the hell out of those smoothies. If you start making orange vanilla with the soft serve, you can just build me a house in the ball pit.

Chicago Cutlery

They’re some of my favorite knives because they fit my hand, whether it’s chef or santoku. They’re also cheap and hardly ever need sharpening. I choose to get mine sharpened over getting another one because even though it’s the same price or more expensive, your knife grows into your hand and vice versa. It’s like getting a fountain pen. Once you bend the nib to your handwriting, you cannot lend it out. That’s because the nib will bend to someone else, and it won’t go back to you. It’s the same in the kitchen, even for pastry chefs because their cuts need to be even more precise than the cooks who just throw things into a pan. Your knife becomes as close to you as a lover, why we often name our knives after women. It’s an extension of our bodies, where we cut to the beats of our hearts.

The Smell of Failure

Write about your most epic baking or cooking fail.

Anthony Bourdain hit rock bottom, and afterward he got a gig as a brunch cook. Therefore, in “Kitchen Confidential,” one of my favorite lines was that “hollandaise was the smell of failure.”

I believe that for entirely different reasons.

I had to clean the egg pans with lemon dish soap for a while at my own brunch gig. It ruined the taste of Hollandaise for me permanently. Not enough Old Bay in the world. Jesus could come back, bless it himself and I’d still be all like, “nahhhhh, fam….. you go ahead.” But I would have made him the best Hollandaise he’d ever had even if it was just the first. I can cook the things I don’t like, too. I’ve never done liver and onions in my own house, though my dad and stepmom have served me fois gras at theirs. It’s not that I can’t put up with the taste so much as the smell of it while it’s cooking. Smell is primal with me. Bad ones make me throw up at their memory. I know that I would have eventually learn to cope if I’d been a doctor, but I would have thrown up at a lot of things first and second year.

I will try something even if I don’t like it, so the fois gras had its excellent points, especially the raspberry jam against the perfect crispness of the liver. I just can’t get over the taste and smell of iron no matter whether it’s Luby’s or Le Pigeon.

It would be great if my greatest epic fail was throwing up into a stock pot and having to start something over because of the smell. It’d really tie the room together. But no. I was talking about how cooking informs the rest of your life before I get down to the nitty gritty. Plus, I’m ADHD, and every thought comes with bonus content.

I want you to know that I know what I’m talking about even when I’ve come across as a dumbass to chefs. I can describe it better than I can do it, just like Bourdain. He was a journeyman in the kitchen, a chef in the New York Times. His logical mind was in the kitchen while his heart poured onto the page, just like me….. unique on the page and mundane in my technique. But my creativity in writing comes across in new ideas rather than how many covers I cook for that night. I read recipe books like novels because I am not going to follow them. I’m going to look at spice combinations and see if it works in some dishes, or reference how to braise something because I can look at what part of a recipe matters and what doesn’t. What concepts will translate and what has to be specific. For instance, the instructions in how to get a medium rare on a steak with a cast iron skillet is useful in braising, period. You cannot take a Japanese palate and mix it with a Russian’s without studying its components and adjusting. For instance, I think Russians/Finns/Ukrainians et al would love salted licorice mixed with fruit, but at what ratio? I would imagine it would be a lot of fruit and a tiny bit of Aquavit and a whole lot of fruit.

In cooking, you have to know which flavor is going to be dominant ahead of time to save it when you’re cooking. I already know that peach works with licorice because I had a frozen drink called a Greekarita that fulfilled my life’s dream, the apex of mixology. And for the Russians, it was vodka. I do it because I love you despite your dickhead of a ruler. I am sure that during the Trump years, you thought the same about us. That’s how cooks dressed as spies can change the world. People telling others to stories who can actually do something if they’ll open up vs. the fear of getting caught and tortured. Very few people in Russia are that courageous, and those Russians absolutely saved our lives. I think about that a lot. I have the same relationship with the Russian people that I do with my chef. I’m friends with the other people on the brigade because even my worst enemies wouldn’t let me fail on purpose. We are not united in brotherhood all the time, but we’re united in trying to be the best at our jobs. It’s good we compete. You get better food.

The thing about “even your worst enemy won’t let you fail” is bullshit when someone actively wants to get rid of you. The bond comes from how you treat each other outside work. If someone fucks up and you can’t get over it to the point we can all have a beer later, it takes a lot to get that trust back. Getting on another cook’s shit list isn’t good because it spirals. They take a negative inventory and it affects how  they talk to the people who actually can hire and fire you. They prove your incompetence out of revenge, because the kitchen is a meritocracy and you let someoone fail. It’s not out of malice. It’s that you let them down. In some cases, you’ll never be able to save their ass in a way they can see it. That shit happens, and it’s not personal. It’s how people survive chefs like Ramsey. Even when he’s as angry as he pretends to be on TV, I have no doubt that he’s beloved because he’s not angry when he’s not  under pressure.

