It's so wonderfully pleasing to see that a Constitutional Law question:"Is 'A' Sacred Chow truly possible?," which was scrutinized during a Con Law discussion in law school; is in fact, now, a joyous reality!
As law students, we pondered: "How we, as gifted human beings & American citizens, could utilize our special nature to make less violence happen?" Well, we make less violence happen through our myriad daily deeds & actions.
I now can see -- that we, together, must first focus on ourselves; we need to make substantial progress on making less violence happen within our being: for a safer, more harmonious self; this then miraculously breeds a healing dynamic that brings the power of love & humanity to our big mama world. It is wondrously amazing! Let it be, and it shall be. Although, any degree, however manifested, is indeed: an act of G*D.
We live with an enormous amount of poverty, disease & stress that is purposely perpetrated by our planet's governments upon her citizens; which tragically works against our humane inclinations. Thus, violence, on many different levels, swallows our true sense of humanity; consequently, a life behind bars, and a prison industry beckons.
So: Is "A" Sacred Chow truly possible? Yes: I truly believe in "A" Sacred Chow, as do many, many others. Make less violence: Eat plant proteins!
And as gifted beings, we came here, to Mother Earth with our fellow beings, to find our common humanity, and to take the path that leads to less violence.
Together: You, me, "A" Sacred Chow, and the power of love & our humanity -- a conquering force. Oh, my sweet, precious Earthlings: Let it be, and it shall be.
Much love & peace, Cliff
7/11/11
Reclaim your bread!
I was ravenous the other day, and nothing was going to do the trick of satiating my roaring tummy like a piece of warm bread, dipped in a bit of olive oil, salt, garlic, and herbs. Unfortunately, there wasn't enough bread to feed me and the customers, and it's not fair for me to eat all the bread when there are so many other things here that I can eat, especially since I have access to plate, forks, knives, etc. and someone who needs a sandwich because they're on the go is better served with said bread. I was not to be deterred, however.
As we all know, bread stays fresh for just about the day that it's baked. After that, it becomes hard, and seemingly inedible. This is when you use that bread for breadcrumbs, crostini, croutons, etc. In fact, crostini, croutons, and breadcrumbs taste best only when made from day old bread.
Actually, let me clarify this, in case I get anyone angry at my previous statement. As we all know, good bread stays fresh for about the day it's baked. Horrible bread, filled with all kinds of chemicals, and stabilisers, and the taste of disappointment, will stay fresh for days and days. If you refrigerate horrible bread, it'll stay fresh for weeks. I'm serious. I had bought some really rank, awful sliced white bread from an unnamed major company. It stayed screaming fresh for like two weeks in my fridge. I was so creeped out that I quietly screamed inside as I saw my family eat the stuff.
Ever since working here at Chow, I've become a bit of a snob about baked goods, because I'm surrounded by only the best of the best. Bread should be baked earlier that day, and devoured as soon as humanly possible. It should grow hard within a day or so, at which point you use it for other applications, and use a fresh set of bread the next day. When you toast a piece of bread, a most heady aroma of wheat, yeast, and love should fill the air. It should be soft and puffy on the inside, and crispy on the outside. It should be poetry.
But none of this was going through my brain, as I searched for something to sate my appetite for bread.
Suddenly, it came to me. I used to read Heloise's Hints books as a kid. My mum got a bunch from a yard sale, or when someone was moving and left her all their books. If you haven't read her books, go find the older ones. They're fantastic, and bursting with ideas to make your life easier in the home. Anyway. I recall a trick she had to revive day-old bread. This is why I'm saying to read the old ones. The newer ones wouldn't address it, because how many people actually keep bread for only a day? I digress.
She said that you should take the bread, and wrap it in a damp towel overnight in the fridge. The next morning, you put it in the oven, and you have refreshed bread. I tried it, and was amazed at how well it worked! Mind you, it's fairly easy to tell when said trick has been used. The crust will be very crackly, instead of smooth and even. It's fine for if you're looking to dip bread in olive oil etc., but not so good for sandwiches, as the crust will form shrapnel that goes flying all over the place. Also, because the crust is so crackly after being revived, biting into a loaf with fillings will mean that the fillings will also end up all over the place.
At that moment, however, I wanted to eat the bread, and not make a sandwich from it. This was perfect. I was impatient, so I didn't bother to wrap the thing in a towel overnight. Instead, I sprinkled the surface of the bread with water, and made sure that the outside was slightly damp (not soaking wet). Bake it for about 12 - 20 minutes (depending on the size of the loaf) at 350 F (325 if it's a convection oven) until it's lightly toasted outside, and steamy and fluffy on the inside. A longer skinnier loaf will need less time than a fatter loaf.
Then, when it's done, go to town, and eat.
As we all know, bread stays fresh for just about the day that it's baked. After that, it becomes hard, and seemingly inedible. This is when you use that bread for breadcrumbs, crostini, croutons, etc. In fact, crostini, croutons, and breadcrumbs taste best only when made from day old bread.
Actually, let me clarify this, in case I get anyone angry at my previous statement. As we all know, good bread stays fresh for about the day it's baked. Horrible bread, filled with all kinds of chemicals, and stabilisers, and the taste of disappointment, will stay fresh for days and days. If you refrigerate horrible bread, it'll stay fresh for weeks. I'm serious. I had bought some really rank, awful sliced white bread from an unnamed major company. It stayed screaming fresh for like two weeks in my fridge. I was so creeped out that I quietly screamed inside as I saw my family eat the stuff.
