Culinary Adventures

Today, I begin with four heartfelt words – f*** you, Whole Foods.

To be fair, I mean that less towards the establishment itself and more towards the inevitable end result of my trips there.

Every time – every DAMN time – I walk into Whole Foods simply intending to buy, oh I don’t know… some apples and a carton of milk… I walk out many tens of dollars poorer, but with many pounds of organic-y goodness in tow. 

Today, for example, on my way back from the gym (took my first “cardio kickbox” class this morning, and consequently hate life very much), I strolled (hobbled) into Whole Foods with the aforementioned apples-and-milk grocery list in mind.

Aaaaand this is what I walked out with:

That big yellow thing on the right?  Spaghetti squash.
Stoked to try it.

Don’t look at me like that, it’s all health-tastic and I felt a range of good ingredients would help me refine my budding cooking abilities in this restaurant-free challenge.  

(I also bought an organic kitty, but he wouldn't pose
with the rest of the groceries.)

Incidentally, the restaurant-free challenge is four days in and going strong (much to my own surprise).  I mean, I haven’t done MUCH cooking yet other than my daily breakfast…

Scrambled eggs, baby spinach, grape tomatoes, avocado.
Occasionally wrapped in a tortilla if I'm feelin' carb-y.

I did, however, also made a contribution to my friends’ nascent club, currently identified as “Food Group,” in which each participating chef is given the monthly “mystery ingredient” – yeah, we’re all Iron Chef and s*** – and assigned a course in which they must utilize said ingredient.  This month’s ingredient of choice was vinegar.  I was assigned the hors d’oeuvres.  And while the rest of my very organized friends had their recipes planned out several days in advance, I, the eternal procrastinator, decided on my plan of action the morning of the dinner – spring rolls, with a rice vinegar-based sauce.  Minimal cooking.  Loves it.

The spring rolls were easy enough, other than those little douche spring roll wrappers being occasionally feisty.  The sauce looked simple enough as well, so off I went, boiling peppercorns in vinegar until it reduced and then adding some ketchup, just like the recipe told me.  I let it simmer.  I tasted it.  And my reaction was essentially this:

“Noah… Noah…??  NOAHHH!!!  THIS JUST TASTES LIKE KETCHUP!  NOAH!!!”

And so Noah, my lovely chef of a roommate, swooped in like a curly-haired Superman and saved the day with ginger and garlic.  Et voilá – delicious sauce. 

And then there was today’s dinner, which was actually rather miraculous.  Miracle number one was that I turned down going out to a restaurant. 

Actually, that’s a lie.  What happened was this:  boyfriend wanted to get dinner, to which I gave a shaky response of, “Ehhh wellll I kiiinda want to stick to this no restaurant thing, buuutt I also don’t want you to go hungry… so, we can go out.”

Why yes, that IS a blurry picture of me cooking.

Thankfully, he decided to brave my cooking.  What a nice guy.  Didn’t stop him from giving me nonstop crap during the process, of course.

Stew portion

So what I decided to attempt was a healthier version of a childhood favorite of mine – chicken and dumplings.  It used to be my #1 request for my gourmet chef of a father, up until just a few years ago.  It was… just… awesome.  Stew-y and gooey and delish.  Such fond memories of helping him make it.  And of course, of eating it.

Enter: dumplings.

Today's culinary adventure began, unsurprisingly, with half an hour of badgering Noah with yet more cooking questions.  But while he talked me through the beginning stages, I actually did the rest of it on my own – and I am delighted to say it did NOT crash and burn!  In fact, it was pretty solid.  I cooked it a little long so there wasn’t much actual stew left, and the dumplings were just a tad dry, but taste-wise it was pretty on point and overall I think it was a damn good first shot.  And it was Noah and Devin-approved, so… that’s a success in my book.

A little brown on the bottom,
but a lot delicious everywhere else.

Thanks for the inspiration, Dad.  I think you woulda liked this one.

Challenge Accepted

One of my favorite pastimes is reading article after article about healthy eating.