This is what leads to my most epic fail. We were busy and I had to work with the person that sexually harassed me and the owner of the restaurant, who had no cooking experience at all. She didn’t pick up that I was nervous because of the sexual harassment, and criticized me at every chance she got because she didn’t know shit about timing and would blame me for being slow on a ticket that came in 30 seconds ago and needed 10 minutes to cook. The sexual harassment guy and I got into a rhythm where he’d drop things into the fryer and I’d pick them up. Because the owner thought I was lazy anyway, the one time he didn’t was the last straw for her, even though she was the least experienced at being a cook and the most at being a horrible boss. She couldn’t keep a chef more than 15 minutes, contracted out the food, and still managed to tank that before closing the food side altogether. She didn’t know me, didn’t see me when I was on my game. She judged me on the one night she had to pitch in after not firing the person who sexually harassed me because we didn’t communicate something we’d been doing like clockwork and dropped the ball once.

No one made allowances for me on dish, either. I was called slow because I couldn’t lug 80 pounds of water up three flights of stairs without it taking longer because all of my muscles aren’t as strong as everyone else’s.

But that wasn’t my most epic cooking fail, and it’s a miracle no one got hurt. The person who sexually harassed me left a hotel pan of raw chicken on top of the freezer, and when asked, told management it was me. This is after telling me I’d be running my own kitchen within six months and how I could always be counted on and I’d do great things.

I didn’t realize the lovebomb/discard pattern because I didn’t realize that he was slowly moving all our shits together so that when we were both closing, he’d leave early and I’d be stuck cleaning for both of us. He thought he had that right even though he wasn’t my boss. The only way you get respect in the kitchen is to earn it, and he had no authority. I just took it because the lovebombing was complete. By the time he sexually harassed me, the betrayal hurt me the most.

I’ve made a lot of mistakes in my life, but never once have I put people’s safety in danger……. even when people say I did.

While it is true that I do not have the physical strength to be in a kitchen, it is also true that I have come into my own and wouldn’t think twice about ripping another cook a new asshole for focusing on me and not the mission. It’s not that women can’t be the best chefs in the world. We’ve been the chefs for all of history, yet unrecognized until men did it. Escoffier didn’t make anything at The Plaza that his mother didn’t teach him first. Le Guide Culinaire is based on personal experience. Your mother generally teachers you how to cook because your father’s not interested. This is slowly changing as society has made it cool to cook. We all love dad favorites like steak and French fries, we just do it in a cast iron skillet rather than grilling because steak tastes better from the crust that develops from confit, which means cooked in its own fat. When you grill, the fat drops into the coals. Steak tastes even better when you put a little bit of butter on that crust right before you serve it. Make sure the butter is melted because once the steak has had time to rest, it probably won’t make the butter melt naturally. I also like to add fresh herbs to the butter, like rosemary. If I only have dry, I don’t make it fancy. Salt, pepper, and garlic is all a steak really needs. Just make sure the salt and pepper are of good quality. I prefer Kosher salt and fresh ground pepper to the table version of either, though ground pepper is okay if it’s fresh.

If you accidentally oversalt the meat, you can fix it one of three ways. If it’s steak intended for fajitas, throw a margarita on it using fresh lime juice. The acid will neutralize the salt. With American, increase the herbs without more salt and add lemon juice. If lemon juice is not part of the palate, make a balsamic reduction by putting vinegar in a pan and letting it sit on low heat for like a year. No, seriously. Until it gets to “coat a spoon” stage. I put dried cherries and (also dried) mushrooms in mine and let them plump up. It takes about 45 minutes to an hour depending on volume. This is a sauce you can double and triple to save the syrup for later. Leaving out the mushrooms and making it really thick would be good on vanilla ice cream.

The day I reached for a spoon out of an egg pan and didn’t realize it was boiling hot wasn’t all that great, either. It fused to my hand and I had to just put some burn cream on it and keep going. My worst enemy wouldn’t have let me fail, and I didn’t have them in the kitchen. I had my wife. She could have empathy without coddling me and I knew we were both doing what we needed to cope. It led to some of my successes, including the biggest. I got my name on the menu for my chili.

Despite all my fails, if you like food you’re missing out on being my friend. It is your epic fail, not mine. 😉

Comfort

What are your favorite types of foods?

I want to tell you a secret.

When you become a professional cook, you stop cooking at home. You do not have the time or energy. There were nights when dinner was microwave popcorn over the sink, I was so tired. Just stuff a few handfuls in my mouth before I pass out. I also bought lots of junk food. We all do. Most cooks I know are absolutely obsessed with dino nuggets. Some of us even take the time to warm them up. 😉 My favorite is grocery store pizza, because it takes less time to put it in the oven than it does for delivery, and I can put whatever I want on it.