Ever since working here at Chow, I've become a bit of a snob about baked goods, because I'm surrounded by only the best of the best. Bread should be baked earlier that day, and devoured as soon as humanly possible. It should grow hard within a day or so, at which point you use it for other applications, and use a fresh set of bread the next day. When you toast a piece of bread, a most heady aroma of wheat, yeast, and love should fill the air. It should be soft and puffy on the inside, and crispy on the outside. It should be poetry.
But none of this was going through my brain, as I searched for something to sate my appetite for bread.
Suddenly, it came to me. I used to read Heloise's Hints books as a kid. My mum got a bunch from a yard sale, or when someone was moving and left her all their books. If you haven't read her books, go find the older ones. They're fantastic, and bursting with ideas to make your life easier in the home. Anyway. I recall a trick she had to revive day-old bread. This is why I'm saying to read the old ones. The newer ones wouldn't address it, because how many people actually keep bread for only a day? I digress.
She said that you should take the bread, and wrap it in a damp towel overnight in the fridge. The next morning, you put it in the oven, and you have refreshed bread. I tried it, and was amazed at how well it worked! Mind you, it's fairly easy to tell when said trick has been used. The crust will be very crackly, instead of smooth and even. It's fine for if you're looking to dip bread in olive oil etc., but not so good for sandwiches, as the crust will form shrapnel that goes flying all over the place. Also, because the crust is so crackly after being revived, biting into a loaf with fillings will mean that the fillings will also end up all over the place.
At that moment, however, I wanted to eat the bread, and not make a sandwich from it. This was perfect. I was impatient, so I didn't bother to wrap the thing in a towel overnight. Instead, I sprinkled the surface of the bread with water, and made sure that the outside was slightly damp (not soaking wet). Bake it for about 12 - 20 minutes (depending on the size of the loaf) at 350 F (325 if it's a convection oven) until it's lightly toasted outside, and steamy and fluffy on the inside. A longer skinnier loaf will need less time than a fatter loaf.
Then, when it's done, go to town, and eat.
6/28/11
"When you open up your generosity to others, the universe finds way to bring it back."
There's a couple of stories for this post, so please bear with me if you don't care for the more rambly of stories. There's the story of how I got to Chow, and the story about the $6 hero special.
It was a viciously slumpy month for us, and we hadn't had many people coming in. Neither of us could figure it out. The food was good. The people working here were friendly and kind. The wait times to get said food was reasonable. So what gives? This is about the time that we started getting aggressive calls from the deals websites, where you would offer X amount of food for 1/2 the amount of cost.
What they don't tell you is that the business only sees about 1/2 of what you paid for that voucher. The site offering the promotion keeps the other half. It's essentially like a loan, but with even worse rates than the worst loan shark ever. You're selling food for half the amount that it's worth, and then only seeing half of that money that you sold the voucher for. However, when you're in a tight spot, you start to consider those things feasible.
I reached a point of frustration, and said, "What about the folk who come here every day? If we're willing to sell our food for a fraction of what it's worth, and consider it promotion budget (advertising budget), then why can't we just offer the savings directly to the customers?" "Good point", he said. So we hatched the $6 hero deal. You get just the sandwich (no cheese, no Chow Slaw, no pickle. Which also means that the packaging is slashed by 75%, because now you just need to pack the sandwich in a piece of parchment paper, some foil, and a paper bag if the customer wants. With the regular heroes, it's the slaw, placed into a ramekin with its lid, the pickle, wrapped in foil, a fork, because you need something to eat the slaw with, and then the bag to carry that whole shebang with you. Yipes!
At the end of the day, it was cheaper for us too. And it made it so that people got to try our awesome sandwiches. And it meant that we could give people exactly what they wanted. It also meant that during our historically slow times (between 12 and 2), we could get more people to come in. The response was spectacular. People loved the fact that they could get a Kosher, vegan, organic sandwich for the cost of a couple of cups of coffee at certain national branded coffee chain. What's even better is that if you really did want the pickle or the slaw, you could request the stuff and pay a little extra, at your option.
So Cliff said, "It's like when you open up to the world with generosity, the universe brings it back to you."
It inspired us to really take a look at our menu, and look at the things that have gone down in cost, things that are easier to have made, because now everyone knows how to do them, and where we could offer lower prices and keep the "extras" on the side. We went through and pulled back the cost of a couple of the tapas, decreased the cost of the hero (now $10 instead of $12, and the cheese is $2 extra; so many people didn't get the cheese that it didn't seem fair to charge them for something they didn't want). We also decreased the cost of some of the desserts (cupcake, pound cake, etc).
Again, it was about opening up our arms, and letting folk know that we're thinking about them. Since we started getting a better price for our organic sugar and flour, we could afford to cut back the cost of those two things.
So now, a sandwich costs $10 (normal price), and a cupcake is $2.75. For a little more than what you used to pay for just a sandwich, you get a sandwich /and/ a dessert. And so now, people are actually ordering them way more frequently than they ever have before.
Which kind of brings me back to how I started working here in the first place.
It was back in November of 2007, and Steve and I had just moved to New York city. He had a job at the time, and was pulling in decent money. I didn't have to work, but I didn't want to faff about the house, doing nothing at all. However, I did love to cook (always had) and had a few copies of my cookery book with me. My Steve had let me know that a friend of a friend was working for NYU SEAL (an animal rights club), and they needed help with cooking for about 50 people, on a $50 budget.
In Manhattan.
Also, nobody could afford to do it from a restaurant, because they didn't have that kind of money.
Also, they wanted it vegan, and local, and seasonal.
Also, they couldn't afford to pay me.
I wasn't bothered about the money. I just love a challenge like that. I let Ashleigh (this was the person in charge of the food) that not only could we feed everyone who came, but we could feed them rice, beans, salad, and a vegetable dish, along with some kind of apple crisp. Yes, for less than the $50.
