Lemonade

Yesterday, the kitchen flooded. And then we had no water to cook with from late afternoon until close. Not on the first floor anyway. There was water downstairs and upstairs, so we used that to clean and cook with. We served dinner on paper and plastic plates and utensils. We improvised.

Today, my first clue should have been the lemons my boss gave me. I squeezed lemonade by hand as my first task, but nobody was thirsty for lemonade on a rainy Oregon day. And then, halfway through lunch, my helper had an emergency and had to leave. I didn't have dinner prepped out yet or anything done for Sunday lunch. Anyone who works in food will tell you Sunday lunch is our busiest meal. People get crazy after listening to sermons. I don't know why.

So, I made lemonade all day long. My boss wanted to call someone in. Instead, he worked alongside me. My friend staid an hour late to help, and I ended up leaving only half an hour late. I learned today that I am stronger than I think when it comes to the kitchen if I can just stay calm. I learned that I know my quantities better than I think, and I shouldn't let others question it. I also learned that I am starting to get the timing of this dance called cooking down. It was a bit off today, but I knew it and was able to fudge enough with my boss's help that none of the residents did.

Tomorrow is my Wednesday, and I hope it goes better. My Sous Chef always tells me, "If it were easy, everyone would do it." He's right. I have been complaining lately because it felt too easy. Now I know to just to wait a week. The challenge will come again without fail. It's just what you do with those lemons that determines how it all ends up. I want to try to make something delicious out of them.

Lemonade, anyone?

Loving wrong

I used to think there was no such thing. How could you love the wrong person? How could loving ever be wrong?

But over the years I have loved many a wrong person. They all had something I needed. One was tender, kind, and danced with me as I cooked. Another taught me just to be again, to talk about what I needed, and to not fear my desires and needs. Most recently, he was kind, generous, funny, a constant support to me. All have been in a different life stage than me, with different life goals and miles to go before we could meet at some equal point. And my heart breaks because I do love. But one day, it won't be me forcing anything, or hoping for change.

I am glad for each one. All were dear friends, all are missed. But I want to live now, and if that means going it alone and finding my own strength for now, it's ok. I am still open to love, I just want it to be right next time.

Hello, world. You don't scare me anymore. Nor does traveling through you alone because there are other beautiful people to meet and adventures to be had. May you know that you are loved and stronger than you think.

Your Girlfriend's Favorite Restaurant

I have been seeing these memes floating around Facebook about your girlfriend not knowing what she wants to eat, or her favorite restaurant being, "I don't care." As a woman who loves food and likes to eat, can I just say, I have a few thoughts here.

First of all, if I ever tell you I don't know or I don't care where we eat, it's because I am a cook. I think about food 24/7. I actually do dream about it. Sometimes, I don't want to have to decide yet again for the hungry populous what will be consumed. I just want to sit down with the people I love and relax.

Other times, I know what I don't want to eat. I will NEVER ask you to take me to Shari's, McDonald's, or ice cream. The first two are because I have a rule. I don't want to eat food that I can do a better job cooking than the final product I am served.The last is because I have 45 dietary restrictions, and lactose accounts for a large portion of them. The moral, friends, is to know the person you're with even if they are giving you the freedom to choose the establishment.

Finally, sometimes I just want someone to do something special for me. I want you to pick someplace we can enjoy together. It means I trust your judgement, and I would like you to pamper me, please. It means I don't always have to be in control. Take the compliment, ok?

Lastly, don't be surprised if I have five suggestions of where I would like to eat nine times out of ten. I am still a girl who loves food. Expecting me to say I don't know what I want to eat is setting yourself up for failure in my case. And please, never order for me. This chick likes to taste everything. That's why I became a cook in the first place.

Happy eating with your sweetie.

Surrender

My hands look older than they should. There's the scar on my right hand from dropping a knife on it while I was cleaning, a burn mark on my left from getting too close to hot metal as I was taking food out to the line, dry skin from the constant washing and sanitizing of my hands and the stainless steel world I am most at home in. My hands speak of the manuel labour that I love, the heat of the kitchen I can't get enough of.

The way I eat has changed too. I used to plan elaborate meals for every day of the week. Now, most of my money goes back into my beloved food industry. Or, I will eat cereal, popcorn, a sandwich, anything quick and easy because my feet are sore, my belly is growling, and I have poured all my creative energy into someone else's meal.

I am not upset about it. I love what I do. There are certain things I have surrendered to in this pursuit of this passion. But I think that is what love is. It's a giving over of one's self to something or someone and a willingness to let that surrender change and shape the self. Some of the ways we are transformed are our own choice. I could choose to plan meals and stick to them, but I don't generally. Other things, like the way my hands look, well, those are a gift love has bestowed upon me.

The question then becomes, am I willing to surrender to this person, this experience, this passion and allow it to change me, or is the price too high to pay? Each one of us is confronted with this question whenever we fall in love with anything in our life. For love to grow, it must be nurtured. And in that nurturing comes the surrender.

For me, being in love with feeding people has been frustrating, agonizing, painful, beautiful, gratifying, and worthwhile. There is meaning in it, even though the paycheck is small and the demands are huge. I wouldn't trade this for an easier path because I love it. I hope you feel the same about whatever you decide is worth surrendering to.

The day the pot holder died

I have been multi tasking this morning. Trying to clean a pan, I put some water in it and turned on the burner. I walked away to continue cleaning my bedroom. When I came back out, the wrong burner was on and my pot holder was on fire. Note to self, multi task with other kitchen projects. My house is still standing, and only my pride and pot holder were injured in the making of this blog.