I want to tell you another secret.

Most, if not all professional cooks want you to invite them over for dinner just so they don’t have to cook it. We don’t care if it’s KD and ketchup. Just please, feed us without making us stand in front of the stove. We will help with dinner if you ask, but most cooks won’t go out of their way because they think it’s rude…. like we’re lording over a kitchen we don’t own. We’ve also been burned by people asking us to help out and then criticizing us as if we have no idea what we’re doing- or worse, something goes wrong and you’ll never live it down….. because professional cooks aren’t allowed to make mistakes, even among friends. We have to be arrogant on the line. There are too many people counting on us. But we cook the dishes in our restaurants over and over until they’re perfect.

You want something obscure, something that hasn’t been popular for 40 years, and we tell you that we’ll try. When it’s not impeccable, we can see the disappointment in your eyes, because you didn’t ask us to make something we’ve already made a thousand times and think it’s the same.

I liken it to handing someone a horn for the first time and asking them to play the third movement of the Hummel trumpet concerto four minutes later.

You’re expecting Carrnegie Hall when they don’t know a straight mute from a spit valve.

Let them have at least five more minutes……………..

Cooks rehearse like trumpet players, and are the same amount of obnoxious. I have been a trumpet player AND a cook, which means I have no problem being an absolute dick in the kitchen some of the time, because there are no seconds to spare. There aren’t even nanoseconds. Cooking is all about fear, surprise, ruthless efficiency and an almost fanatical devotion to the pope….. usually black, not cute red uniforms.

But make no mistake. The Spanish Inquisition is coming for you, and they generally look like waitstaff.

The thing is, though, you don’t go from read-through to full dress. You stage- pronounced stahj– which is basically “get your ass handed to you and if you survive, you might get the job.” These are all unpaid, though in most places they’ll either comp you a drink or make you something to eat (or both). In my stage at Denizen’s, the pub I worked for in Silver Spring, we did 300 covers that night. Just tickets on top of tickets and the entire kitchen was in full-tilt panic mode.

Rehearsal is actually during the performance, and if you fuck up anything, you just have to hope someone catches it before the food goes out. It’s your third day, not theirs.

It was a complete surprise to me that I got hired, but I did notice that I had improved considerably since my last gig. It really kept the imposter syndrome to a minimum. I had my share of shitty days, but I had to get this job. I wanted it more than anything else in the entire world. That’s because I had two reasons that gave me drive and passion for it.

The first is that I was married to a chef trained at a Cordon Bleu cooking school. she actually had her stripes. She paid $20,000 for her education, then gave me all of it for free. It is a gift I will never be able to repay, but the flip side of the coin is that I had to prove to myself that I was a cook, I wasn’t just riding her coattails.

The second is that my mother had just died, and I was a shell of a person. I was flat affect for months. I could barely take care of myself. Cooking brought me back to life. I had focus and drive on something besides earth-shattering grief. My mother was dead and yet the world kept turning as if nothing had happened, because if it did, I missed it. I was out of it during my own year of magical thinking. It took time, but I got my mojo back one hamburger at a time.

It is a gift I will never be able to repay.

In terms of the types of food I like to cook in the restaurant, I’ll tell you by station instead of dish. I like saute because it’s basically throwing prepped food into a pan, flipping it a few times, and pouring it onto a plate.

Editor’s Note: I like pantry the least because plating salads and desserts to look beautiful seems to require angle of convergence and depth perception, two things I was born without that make up 3D vision.

In terms of food I like to cook at home, I don’t. Home kitchens aren’t built like professional kitchens and when you get used to that much specialized equipment that cooking at home is a drag. I want a flat top and some scrapers, not whatever the fuck this is.

I want a gas stovetop, not electric. We can’t do that because the kitchen isn’t wired for it. I learned this because I asked Hayat for a gas stove after the fire, and I really like the electric one she bought. It’s just not the same because an electric range doesn’t let you refine the heat from the jump. I need to cook on an electric range a few times to learn the difference between three and four. On a gas range, I can just tell by how hi the flame is- consistent across brands.

If I am cooking at someone’s house for the first time, I sweat bullets because I am cooking on unfamiliar equipment with unfamiliar pans. You don’t think of this, but the thickness of pans varies, so you can’t always use the same amount of heat. At a restaurant, you don’t buy equipment piecemeal. All the saute pans are the same, all the rondeaus (wide thin pots) are the same, all the storage containers are the same. You don’t want anything to affect consistency.