She was thrilled, and offered to buy me lunch at my favourite restaurant: Sacred Chow. Every time I came up to New York, I would jump in a Taxi and ask to be taken to Sacred Chow for at least one meal there. And at the end of each meal, I'd get a sinner bar. When Ashleigh offered to take me there, I jumped at the chance, so that the two of us could meet in person, and chatter away at each other about the food.
Apparently, she could offer a kitchen in one of the dorms nearby. It was fairly ill-equipped, but we'd have a lot of helpers. Also, the helpers had plenty of heart. I realise that this all sounds like a bad movie script, but it all really did happen.
You see, when you grow up poor, one of the things that you realise early on is that you can't always offer money to a cause, even though you may feel strongly about its goals. So you offer your time, your talents, and your heart. My mother was very good at this. Every week, when the Hindu temple in South Florida was a house that the community bought together, and filled with an altar and the things needed for a temple, my mother would pile us all into the car hours before the services started, loaded with food (at least a rice dish, and sometimes a rice dish and a vegetable dish), and all the kids. We'd get there very early, clean everything up, make it look presentable, and set out the floor mats for the people to come in and sit on. Then, we'd leave hours after everything was done.
Whatever the other people did or didn't think of it, whether or not they gave her any credit for it, whether they were jerks (and they were) or decent humans (rare, if ever) about freely asking my mother (who had a budget about 1/10 of what most of them worked with) for food (seriously), my mother was there every sunday, with large amounts of food. Why? Because she knew how to take a few dollars, and make them feed lots of people. I share that talent.
Ashleigh and I chatted for at least a couple of hours, in the empty restaurant.
It was a viciously slumpy month for us, and we hadn't had many people coming in. Neither of us could figure it out. The food was good. The people working here were friendly and kind. The wait times to get said food was reasonable. So what gives? This is about the time that we started getting aggressive calls from the deals websites, where you would offer X amount of food for 1/2 the amount of cost.
What they don't tell you is that the business only sees about 1/2 of what you paid for that voucher. The site offering the promotion keeps the other half. It's essentially like a loan, but with even worse rates than the worst loan shark ever. You're selling food for half the amount that it's worth, and then only seeing half of that money that you sold the voucher for. However, when you're in a tight spot, you start to consider those things feasible.
I reached a point of frustration, and said, "What about the folk who come here every day? If we're willing to sell our food for a fraction of what it's worth, and consider it promotion budget (advertising budget), then why can't we just offer the savings directly to the customers?" "Good point", he said. So we hatched the $6 hero deal. You get just the sandwich (no cheese, no Chow Slaw, no pickle. Which also means that the packaging is slashed by 75%, because now you just need to pack the sandwich in a piece of parchment paper, some foil, and a paper bag if the customer wants. With the regular heroes, it's the slaw, placed into a ramekin with its lid, the pickle, wrapped in foil, a fork, because you need something to eat the slaw with, and then the bag to carry that whole shebang with you. Yipes!
At the end of the day, it was cheaper for us too. And it made it so that people got to try our awesome sandwiches. And it meant that we could give people exactly what they wanted. It also meant that during our historically slow times (between 12 and 2), we could get more people to come in. The response was spectacular. People loved the fact that they could get a Kosher, vegan, organic sandwich for the cost of a couple of cups of coffee at certain national branded coffee chain. What's even better is that if you really did want the pickle or the slaw, you could request the stuff and pay a little extra, at your option.
So Cliff said, "It's like when you open up to the world with generosity, the universe brings it back to you."
It inspired us to really take a look at our menu, and look at the things that have gone down in cost, things that are easier to have made, because now everyone knows how to do them, and where we could offer lower prices and keep the "extras" on the side. We went through and pulled back the cost of a couple of the tapas, decreased the cost of the hero (now $10 instead of $12, and the cheese is $2 extra; so many people didn't get the cheese that it didn't seem fair to charge them for something they didn't want). We also decreased the cost of some of the desserts (cupcake, pound cake, etc).
Again, it was about opening up our arms, and letting folk know that we're thinking about them. Since we started getting a better price for our organic sugar and flour, we could afford to cut back the cost of those two things.
So now, a sandwich costs $10 (normal price), and a cupcake is $2.75. For a little more than what you used to pay for just a sandwich, you get a sandwich /and/ a dessert. And so now, people are actually ordering them way more frequently than they ever have before.
Which kind of brings me back to how I started working here in the first place.
It was back in November of 2007, and Steve and I had just moved to New York city. He had a job at the time, and was pulling in decent money. I didn't have to work, but I didn't want to faff about the house, doing nothing at all. However, I did love to cook (always had) and had a few copies of my cookery book with me. My Steve had let me know that a friend of a friend was working for NYU SEAL (an animal rights club), and they needed help with cooking for about 50 people, on a $50 budget.
In Manhattan.
Also, nobody could afford to do it from a restaurant, because they didn't have that kind of money.
Also, they wanted it vegan, and local, and seasonal.
Also, they couldn't afford to pay me.
I wasn't bothered about the money. I just love a challenge like that. I let Ashleigh (this was the person in charge of the food) that not only could we feed everyone who came, but we could feed them rice, beans, salad, and a vegetable dish, along with some kind of apple crisp. Yes, for less than the $50.
She was thrilled, and offered to buy me lunch at my favourite restaurant: Sacred Chow. Every time I came up to New York, I would jump in a Taxi and ask to be taken to Sacred Chow for at least one meal there. And at the end of each meal, I'd get a sinner bar. When Ashleigh offered to take me there, I jumped at the chance, so that the two of us could meet in person, and chatter away at each other about the food.
