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PATRIOT OR LOYALIST?

Perhaps the first lesson of etiquette that I learned as a young man, after put the napkin on my lap, or don’t cry over spilt milk was the proper use of the fork. I remember my mother, whom I sat directly across for the dinner table. Demonstrate the proper way to cut my meat. Fork in left hand, knife in right, pierce the meat with the fork and cut off a small bite with the knife. Then set the knife down, transfer the fork to your right hand and take a bit. Rinse well and repeat. (She did not say the last, it just seemed to fit in my head.)

 

Being the curious young toddler that I was I asked the inevitable: Why? Continue reading “PATRIOT OR LOYALIST?”

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TO EAT OR NOT TO EAT

“I’m hungry.”

“Yeah, me too.”

 

This seemingly innocuous phrase is repeated in some form or another in most every household one could think of, including mine. The difference in this case is that we are both food industry professionals who have spent long hours in the kitchen preparing and cooking food for an eight hour shift. So what does that mean? Well, it’s kind of crazy. Let me back up and start with an old saying about chefs and restaurants.

 

Never trust a skinny chef. Continue reading “TO EAT OR NOT TO EAT”

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SUNDAY, SUNDAY, SUNDAY

“Big Daddy” Don Garlits, Don “The Snake” Prudome, Shirley “Hot Rod” Muldowney. Come on down to the Fremont Raceway. Sunday, Sunday, Sunday.

Listening to my radio at night, as a young man, I would always laugh, then mimic the announcer whenever that announcement would come over the air. Sunday, Sunday, Sunday. Some of you may remember this, others might have enjoyed a slightly different version. It all comes down to the same chant. Sunday, Sunday, Sunday. While I never made it down to the Fremont Raceway to see the “Big Daddy” race, this announcement has become more than just a memory to me, it is a flipping Continue reading “SUNDAY, SUNDAY, SUNDAY”

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THE FRONT ROOM

When I was ten or eleven, my parents took my little sister and me to the Front Room for dinner. Our front room. The family, in our house, in the East Bay front room. We, my little sister and I, were told to go upstairs, clean up and put on the nice clothes that my mother had laid out for us. Then we were told to come downstairs at exactly 5:30 for “Fancy Dinner.” Wow, fancy dinner? I really did not know Continue reading “THE FRONT ROOM”

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MEXICAN? NOT SO MUCH

My mother was a lovely woman and she worked hard to make sure that we had something nutritious to eat every night. In addition to her tuna casserole, mac and cheese, spaghetti and goulash she would often serve us hungry wee-ones Tamale Pie. The recipe for this she found printed on the side of the Albers Corn meal box. Say it is not so? Well, just to prove my point here is the link Continue reading “MEXICAN? NOT SO MUCH”

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FRIEND AND PHO

Life is about experiences. Ones we enjoy in the present, then again in the remembering, and yet again in the sharing and the retelling. Years ago I volunteered for an organization called Rebuilding Together (RT), formerly known as Christmas in April. Every now and then we called it Christmas in June, or July or sometimes August. You see RT is an organization that, once a year, helps the elderly and those in need repair their homes so that they are safe and clean. Many times I have gone in to replace entire kitchens and bathrooms. Other times we would just Continue reading “FRIEND AND PHO”

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CRICKETS

CRICKETS

 

Last night I listened to crickets, at my home in Vallejo. I am not sure exactly when I first heard them playing their leg violins. I say leg violins, not leg cellos. Even though the sound they play is closer to that of a cello, leg violins sound better in my head. It was probably on vacation. My family, brother, sisters, mom and dad; would go camping every year. It was that way as long as I can remember. Camping to me is that faint kerosene smell Continue reading “CRICKETS”

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A COLD ONE

“How much is there?”

“A mountain of it, maybe 50, 60 cases.”

Many, many years ago I did the Renaissance Faire. We say we did the faire, not went to the faire, or worked at the faire. No, we DID the faire. We packed our cars for camping, put on crazy, sometimes super expensive costumes, and went dancing around in a forest. Think of it as your parent’s Burning Man, but just Continue reading “A COLD ONE”

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SUGAR TOOTH

While my father lamented the reprisal of tuna casserole on my birthday, he was in agreement with me on one thing: Chocolate cake for dessert. On occasion, my mother would try to make something from scratch. Chocolate cake was not this thing. A box mix where she added eggs and milk. Oh! She did have a secret ingredient. She would reduce Continue reading “SUGAR TOOTH”