The hardest part of getting an A team together in a restaurant is to make sure everyone makes everything to the same standard. If you’re on the B team (generally Sunday and Monday nights), you know why. You are not fit for Saturday night. You’re not even old enough to watch the show. Go sit in the corner.

If you start out on Mondays, when you get a Friday or a Saturday night it will feel like Ed McMahon showed up at your house with a big ass check.

The reason you need comfort food once you get off work is that all the food in the restaurant is so rich that sometimes you just want a sandwich.

In fact, it’s been 15 minutes since I wrote that last paragraph because I realized I hadn’t eaten dinner and it’s 0212. I had a cup of coffee way too late today, but it’s Sunday morning. I’m pretty sure I’ll still wake up at 0500, that’s automatic. But I’ll go back to sleep easily after I realize my entry is already done for today.

Instead of writing, I’ll roll out of bed and make my ultimate comfort food, breakfast. Yesterday I had scrambled eggs with pickled jalapenos, cheddar, and a dollop of plain yogurt. Nothing fancy except the difference between having made eggs every day of your life and making a hundred in three to five hours during every single brunch shift you’ve ever had.

That’s when dino nuggets taste best.

Writing a Letter

Mel told me that she looked forward to my food entries, and I told her that’s because I’m writing her a letter in every single one of them, because even from across the world, she can catch what I’m throwing. She is a chef, the level above me, which means that if I put down a steak, she’ll stand at the expo window and bitch at me even though she knows that a steak takes 13-18 minutes and the ticket was just put in 30 seconds ago please for the love of God make it stop make it stop…….. Kidding, of course I’m kidding. But in the ballet on the brigade, she’s an artistic director, caught between letting me play and impressing the owners before we do a new menu rollout that will hopefully have something I created on it.

So, since every food entry is a letter to her, here’s a real one.


Dear Mel,

I remember that summer is the worst. My first job was in Portland, Oregon where it is both hot and wet in August. There was no air conditioning in the kitchen, and we kept the back door open all the time. Our customers were so bold they’d try to go through there no matter how often we told them it was illegal, even more after they’d already been drinking. If a fight was going to happen at the pub, it was going to happen in front of us, because the back door faced the very tiny parking lot. I was always so glad I worked there, because it was a guaranteed parking spot if you showed up for your shift instead of trying to come in later just to hang. Of course it was my favorite bar. That’s where I actually got meals that someone I knew cooked and it wasn’t me. However, if I hadn’t been drinking, I could go back into the kitchen. If that was the case, every cook knew it.

I’d order something and I would hear a yell from the back…. even from my ex-wife, which made it funnier….. “LANAGAN! Come cook it yourself!” Busted. I figured out that ploy real quick. Clock out and go IMMEDIATELY to the bar and take a shot of something. Anything. Quick, they’re coming! I want a burger and I am not going to stand there in no air conditioning to get it. Do it yourself, Cat Cora.

That was the restaurant where I learned the most, because I was in the kitchen with people I trusted both as coworkers and guinea pigs. If I came up with an idea, Drew would improve it and so on.

When I was at the pub, I did brunch almost every weekend, where there I made pancakes the way you make them. Light, airy, except with a bit of hazelnut fluff. It’s the closest I’ll ever get to pastry, I assure you.

If you ever do come to DC, I have to take you to Milk Bar CCDC. It was a concept built by the woman who, I believe, is the best pastry chef in the world and if you have a chance, come study with her. She’s called Christina Tosi, and she’s one of David Chang’s best friends. Dave had already had success with momofuku, and gave Christina the money to start Milk Bar. Therefore, in both New York and City Center DC, they’re right next door to each other and Milk Bar supplies momofuku with desserts.

Their cereal milk soft serve is divine- not too sweet because it’s made from plain corn flakes.

I am certain that you can get Milk Bar delivered for cheaper than you can come here yourself, but nothing tastes better than a fresh ice cream cone, and I’m not sure they ship in in pints, anyway.

Milk Bar also makes some of the best cakes on record, but they also make a corn pie that’s the most popular thing they sell. To be honest, I’ve always been obsessed with the ice cream and cake aspect. I haven’t had time for pie. But I know Christina’s work well enough that I will shove anything she made into my face no questions asked.

I am less interested in being a pastry chef than knowing a pastry chef. 😉

The closest I’ve gotten to pastry is pantry, where I helped make ice cream bases (bacon, cafe au lait, banana putting, buttermilk [which was actually aciduated milk and froze up like cheesecake], creme brulee, and beignets. It was Cajun food, but a very French execution because my chef and sous were classically trained.

The one exception was the jambalaya, which was served as a risotto and so good it would make you cry. It makes me cry to think that the restaurant doesn’t exist anymore, because it was one of the most exciting times of my life.