Apparently, she could offer a kitchen in one of the dorms nearby. It was fairly ill-equipped, but we'd have a lot of helpers. Also, the helpers had plenty of heart. I realise that this all sounds like a bad movie script, but it all really did happen.
You see, when you grow up poor, one of the things that you realise early on is that you can't always offer money to a cause, even though you may feel strongly about its goals. So you offer your time, your talents, and your heart. My mother was very good at this. Every week, when the Hindu temple in South Florida was a house that the community bought together, and filled with an altar and the things needed for a temple, my mother would pile us all into the car hours before the services started, loaded with food (at least a rice dish, and sometimes a rice dish and a vegetable dish), and all the kids. We'd get there very early, clean everything up, make it look presentable, and set out the floor mats for the people to come in and sit on. Then, we'd leave hours after everything was done.
Whatever the other people did or didn't think of it, whether or not they gave her any credit for it, whether they were jerks (and they were) or decent humans (rare, if ever) about freely asking my mother (who had a budget about 1/10 of what most of them worked with) for food (seriously), my mother was there every sunday, with large amounts of food. Why? Because she knew how to take a few dollars, and make them feed lots of people. I share that talent.
Ashleigh and I chatted for at least a couple of hours, in the empty restaurant.
SLAM!
Someone had slammed the door to the basement.
STOMP. STOMP. STOMP.
"You guys should NOT be eating here. The owner is a HORRIBLE man, and exploits his workers." (Side note: turns out she was stealing. How charming, right? The boss is a lovely man, for the record.)
STOMP STOMP STOMP.
She reached the door. She walked out, and slammed the outside door.
The outside door that has one of those hydraulic things that keeps it from slamming.
Made impotent by the uncaring door, the girl kicked the door with all her might, and stormed off. Ashleigh and I looked at each other in stunned silence, and burst out laughing. The waitperson apologised profusely for that particular little scene, and we both let her know that it was too funny /not/ to laugh at.
At the end of the meal, I approached the waitperson, and said, "OK, so it looks like you'll need a new worker."
She asked me to drop off my resume the next day.
The rest, as they say, is history.
What I'm getting at is that I was at the right place at the right time. I was there, because through some weird unconnected events, I was giving of my time and talents to a cause I believed in. They didn't have much money, and had to feed many people on very little money. The food turned out fantastic. Everyone was very impressed that we managed it for such a small amount of money.
Fast forward to a year or two later. Ashleigh called me to place an order for catering from Chow for her SEAL organisation.
I met my darling husband, because I was sitting in a vegan chat room a few years back, and sharing my cooking techniques with people. They would say, "Dino, I've got ____, ____, and ___, and I'm hungry now. Can you tell me what to do with that?" And I would. I'd give them about five or six different options for the stuff they had around the house. Then they'd come back in 30 minutes, and rave about how the food was so good.
Later, when I needed a vegan wallet, and mentioned it in passing (because carrying the leather one was making me a little ill whenever I thought of where it came from), Steve piped up and let me know that he makes wallets, and that he'd be sending me one, for free, "... because you help so many people out in so many ways, and I'm happy to do this for you."
Five years later, that gesture of kindness turned into a marriage that's given me more love and happiness than I could have ever imagined possible. And now that it's legal for us to get married, we've booked the Judson church, where Steve proposed to me (again) on Pride Sunday to ask me to officially marry him.
I said yes.
6/27/11
"I don't care about the credit; I just want to be heard."
We had a customer who got a sandwich that she didn't like. Usually, in this situation, the waitperson would offer them a new one, offer to take it off the bill, or (in the case of delivery) send a new one to their house. Unfortunately, today was one of those particularly busy days, where there simply wasn't enough time to get out to her house to send a new one (she had ordered the sandwich to take with her).
She called up to let us know that the entire thing was just not to her satisfaction. The waitperson offered her a full refund. "I don't care about the credit; I want to talk to the chef. I just want to be heard."
How many times do we interact with people who just want to be heard? Often times, it's just being heard that will make a bad situation bearable. I was at an event a few years back where pretty much everything that could go wrong went so spectacularly wrong that the entire thing was ruined for me, and I vowed to myself never to darken their doors again. I wanted someone to listen to me rant and rave (this is before I had my blog, and you wonderful readers who are so lovely to listen to my rambling), so I called up the management. Since it was an event that my work was throwing, it's not like they could offer me a refund. Since the event was already over, and I was not in the mood to leave the house, they couldn't offer to fix it either.
I didn't care about the money. I just wanted to be heard.
The manager patiently let me vent my spleen, and apologised. She said that on the event day, pretty much all the staff that they count on (because, let's be honest: most places have like one or two people without whom disaster strikes) were out sick, and that things started going wrong one after another.
But all said and done, I felt like I got good customer service, because the person actively listened to my complaint, and let me know that it wasn't my fault, and that it would never happen again. At the end of the exchange, I felt better, and the manager knew that I wouldn't be spreading horrible things about her location.
I can't even count the number of times that it's happened with my family or my friends too. There are times when I'll have lunch with someone /solely/ because we're good listeners to each other, and it helps us to process our feelings, and get them out of our system. There are even times when Bossman and I chat to each other about various things going on in life.
It's not about the money; it's about being heard, and feeling that your thoughts are reaching someone who cares about what you have to say.
She called up to let us know that the entire thing was just not to her satisfaction. The waitperson offered her a full refund. "I don't care about the credit; I want to talk to the chef. I just want to be heard."