I subscribe to a newsletter entitled “Eat This, Not That.”  I frequent Prevention.com,  Shape.com, Womenshealthmag.com. I’ve read hundreds of accounts on the healthiest foods in the world, foods you should eat every day, breakfasts that flatten your belly.  Which foods will speed up metabolism, slow down aging, give you energy.  I read ‘em all.  I absorb the information.  I get inspired.  I vow that tomorrow I will take the first steps on the road to ultimate health food-ness.

And then tomorrow comes.  I wake up determined.  I roll up my sleeves… aaannnnddd never implement any of it.

Okay, that’s not an entirely fair assessment.  I’ve definitely tried to be better about making my meals at home healthy ones.  My grocery lists are always very wholesome, but I’ll keep up my determination for two days… then maybe one more lunch… and then by the following dinner… disaster.

All.  I want.  Is Thai food. 

Yeah.  I found a random picture of pad thai.
Don't tell me it doesn't look delicious.

Peanut sauce beckons to me.  What I wouldn’t give for just one drunken noodle.  My palate aches for subtle citrus and creamy coconut flavors of tom kha gai.  And Grubhub – that fiend, that little devil on my shoulder – makes it horrifyingly easy satisfy my cravings.  Why, Grubhub?  WHY?

So now, I feel it’s time to back away from the curry and embark on my first self-imposed challenge – ban the restaurant food.  Because Thai isn’t the only culprit.  In general, eating out is standard for socializing.  My roommates and I have an alarming weakness for wings.  My boyfriend and I order pizza all too regularly.  There are culinary dangers around every freakin’ corner, and what am I supposed to do, NOT eat them?? 

…Challenge accepted. 

No restaurant food for… I don’t know, what do you think?  Two weeks sound reasonable?

Not too hard, right?  But of course, here’s the truly challenging part about this – I work at a restaurant.  Two, in fact.  Which means a few things:

1)  I generally leave for work at 4:00 and get home anywhere between 10:00 and midnight.  Tough to get in a nice homemade dinner with those hours.

2)  I get to eat food at said restaurants at little or no cost, which makes my frugal side suddenly veeeery hungry, even if the rest of me is not.

To counteract all that, I guess what I’ll have to focus on – beyond healthy cooking for myself, of course – is timing meals / snacks appropriately and cost-effective grocery shopping.  Yes?  Yes.  Time to put my wealth of healthy-eating knowledge to use.  We shall see how I fare...

Cards on the table, I was going to start today, but after working all morning on an empty stomach I decided to get just a little something at the Bistro. 

So naturally, I had a giant bowl of linguini bolognese.  Like… GIANT.

Life Without A Meal Plan: The Sequel

Yes. I’ve decided to reopen the box of boundless goodies that is “Life Without A Meal Plan.”

I suppose I should have started a new blog with a new title, but I liked this one so much that I couldn’t bear to part with it. AND, while I’m now several years out of college, I still feel that the title is applicable… although Blog 2.0 intends to function with a little more focus. Not much more. Don’t get too excited. But after an unwieldy couple of years, I’m determined to just, ya know... focus. Point my life in the right direction.

Because the last year has indeed been a tad directionless. A little background, just for some context:

Just about this time a year ago, I was finally beginning to feel put together. I’d quit the Border Cafe (glory hallelujah) and gotten a job as a singing waitress on the Spirit of Boston, my mom and I had our jazz blog going strong and garnering interest, I had just gotten a job writing for a lifestyle blog, and, if all went according to plan, I was going to help write website copy for my dad’s burgeoning company. In January I headed to London, where I was to meet my dad and spend the week. I had a grand old time exploring the city, spending one-on-one time with my dad for the first time in years (in his favorite city in the world, no less), and getting to learn about this company that he was building. He was, in his own very understated way, bubbling with excitement about it, as it all seemed to be falling into place.

On January 28, we parted ways as he headed back to California and I took off to visit a friend in Kenya. I hugged him goodbye at Heathrow Airport, he told me to have fun and be careful, and off we went.

That was the last time I saw him. He died less than three weeks later.