One Monday night my coworker, Trina, and I got a comment card that only said “Hot. Lady. Chefs.” And of course you know now my life is complete. No additional compliments necessary for the rest of my life.

Cooking has also been an intro into meeting people I never thought I would meet, because powerful people don’t want to talk about power.

They want another pancake.

Maybe one of these days we’ll take over the world as line cook and pastry chef. Until then, we will have to settle for fantastic food conversations and reminiscing about “the life.” I hope you do get back in the kitchen eventually. I will live vicariously through you. I can even teach you how to flip shit.

I think your dishwasher’s about to quit.

Love,

Leslie

Live, Laugh, Love

What’s your favorite recipe?

Anyone who actually knows me knows two things. The first is that I don’t have any recipes, and the second is how much contempt I have for the phrase in the title because it is emotional shorthand for a whole mood…. the Karen special.

However, I do cook well. I can’t give you recipes, but I can tell you how I do things and you can cook like I do- I became a professional cook by tasting every step of the way. That’s why we don’t use measurements. We add until the gods have let us know that they are sated.

So much depends on what kind of technology I’m using. Cooking over a fire is different than gas and electric ovens/grills. You also cannot ignore the part of cooking that involves feel, because I get why we need to wear gloves. I believe others underestimate why it’s important not to wear them and just wash your hands constantly. A grilled steak or chicken breast will have a certain feel to it. Wearing gloves dampens our ability to detect it. Moreover, an open flame grill often made mine catch on fire and fuse to my skin. On an open flame, you really have no choice but to touch it because you cannot be certain that the heat is equal everywhere you place it.

To combat not trying to touch things, we risk presentation because we’ll have to cut something open to make sure it’s done in the middle. I do not want anyone to get served pork or chicken medium rare.

These are all of the things that run through a cook’s mind before we even start thinking about ingredients. You don’t buy the ingredients for the technology, you work with what you have.

I saute most things. I even prefer it to the microwave and toaster, because I would rather toast bread in the skillet with butter. I make a mean cheese toastie (grilled cheese). 😉

I start with lots of butter and herbs in a skillet on very low heat. Most of the time, it’s Montreal Chicken Seasoning or herbs de Provence. While that’s warming up, I butter some bread and add hot sauce, pico de gallo, or black pepper, along with two thick slices of cheese. I set the sandwich in the pan and it takes time. You don’t want the toast to be black and the cheese to be unmelted. Putting the lid on the pan for a few minutes during cooking will help the cheese melt with steam, but you don’t want to leave it on too long or the sandwich will be soggy. Low and slow is the name of the game. You can use softer cheeses to speed it up, like Gouda or Jack. You cannot increase the heat. You’ll know it’s time to flip when you see the edge of the bread turn the color toast you like. I prefer to get it very, very brown- almost black- because I think char stands up well to cheese.

To really up your game, make caramelized onions beforehand. Caramelized onions take a lot longer than you think. A lot. I don’t think I’ve ever achieved perfection in under 45 minutes. That’s because caramelization is a process. If you help it along too much, they’ll have charred edges and not done enough in the middle. You have to put more butter than you think you need into a pan with way more onions than you think you’ll need (just like 20 pounds of spinach is almost enough to feed one person after cooking it) and just leave it on low heat. Don’t stir it as much as you think you need to, because the caramelization happens when onion touches metal. Think about how often you’re interrupting that when you turn things over.

Touching the metal is what cooks mean when they say “respect first contact.” That means put it on the grill and step back. Do not adjust, do not do anything. The process of caramelization has already started and moving it will rip the crust that has begun to develop immediately. If you respect first contact, the caramelization process will have created a crust so thick that the meat will lift off the grill on its own….. same for pancakes. I know to flip mine when I can lift up the skillet and the pancake slides around independently. I still use a spatula to flip, though, because generally there’s so much hot butter that it would splash in my face. Besides, I like to make my pancakes really thick and it would ruin them to be flipped with that much violence. I save that kind of movement for foods that can take it, like eggs.

Eggs are there for you when no one else is. I swear it. You can add an egg to anything and instant meal.

Eggs are another food where it’s best to respect first contact, but hold the butter to a manageable level. You want enough to coat the pan, but not enough to splash in your face if you’re trying to be me, the home version.

You can flip an egg in any frying pan, but I find that the smaller ones are easier. Not the ones marked “egg pan.” Those are so tiny it’s like playing with Barbie cookware. I mean the smallest normal-sized frying pan because it feels balanced in my hand. If you’re 6’6 and 280, you’re going to have a different favorite. Choose the one you like based on how it feels to you.