How many times do we interact with people who just want to be heard? Often times, it's just being heard that will make a bad situation bearable. I was at an event a few years back where pretty much everything that could go wrong went so spectacularly wrong that the entire thing was ruined for me, and I vowed to myself never to darken their doors again. I wanted someone to listen to me rant and rave (this is before I had my blog, and you wonderful readers who are so lovely to listen to my rambling), so I called up the management. Since it was an event that my work was throwing, it's not like they could offer me a refund. Since the event was already over, and I was not in the mood to leave the house, they couldn't offer to fix it either.
I didn't care about the money. I just wanted to be heard.
The manager patiently let me vent my spleen, and apologised. She said that on the event day, pretty much all the staff that they count on (because, let's be honest: most places have like one or two people without whom disaster strikes) were out sick, and that things started going wrong one after another.
But all said and done, I felt like I got good customer service, because the person actively listened to my complaint, and let me know that it wasn't my fault, and that it would never happen again. At the end of the exchange, I felt better, and the manager knew that I wouldn't be spreading horrible things about her location.
I can't even count the number of times that it's happened with my family or my friends too. There are times when I'll have lunch with someone /solely/ because we're good listeners to each other, and it helps us to process our feelings, and get them out of our system. There are even times when Bossman and I chat to each other about various things going on in life.
It's not about the money; it's about being heard, and feeling that your thoughts are reaching someone who cares about what you have to say.
When I ask you to listen to me and you start giving me advice, you have not done what I asked.
When I ask you to listen to me and you begin to tell me why I shouldn't feel that way, you are trampling on my feelings.
When I ask you to listen to me and you feel you have to do something to solve my problem, you have failed me, strange as that may seem.
Listen! All I ask is that you listen. Don't talk or do - just hear me.
Advice is cheap; 20 cents will get you both Dear Abby and Billy Graham in the same newspaper, and I can do for myself; I am not helpless. Maybe discouraged and faltering, but not helpless.
When you do something for me that I can and need to do for myself, you contribute to my fear and inadequacy. But when you accept as a simple fact that I feel what I feel, no matter how irrational, then I can stop trying to convince you and get about this business of understanding what's behind this irrational feeling.
And when that's clear, the answers are obvious and I don't need advice. Irrational feelings make sense when we understand what's behind them.
Perhaps that's why prayer works, sometimes, for some people - because G*d is mute, and he doesn't give advice or try to fix things. G*d just listens and lets you work it out for yourself.
So please listen, and just hear me.
And if you want to talk, wait a minute
for your turn - and I will listen to you.
6/25/11
Bursting w Gay Pride!
Mucho, mucho love 2 all u same-sex loving couples all over the world; & especially 2 those wondrous couples living in the Great State of N.Y.! Lovely joy: Freedom rings! Place the ring on his finger; take the vow 2 love her till death do u part: Perfect husbands; intelligent wives; delicious summer weddings! Happy Gay, Gay, Gay, Gay Pride! Sacred Chow is bursting w Gay Pride!
6/24/11
"It's not you, it's her."
So this morning, Bossman snapped at me over something trivial. Understandable, seeing as how he'd just finished off a fairly busy night, and had a bit of a rough morning, navigating the privations of Unnamed Party Superstore on 14th to buy cartloads of aluminium trays for a catering order that's coming up.
He's also been frustrated with a mutual (mutual to me and him, that is) acquaintance. She's been grating on him for the past couple of months, and early this morning, she kind of pushed the wrong button at the wrong time.
Add to that the fact that it's been steadily (and blessedly) raining. While the temperature has been absolutely lovely, it has been a twitch wet out. All these things end up adding up to a perfect storm of annoyance, which manifests itself in ways that are unintended.
A lesser man would have let it go at that point, and pretended it never happened.
Bossman, however, is not a lesser man.
A certain unnamed child whom we all know and love had an Incident at school, where the teacher humiliated him in front of the whole class (again, over something fairly trivial), and made said child cry. When confronted on it by Bossman, she responded politely, but curtly (which is completely out of character to the warm, kind woman she'd been all year), and pretended like she never did anything untoward.
This is what's typical of most people.
It's really close to the end of the day (or what I hope will be the end of the day; it's been a rather long one), and he said, "It's not you, Dino. It's her." I knew exactly what he was talking about, and then we both laughed and moved on. That's what's typical for Bossman.
I feel like as I live longer, I learn more and more. There's nothing wrong with admitting that you might have been in the wrong. In fact, sometimes, it just takes admitting it to immediately seal any unintentional (or intentional!) wounds. Why? Because so many of us are so scared of being wrong that we would rather lose the person than lose that iota of pride.
However, I must disagree. You don't lose pride, or face, or anything else when you admit to something. You gain dignity. You gain the gratitude of the person who felt the slings and arrows (small though they may have been). You gain the knowledge that at the end of the day you /were/ right.
You were right about being wrong.
When I left home, and struck out on my own in New York, I did it in such a way that left my mother with hurt feelings. "Why didn't you tell me, so I could help you?" Not "why didn't you tell me so I could stop you". It was a sticky time. Fortunately, I ceded to her, and said, "What's done is done, and I'm sorry for that. What can I do to make it right?" "Come visit me in Connecticut."
Done.
I took frequent visits up to my sister's house in CT, and enjoyed myself tremendously. My mother and I grew ever closer. She moved to Arizona a couple of years back, but we do still keep in touch. I don't want to even think of how badly it could have gone, had I insisted on being "right".
I chose to be with the person.
He's also been frustrated with a mutual (mutual to me and him, that is) acquaintance. She's been grating on him for the past couple of months, and early this morning, she kind of pushed the wrong button at the wrong time.