To be clear - I don’t mean to sound dramatic and I’m certainly not trying to inspire sympathy. Just trying to explain why it was a rather rocky, disorienting 2011, and why now it’s time for a reboot. In many ways I think I handled the situation well, and in many ways I feel that I crashed and burned - to be expected, I suppose. In any case, the feeling of finally having my life put together promptly shattered, and I have spent the last many months trying to make everything fit again.

So, this incarnation of my ramblings intends to focus on how I attempt to accomplish this. I made a list (oh, how I love lists...) entitled “Things I Want to Work On / Challenges.” Not the pithiest title, but whatever. It included many of your classic New Year’s Resolutions such as exercise more regularly and eat healthier (classics for a reason), but I also threw in things like... oh, I don’t know... get a full-time job. Learn to quiet my anxiety. Read and write more, watch less TV. Listen to more jazz. Try yoga (and I hate yoga).

In terms of literal "challenges"... yet to be determined, but some preliminary thoughts are:

- A month of no restaurant food, no exceptions - learn to cook, damn it.

- Go unplugged for a week - no internet or TV. NO. STOP IT. You do not need to watch How I Met Your Mother in its entirety AGAIN.

- Read ___ books a month.

- A few weeks of pushing the bedtime and wake-up time back a few hours... starting the day at 8:00 am? Novel idea.

- Try every class at my gym (ugh, I'm sore just thinking about it... okay, maybe MOST classes at my gym).

- Experiment with what helps ease stress - yoga? Meditation? Better diet? Writing it all down in a blog for the world to see?

Essentially, doing things that will enhance my life - physically, emotionally, intellectually - and learning how to kick some bad habits. Seeing if immersion in these things for a week or a month will teach me that all of my "resolutions" are also doable in a long-term, less immersion-y way. And yes. I am aware that everyone and their mom is blogging about “healthy living” and “wellness” and yada yada. That, of course, turned me off to the idea at first. And then I remembered that one of my New Year’s Resolutions is to just say... F*** it. I DO WHAT I WANT.

Okay, fine. Honestly, I just wanted a project. And you're looking at it.

Revival?

Yeah. I know it’s been a while. I just did it to keep everyone hanging. You know, build the suspense. Throw a little tension into the blogosphere.

Actually, I was just following the rules of amateur blogging, which clearly state that at least one out of every three entries must occur after a 6-month hiatus, must include sincere apologies to all of said blog’s loyal fans, and must SWEAR to update more regularly from now on.

…Actually, I’ve just been super busy for the last 7-8 months. I’ve had three jobs and no life. Well, minimal life. To sum up: server at the Border Café (which continues), unpaid intern of sorts at a literary agency (which has ended), and I had a temp job at Pearson Publishing (which, being a temp job, has also obviously ended).

It was a lot to take on. I felt that I needed all three for different reasons and was therefore not willing to give any of them up… something that seems to tie into the whole “how to survive after college” point of this blog. While it was kind of tough to juggle it all, it swiftly became apparent to me that you HAVE to jump on opportunities when they come your way, whether it’s for a little extra cash or a little extra oomph in your resume. Jobs still ain’t easy to come by, and you gotta do whatcha gotta do – even if it means dealing with a whole lot of jobs at once.

Now, with that sage-like advice out of the way, let’s proceed to the more amusing notion of me as a server. My life involves a giant white chef’s coat (not the most figure-flattering uniform), salsa stains on my pants, margarita overflow dripping down my arms, and the constant stench of fajitas. And of course there are Harvard kids who seem to have forgotten how to do simple math, tourists who aren’t aware that tipping is customary, parents who are flabbergasted that we don't have a kids' menu ("You... you don't have hot dogs?") and, thankfully, an enormous staff of people that freaking ROCK.

I must admit, though… as a server, I’m fairly ridiculous. Competent, generally, but absurd. Whatever social awkwardness I possess in real life is amplified in the restaurant. Not always of course… uuuuusually I behave like a normally functioning human being. But, many times, I walk away from my tables, shaking my head and thinking… what the f*** was THAT?