When I say respect first contact, I mean that the same thing will happen with eggs that happen with meat and pancakes. They’ll stick to the metal and develop a crust, lifting independently. When you can move the egg in the pan on its own, it’s safe to flip. How long you leave it after it has flipped determines whether it is over easy, over medium, etc.

I find that flipping eggs is infinitely easier than trying to guess when sunny side up is ready. It helps to put the lid on the pan for those, too, because it ensures that the bottom and the top cook evenly.

With scrambled eggs, I tend to respect first contact and break them up very little. I also undercook them a tiny, tiny, tiny amount so that they remain cheesy in texture. Very important sidenote: eggs don’t need anything. They don’t get fluffier with water or milk. You can add volume, but the flavor will thin out to an enormous degree. I would go with a drip of cold water before I’d add milk, but I wouldn’t do either unless I was almost out of eggs and needed to make them stretch.

Cooking is all about learning how to make things stretch, and not even from a financial perspective. It’s also learning how to make use of what you’ve already bought, because you had a creative idea for something…. where you rise to the level is forgetting everything you know and just looking into the pantry.

I always keep pancake mix on hand, as well as cheese, bread, butter, pasta, and the occasional frozen pizza, with which I almost certainly will make double cheese and double jalapeno before I bake it.

Everything I make has a ton of calories for two reasons. The first is that I don’t eat often and I walk everywhere I go. The second is that my stomach needs some help if I’m going to go balls to the wall with Scoville every day in search of relief from hideous allergies. I pad my stomach with the butter and cheese no matter whether it’s dairy or plant-based. A not dog with vegan cream cheese and kim-chi hot enough to blow your head off is just as tasty as beef or pork franks.

Another thing I do is buy spring mix when it’s on sale so that I can do warm salads. My favorite is to saute spring mix, carrots, Brussels sprouts, and kale in a combination of olive and sesame oils. Sometimes I add nuts, seeds, dried fruit if there’s no added sugar, etc. When the veggies have cooked for a little while and I can tell the stems are getting soft, I hit the pan with rice wine vinegar and close the lid.

When the veggies are entirely wilted, I push them to the sides of the pan and crack two eggs in the middle.

It’s done when the yolks are just starting to get hard. I like them best when the texture is gelatinous, not runny.

The egg and the rice wine vinegar play off each other extraordinarily well.

But recognize that there are certain things at home you cannot do well and pay the people that do it. For instance, I have no shame in admitting that it would cost me hundreds to do rotisserie chicken the way I’d really like to do it, or I could just go to Don Pollo. I don’t have to buy their sides, I can just add their chicken to what I do know how to cook well at home…. or, at least, I would if I did that kind of thing. The last time I went to Don Pollo was years and years ago, and I still remember the taste of the black beans and pico because it was served cold, like Cowboy Caviar (Texas black-eyed pea relish). I loved it because they’d taken the time to dice the jalapenos, so they were perfectly deseeded and none of them were bitter.

The other thing they have at Don Pollo that I could not do at home is fried yucca. It’s delicious and I wouldn’t even attempt it because I don’t want to own a deep fryer. I want them to own a deep fryer. 😉

If we’re talking about my personal favorite foods, let’s play the chef’s game. You’re on death row. What’s your last meal? There are no stipulations to this game. The food can come from anywhere.

I would start with bone marrow and crostini, paired with a simple red table wine.

Next, a salad filled with vegetables. Please do not fool around with an iceberg wedge and some bleu cheese. Put your back into it. I want a bright yuzu vinegar with some cracked black pepper. Heritage tomatoes. Romaine. Real food and not restaurant filler.

If John Kinkaid was going to outlive me, he’d know that as my chef, my last meal would be his. He could surprise and delight me, but I already know what he would make.

It would be a vegetable jambalaya and a Purple Haze from Abita.

Because it’s the end of the night, and I’m about to clock out.

Assemble, Prepare, Adjust, Discard, Modify, Complete

My friend Emily is a teacher in Seoul, and we were talking about our lives. How everything about us makes us, well, us. We weren’t close in high school, but we both went through the same process (performing arts high school vs. “real high school”) and therefore both are driven to create. This entry is kind of “Your Blog Makes You Sound Like a Dick: Kitchen Edition, Part II,” but I decided that I didn’t need as much authority when I’m talking about being subservient for a purpose.

Creativity is a hard mistress. But that’s exactly what Emily wanted to know.

My head plays music when I cook, if this even makes sense. Not music I’ve heard, just tuneless sound that progress in order of mood depending on how the food is going. It makes me hum. I’m interested in what happens when you assemble, prepare, adjust, discard, modify, complete

It’s such a complete question that I had to think about it for a couple days before I was ready to address it. There’s an attack to cooking, and a laserlike focus. What there is not is room for error. Life comes in ticket times, the most important thing for every diner there. Whether you fold under the pressure or not is your own doing, completely. I respect a dishwasher that walks out during the first shift rather than thinking they can do a job and dragging everyone else down with them. It is why I left the kitchen to an enormous degree. I was making other people slower.