Add to that the fact that it's been steadily (and blessedly) raining. While the temperature has been absolutely lovely, it has been a twitch wet out. All these things end up adding up to a perfect storm of annoyance, which manifests itself in ways that are unintended.
A lesser man would have let it go at that point, and pretended it never happened.
Bossman, however, is not a lesser man.
A certain unnamed child whom we all know and love had an Incident at school, where the teacher humiliated him in front of the whole class (again, over something fairly trivial), and made said child cry. When confronted on it by Bossman, she responded politely, but curtly (which is completely out of character to the warm, kind woman she'd been all year), and pretended like she never did anything untoward.
This is what's typical of most people.
It's really close to the end of the day (or what I hope will be the end of the day; it's been a rather long one), and he said, "It's not you, Dino. It's her." I knew exactly what he was talking about, and then we both laughed and moved on. That's what's typical for Bossman.
I feel like as I live longer, I learn more and more. There's nothing wrong with admitting that you might have been in the wrong. In fact, sometimes, it just takes admitting it to immediately seal any unintentional (or intentional!) wounds. Why? Because so many of us are so scared of being wrong that we would rather lose the person than lose that iota of pride.
However, I must disagree. You don't lose pride, or face, or anything else when you admit to something. You gain dignity. You gain the gratitude of the person who felt the slings and arrows (small though they may have been). You gain the knowledge that at the end of the day you /were/ right.
You were right about being wrong.
When I left home, and struck out on my own in New York, I did it in such a way that left my mother with hurt feelings. "Why didn't you tell me, so I could help you?" Not "why didn't you tell me so I could stop you". It was a sticky time. Fortunately, I ceded to her, and said, "What's done is done, and I'm sorry for that. What can I do to make it right?" "Come visit me in Connecticut."
Done.
I took frequent visits up to my sister's house in CT, and enjoyed myself tremendously. My mother and I grew ever closer. She moved to Arizona a couple of years back, but we do still keep in touch. I don't want to even think of how badly it could have gone, had I insisted on being "right".
I chose to be with the person.
A warm blanket from G-D.
There r a few things that I am feeling terribly grateful for, at this particular moment, so I wanted 2 express 'em.
One: I love my son Huxley, truly, w all of my heart, soul & mind - every second of every day. The time that I spend w Hux is exquisite; so fresh & loving. Of all the special & exciting wonders, discovered & undiscovered, in our magnificent world: Hux is a wonder 2 behold - his face, his laugh, his humor, his intelligence, his chess game, his kindness, his wittiness, his easiness towards friends & strangers. There r the 7 wonders of the world; & then, there is Huxley, my 9 yr old son.
Two, but very close 2 One: Sacred Chow. Growing, maintaining, & sustaining sanity...building Sacred Chow in to a biz that can finally w/stand the ups & downs of a very turbulent market, is nothing short of a miracle. If anyone of you know the history, most folks would have written Chow's obituary and filed it away many years ago. My whole being was forced 2 walk sideways in darkness, along a very, very narrow mountain passage-way; my hands frantically trying 2 grab hold onto anything that felt secure; here & there, I'd stop, breath, & thank the greater powers 4 my resilience, but not my predicament. However, I didn't stop. And being able 2 dig out from what felt like a very deep grave, & 2 feel the sun & love life & others again, and, 2 have reverence 4 the universe - is nothing short of an act of G-D. I have gained more than I dreamed was possible. I now see, going thru torturous times & not giving up, even though most have written u off as mad - brings you 2 a place of peace, love, serenity, & freedom. Thank you, Universe! Thank you, Sacred Chow! Thank you, 2 the core of my inner-being 4 that secret tiny lock-box that we all store deep inside: Thank you 4 allowing ur vibrations 2 be heard above all those head-trippy surface psycho-social emotional big baggage ticket items, which seem larger than the Empire State Building. Above all, if u manage 2 move carefully on that mountainous path, and 2 listen 2 the angels gliding all around u, and if u can really see the vision, and u somehow know u will get there - despite the head-triply stuff: U will. And once u r there, u'll find a glorious, joyous, wondrous, stupendous, miraculous....u. Message: Don't give up!
Three but equal 2 One: My dear, wonderful, supportive in every way conceivable: Mom, Harriet Preefer-Reitman. And since I must wind down, and get my tookus (Yiddish 4 a persons ass) a movin' & a groovin' 2 the miracle on Sullivan Street, like right now: I must stop. But, I need 2 say, although my earlier times w my mom were fraught with tears & hate filled innuendos...every thing, every thing, every thing, all of life's ups & deep, deep downs, take us 2 where r supposed to go. It's all preparation. So hold on to the edge, walk very carefully, and most importantly: Hug ur mom! Let her know that she is truly one of those rare, special moms: A warm blanket from G-D. And tell her: Thank you, thank you, thank you MOM, I love u!
One: I love my son Huxley, truly, w all of my heart, soul & mind - every second of every day. The time that I spend w Hux is exquisite; so fresh & loving. Of all the special & exciting wonders, discovered & undiscovered, in our magnificent world: Hux is a wonder 2 behold - his face, his laugh, his humor, his intelligence, his chess game, his kindness, his wittiness, his easiness towards friends & strangers. There r the 7 wonders of the world; & then, there is Huxley, my 9 yr old son.