That doesn’t take away the burn, literally or figuratively. It’s an essential ingredient to creating a life in which you don’t want to escape. You don’t need drugs because you live them. The kitchen is a living, breathing organism from which there is no escape. My books have more in common with Jonna and Tony Mendez’s than they don’t. Both cooking and spying require a relentless focus without thinking of the outside world at all. To do so would be paralyzing.

People with ADHD do this better than most. Because we have no executive function, we hyperfocus on the thing at hand, a better coping mechanism for most in the race against the clock that being a cook requires. Nearly every kitchen employee I’ve ever met who decided to do it long term is because their brains and the kitchen’s rhythm fit together like a glove. People who can’t hack it should leave quickly, and often do.

Executing an idea is one thing. Prepping it for large scale is quite another. That’s because cooks play around until they like something without any recall as to how they did it to precise measurements. Did we throw in a teaspoon? Who the fuck knows? Eat it.

To prepare something for a large scale, you have to take the idea and retroactively fit it. My best example of this is hearing a pop song on the marching field. The marching band can play the melody, but it sounds off by a wide margin because everything the singer did to personalize it is gone, plus the rhythms try to mimic it and nobody has time for that.

Preparing a recipe in a restaurant is to make that dish a hundred times with different variations because you’re trying to get the best version of it on paper that you can, because you can’t really capture lightning twice. You can try, but it’s chasing the same high as everyone else.

Once a recipe is divided up, it goes into separate parts of the kitchen. A good for-instance is a steak salad. The salad is made by pantry, the steak is made by grill, and we meet in the middle. What I have come to call the ballet on the brigade.

Assembling is often more difficult than you think over a certain amount of time. By hour five you are not the same team that you were at hour two. You’re too exhausted to communicate and too behind not to try. Part of getting in the weeds is setting everything up perfectly so that if you get into the weeds, you can recover quickly. Being in the weeds is being 50 tickets deep and not panicking while expo and chef are breathing down your neck. There’s also a group project aspect, and I have caused mine to flunk. I have thought people have done things that they haven’t and paid for it, like assuming that another line cook was frying the chicken I needed, but they weren’t. We hadn’t made stations on boundaries clear. It always made me feel like the worst player in the game. I wasn’t, I was just bad at talking out loud. People would ask me what I was doing and I’d tell them and they’d tell me they didn’t need my excuses. For what? I am explaining what you asked me to explain.

The benefits outweigh the costs to an enormous degree. It ruins you for any other job quickly because going to the office feels like cutting off a limb when you’ve been on the A-team of a well-oiled machine. It is worth the arthritis and burns and cuts to feel like you actually did something that day. It’s the job you can’t wait to leave until you actually try to fit back into your old life. Maybe you can do it, maybe you can’t. Most ADHD people cook long enough to know that there’s a reason why they fit into a kitchen and they don’t fit into an office.

It costs an enormous amount to be a cook, because you’re just far enough above the poverty line not to get health insurance from your job and not poor enough to qualify for Medicaid. Therefore, you have to purchase your own insurance with no subsidy from anyone. Meanwhile, you always need a doctor for something. Most likely it’s arthritis and chronic pain. Sometimes wound care.

We work like doctors who stay over after their shifts because they can’t come down from the adrenaline of treating patients all night. If we’re not cooking, we want to be with other cooks in the restaurant, anyway. We’ll sit at the bar and talk to the bartenders, occasionally talking to a cook if they’re allowed to breathe at all.

Most of the time, they’re not.

There is a limited amount of time between one shift and the next. We have to look at what we’re selling and what we’re not, because we have to be able to plan forward with accuracy. We can’t make six orders of fried chicken if we only have enough for three because we didn’t think we’d sell that many. All restaurants have this problem. It’s a matter of degree.

The reason cooking requires such high intensity energy is that you start getting tired and you can’t stop. It’s great in the beginning. The first three hours are AMAZING. But when your shoulders are aching from being five foot two and flipping a full paella pan, you still have to keep moving for four more hours. People think about the hours we spend in the kitchen assembling, cooking, and serving. They vastly underestimate the number of hours of prep that go into every meal. That it takes a team of people on the line and in the back to keep up with demand. Prep cooks do not need to speak with as much authority as line cooks, because it’s not their ass on the line if something burns. They’re literally out of the heat. We prep everything that needs to be cooked, they prep everything that doesn’t. Line cooks don’t give orders, they give supervision. I have been the one that has chopped 20lbs of mushrooms into small dice and the person that watched over someone else to make sure they did it the way chef taught me. The thing most people do is call all cooks “chef.” This is irritating and incorrect. Chef means boss, and those motherfuckers will remind you of it constantly. It’s a meritocracy. You don’t argue with it, you decide toward running your own kitchen or you don’t. Every cook has their level. For me, I would be a horrible chef because of all the administrative paperwork and inventory. I have watched lots of people turn down chef and sous jobs for that very reason. We were made to be weird. Chefs were made to be “the man.” It is very much like being an executive director for an arts organization, because even though you’re enabling creatives, you still have to talk about money. There is nothing worse than working for owners that constantly disagree with your staff so that you’re constantly hung out to dry on personnel matters. You can’t always go back to the kitchen and tell the employees that their demands, once again, have been ignored. The owners who do this to chefs really do not care about turnover. Cooking is a small enough interest that if you fuck over a cook at one restaurant, they’ll never work for you again and they’ll tell all their friends. It will not go unnoticed.

It affects the art of completion to an enormous degree, because you cannot be the same restaurant if you have an A-team and keep submarining it. It’s a crime when you’ve got a great team and dismantle it because someone wants a dime raise or needs a day off. Most cooks don’t have the ambition to dream big because they’re only focused on improving the food.

They’re not asking you to give them the whole world. Just to help assemble, modify, and complete it….. and that other stuff Emily said.

Whatever It Is, It Isn’t Enough

What’s the most money you’ve ever spent on a meal? Was it worth it?

I am a cook, therefore I cannot afford to eat all the places I’d really like to go. Since my sister can afford to treat me, she does. But that’s not how I spend money on food and drinks. I lay out serious cash at the grocery store, because I can make food exciting by making a dish, then making a completely new dish out of the leftovers. I buy things at grocery stores that most people just think, “it’s too much work.” I will roll sushi at home. I will soak beans overnight so that I don’t need the convenience of cans. I will wash rice. I will do all the things it takes to be an awesome prep cook so that I’m comfortable on the line at home as a solo act.

The only thing I don’t do is buy meat at the grocery anymore. It’s fine if I’m eating out at a restaurant. I just don’t like wondering if it’s going to spoil, or the whole process it takes to thaw things without cooking them. I don’t want to leave chicken in the sink with water dripping down because my housemates will either get soap in it or try to clean it up. I have had them throw away things when I went upstairs to get my phone.

I think the most money bit comes from having the “keeping up appearances” marriage first. We ate a lot of money trying to be social with our ExxonMobil friends. We went to bars and restaurants that cost a lot, but we never really got anything substantial out of them. There’s only one thing I remember from that time in my life with clarity. It was a brewpub out in Fairfax that made banana clove beer. The combination of lightly sweet banana (not artificial) with Belgian spices made my palate sing. This was before I met Dana, before I went to her mini culinary school. The palate was there, I just wasn’t putting energy in to the right direction.

Meeting Dana brought a lot of things together. The above paragraph is why we would have had a lot of fun in DC together. The thing is, though, I had to get away from her to become a better person, and I hope she feels the same way about me- that we are both wonderful people, but we do not need to be together to know that. We’ve checked.

It would have seemed less weird to the outside world if we’d moved to DC together, but the plan was always to end up here eventually. It’s an adventure we wanted to go on together, and when we split, I still had fire in the belly to do it.

It made it look to the outside world that I was chasing a girl, and I did nothing to help myself out there, but I just didn’t care. It wasn’t worth the energy to figure out how to care about so many things that were beyond my control. Getting the girl in the end would have been nice, but it wasn’t necessary. She and DC are not synonymous in that if I’d suddenly taken off to a city I knew nothing about and the only thing other people knew is that she was there, I’d allow everyone to raise eyebrows at me. Clearly that’s insane.

But when you’re presented with a move that will solve every need including getting the girl? We’re getting somewhere. That’s because there was never any pressure on the relationship to succeed. Washington is big enough to hold both of us, even at full strength.

I stopped thinking about food a few paragraphs ago because I’m still reeling after getting an e-mail from Supergrover that I don’t know what to do with. I’m just spiraling out in my little neurodivergent head because she is bound and determined to wall off and let me know she thinks I’m not that great a writer because I paint my feelings as fact and everything is all about me.

This is my web site. I don’t project feelings onto other people unless they’re interacting with me and I am trying to explain it. No one else in her life has made any move to get to know me, so what they think is all her business and none of mine….. but it would be my business if I knew what she was talking about.

I am only an authority on me and what I perceive.

What I perceive is that prepackaged food holds no nutrition, and very few people are willing to create a dish without shortcuts.

Wash the rice. Soak the beans. Dice the mirepoix.

The most expensive ingredient in food and relationships is time.