Two, but very close 2 One: Sacred Chow. Growing, maintaining, & sustaining sanity...building Sacred Chow in to a biz that can finally w/stand the ups & downs of a very turbulent market, is nothing short of a miracle. If anyone of you know the history, most folks would have written Chow's obituary and filed it away many years ago. My whole being was forced 2 walk sideways in darkness, along a very, very narrow mountain passage-way; my hands frantically trying 2 grab hold onto anything that felt secure; here & there, I'd stop, breath, & thank the greater powers 4 my resilience, but not my predicament. However, I didn't stop. And being able 2 dig out from what felt like a very deep grave, & 2 feel the sun & love life & others again, and, 2 have reverence 4 the universe - is nothing short of an act of G-D. I have gained more than I dreamed was possible. I now see, going thru torturous times & not giving up, even though most have written u off as mad - brings you 2 a place of peace, love, serenity, & freedom. Thank you, Universe! Thank you, Sacred Chow! Thank you, 2 the core of my inner-being 4 that secret tiny lock-box that we all store deep inside: Thank you 4 allowing ur vibrations 2 be heard above all those head-trippy surface psycho-social emotional big baggage ticket items, which seem larger than the Empire State Building. Above all, if u manage 2 move carefully on that mountainous path, and 2 listen 2 the angels gliding all around u, and if u can really see the vision, and u somehow know u will get there - despite the head-triply stuff: U will. And once u r there, u'll find a glorious, joyous, wondrous, stupendous, miraculous....u. Message: Don't give up!
Three but equal 2 One: My dear, wonderful, supportive in every way conceivable: Mom, Harriet Preefer-Reitman. And since I must wind down, and get my tookus (Yiddish 4 a persons ass) a movin' & a groovin' 2 the miracle on Sullivan Street, like right now: I must stop. But, I need 2 say, although my earlier times w my mom were fraught with tears & hate filled innuendos...every thing, every thing, every thing, all of life's ups & deep, deep downs, take us 2 where r supposed to go. It's all preparation. So hold on to the edge, walk very carefully, and most importantly: Hug ur mom! Let her know that she is truly one of those rare, special moms: A warm blanket from G-D. And tell her: Thank you, thank you, thank you MOM, I love u!
6/23/11
mAkE lEsS vIoLeNcE: eAt PlAnT pRoTeInS!
True, true, true...
2 eat and not feel blue:
The only thing I do,
is dream of love & u.
U, u, u: Only u, u, u.
Nite & day,
Every day,
U, u, u.
Think of peace,
Freedom, love & peace:
All the time,
& in time,
It'll change ur mind.
U'll know deep down,
w a focused plan -
U can stop slavery,
& the carnivore cans.
It starts w me, & then w u,
& then w them:
4 a brand new end.
Spend ur love,
On world out there,
Once u do,
Folks will love u too.
Dream of days,
Where all the kids r free,
Free 2 be,
Never hungry.
Send ur love,
2 the meany men,
2 the folks who hate,
Don't deliberate.
Let's find the ways,
2 make life free.
Do it now,
Eat the sacred chow.
2 eat and not feel blue:
The only thing I do,
is dream of love & u.
U, u, u: Only u, u, u.
Nite & day,
Every day,
U, u, u.
Think of peace,
Freedom, love & peace:
All the time,
& in time,
It'll change ur mind.
U'll know deep down,
w a focused plan -
U can stop slavery,
& the carnivore cans.
It starts w me, & then w u,
& then w them:
4 a brand new end.
Spend ur love,
On world out there,
Once u do,
Folks will love u too.
Dream of days,
Where all the kids r free,
Free 2 be,
Never hungry.
Send ur love,
2 the meany men,
2 the folks who hate,
Don't deliberate.
Let's find the ways,
2 make life free.
Do it now,
Eat the sacred chow.
6/21/11
... because you helped me clean up so much.
"So I was mad at you for a moment for leaving that mess, but then I wasn't anymore. Know why?"
"Why, Bossman?"
"Because you've helped me clean up so much in other ways."
We've got an odd working relationship. Odd in the sense that it's not normal.
The norm in most industries is to have one person take all the credit for the hard work of others. It's infrequent that you hear those celebrity chefs on TV, the CEOs of major corporations, the presidents of countries, or anyone else in positions of power actively try to give credit to all the invisible people who make life easy. My boss is odd in that respect: he does offer credit where credit is due. He tells me (and the others working here) that we make the place run, that our ideas are valued, that /we/ are valued.
There comes a point when you've got to give people their due props for doing the right thing. I do so with my husband, with my family, my friends, etc. How often do I do that with my boss? Not enough! I guess I need to (as we all do) really step back and recognise that we're not islands. People are social creatures, who depend on each other for various things. Aside from signing my pay cheque, my boss is also infinitely patient, kind, and passionate about his work. It means that I'm working with someone who genuinely enjoys my company, my contribution to the food here, and my opinions.
It's nice to be wanted.
Above and beyond that, he's got this space where people feel like they've got an embarrassment of riches. I can't count the number of times that someone will come in (with gluten, soy, or sugar allergies), and say, "I can really have all of THIS!? That's amazing!" Of course it's amazing. Every time we make something, it's with the thought of "how many people can we make this safe and delicious for?" "How many seats can we make at the table, so that everyone can come and share a meal?"
How can you help but to look forward to coming to work?
So maybe it is an odd dynamic. But in a world gone mad, who wants to be sane!?
"Why, Bossman?"
"Because you've helped me clean up so much in other ways."
We've got an odd working relationship. Odd in the sense that it's not normal.
The norm in most industries is to have one person take all the credit for the hard work of others. It's infrequent that you hear those celebrity chefs on TV, the CEOs of major corporations, the presidents of countries, or anyone else in positions of power actively try to give credit to all the invisible people who make life easy. My boss is odd in that respect: he does offer credit where credit is due. He tells me (and the others working here) that we make the place run, that our ideas are valued, that /we/ are valued.
There comes a point when you've got to give people their due props for doing the right thing. I do so with my husband, with my family, my friends, etc. How often do I do that with my boss? Not enough! I guess I need to (as we all do) really step back and recognise that we're not islands. People are social creatures, who depend on each other for various things. Aside from signing my pay cheque, my boss is also infinitely patient, kind, and passionate about his work. It means that I'm working with someone who genuinely enjoys my company, my contribution to the food here, and my opinions.
It's nice to be wanted.
Above and beyond that, he's got this space where people feel like they've got an embarrassment of riches. I can't count the number of times that someone will come in (with gluten, soy, or sugar allergies), and say, "I can really have all of THIS!? That's amazing!" Of course it's amazing. Every time we make something, it's with the thought of "how many people can we make this safe and delicious for?" "How many seats can we make at the table, so that everyone can come and share a meal?"
How can you help but to look forward to coming to work?
So maybe it is an odd dynamic. But in a world gone mad, who wants to be sane!?
6/20/11
Sweet Potato-Cassava Dill.
When I was a student in cooking school, our soups teacher wanted to see what her students had in them. When we arrived in class, there were vegetables, fruits and fresh herbs of every sort laid out on a few large working tables. She then entered, and said: " Class, today you are making soup from your head. Figure it out and begin, you have 45 minutes.
Today, at Sacred Chow, we had run out of soup, so I decided to make the soup from soups class. And since it's so interesting, delicious and simple to make: I wanted to share it here. And take note: No gluten, sugar or soy!
Also, I really love the soups name, its sing song polysyllabic sound & origins. The soups roots are African- South American- Caribbean; and it's song: Sweet Po ta to Cas sa va Dill, just makes me sing and smile. If I changed it to say, cassava w sweet potatoes & dill, or any other variation, it just wouldn't have the same rhythm & soul.
Sweet Potato-Cassava Dill
1/4 cup, olive oil
3 large peeled onions, chopped fine
3 1/2 lbs of sweet potatoes, peeled & chopped into medium cubes
3 1/2 lbs of cassava, hard ends chopped off, & its cylinder shape cut into smaller pieces, then peeled till the slight yellow film from the skin is removed & only the white of the cassava remains. Cut into small round cylinders, then cut in half length wise. In the middle will be a woody vein. Cut into smaller pieces, to avoid injury, and remove veins. Then cut into similar shape as sweet potato.
24 ounces, coconut cream
1/4 cup, nutritional yeast
3 tablespoon, sea salt
2 teaspoon, black pepper
1 teaspoon, nutmeg
1 gallon, boiled water
1 bunch dill, place in a bowl of warm water to remove any grit, swish back & forth, let sit so grit falls to bottom of bowl. Remove dill gently from bowl, so you don't disturb grit. Let water drip free. Remove stems, & mince.
Place soup pot onto heated stove, let pot sit on heat for 2-3 minutes.
Next, throw in a few pieces of the chopped onion, if they sizzle, throw In the rest.
Mix onions well w oil, & sear till onions soften.
Next, place the cassava & sweet potato into pot, mix well w onions.
Place next 5 ingredients in pot, mix well. Then slowly pour in water. Stir pot carefully, and cover for 45 minutes or so, till sweet potato & cassava are soft.
Taste to see if more salt or pepper is needed.
If it tastes wonderful, add dill, stir, & serve.
This soup also works well as a bisque. So it is perfect to place it in a blender or use a stick blender, & blend till creamy. For extra texture, boil some cassava separately, and add to bisque.
Serves 15-20.
Today, at Sacred Chow, we had run out of soup, so I decided to make the soup from soups class. And since it's so interesting, delicious and simple to make: I wanted to share it here. And take note: No gluten, sugar or soy!
Also, I really love the soups name, its sing song polysyllabic sound & origins. The soups roots are African- South American- Caribbean; and it's song: Sweet Po ta to Cas sa va Dill, just makes me sing and smile. If I changed it to say, cassava w sweet potatoes & dill, or any other variation, it just wouldn't have the same rhythm & soul.
Sweet Potato-Cassava Dill
1/4 cup, olive oil
3 large peeled onions, chopped fine
3 1/2 lbs of sweet potatoes, peeled & chopped into medium cubes
3 1/2 lbs of cassava, hard ends chopped off, & its cylinder shape cut into smaller pieces, then peeled till the slight yellow film from the skin is removed & only the white of the cassava remains. Cut into small round cylinders, then cut in half length wise. In the middle will be a woody vein. Cut into smaller pieces, to avoid injury, and remove veins. Then cut into similar shape as sweet potato.
24 ounces, coconut cream
1/4 cup, nutritional yeast
3 tablespoon, sea salt
2 teaspoon, black pepper
1 teaspoon, nutmeg
1 gallon, boiled water
1 bunch dill, place in a bowl of warm water to remove any grit, swish back & forth, let sit so grit falls to bottom of bowl. Remove dill gently from bowl, so you don't disturb grit. Let water drip free. Remove stems, & mince.
Place soup pot onto heated stove, let pot sit on heat for 2-3 minutes.
Next, throw in a few pieces of the chopped onion, if they sizzle, throw In the rest.
Mix onions well w oil, & sear till onions soften.
Next, place the cassava & sweet potato into pot, mix well w onions.
Place next 5 ingredients in pot, mix well. Then slowly pour in water. Stir pot carefully, and cover for 45 minutes or so, till sweet potato & cassava are soft.
Taste to see if more salt or pepper is needed.
If it tastes wonderful, add dill, stir, & serve.
This soup also works well as a bisque. So it is perfect to place it in a blender or use a stick blender, & blend till creamy. For extra texture, boil some cassava separately, and add to bisque.
Serves 15-20.
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