Examples? Well, once, I imitated a catfish. Yeah. My table asked, “What’s a catfish? Is that the one with whiskers?” My reply? “Yeah yeah, it’s this one: [puts three fingers up to either side of my face, to create the illusion of the whiskers.]” They looked confused, and I walked away and smacked myself in the face.

Once I grabbed a guest’s hand, because I thought she was reaching out to grab mine. In fact, she was reaching for the check I had in my other hand. I tried to save the situation by making some half-hearted, equally awkward joke, but wound up just shoving the check into her hand and running away. That one stung.

Routinely, words get stuck in my head before they even come out, and instead of asking, “Would you like beans and rice or jambalaya?” I ask something that can best be translated into text as, “Wouldyouasjkfnajegjnkvubalaya…?”

So, perhaps being a server is not my calling. But it’s tiding me over for the time being, and I’ve found some awesome – and equally ridiculous – people to spend my days with.

But now, bedtime. I sincerely apologize to all my loyal fans for making them wait for this entry. I SWEAR I’ll update more regularly from now on!

This is what I think about when sitting three feet away from a bus bathroom?

So as I sat, curled up in the very back seat of an absolutely charming Greyhound Bus (…ew) with “Save a Horse, Ride a Cowboy – THE REEEMIIXXXXX” ringing in my ears (why? Because I miss Jon Short, of course), I found myself wondering if my weekend retreat to Wesleyan was relevant blog content.

Let’s ignore the “duh” moment here and jump straight into the fact that a crucial part of the post-college life – at least for those who were as attached to their schools as I was – is getting over college life. So I’m going to try to stay serious here without getting sappy. But… I make no promises. I mean, come on, you’re talking to the girl who, just a few days ago, teared up at a Kay Jewelers commercial. Yeah. That happened.

This weekend had everything that Wesleyan weekends, at least for me, should have – trips to Thai Gardens and Mikado, a show at the ’92 Theater, New Group rehearsal, house parties and bad beer, 4 AM forays to the falafel cart, ridiculous antics at all hours – it feels so normal until you remember that it’s not, anymore.

Six months out, I still miss Wesleyan and the people there every day, and I know I’m not alone in that sentiment. It was home, and I think I speak for most of our recent grads when I say that being away from Wesleyan in particular makes the inherent stress of moving to a new city, job-hunting, and creating a life from scratch all that much harder.

I started this blog to talk about the process of learning how to live in the real world and learning how to be a grown-up. I’m realizing that a huge part of that process is simply learning how to not be in college anymore. Figuring out what parts of the experience to hang on to and what to let go of. For me, the hardest thing has been the fact that Wesleyan was and is home to so many people who I love an incredible amount, who love me just as much, and all of whom, until 6 months ago, were within a few short blocks away at any given time. I guess college spoils you in that way.

Of course, I have many wonderful friends in Boston, too – my roommate Caitlin and my Wes friends in the area know me inside and out (heh… we’re talking metaphorically, here) and have been an amazing support system – and there are many more awesome people that I’m getting to know better every day. But I think it’s kind of inevitable (and I’m pretty sure I speak for many, many other recent grads) that until you fully establish yourself somewhere, and until you get used to not being constantly surrounded by people who know you super well, it’s just simply going to feel a little lonely.

As for all of us establishing ourselves in the real world… well, it ain’t easy, but it’s happening. The death grip my mind had on the concept of “Wesleyan is home” is loosening ever so slightly. Once you get a job or two that you like, once you’ve begun to understand the concept of living on a salary rather than points or Middletown Cash, once you start figuring out how to meet people – finding a sports team, hanging out with coworkers, joining a… oh, I don’t know, an a cappella group or something… *cough*… things start to seem more manageable.

…But enough of this sad faced-ness! Tomorrow morning, my dear friends, is my first legit shift at Border Café… no one staring intently over my shoulder prodding me to ask the right questions or making sure I don’t give a vegetarian a cheeseburger instead of her black bean tostada (they don’t like that).

Will she remember to bring the chips and salsa? Will she spill a margarita on a poor defenseless guest?? Will she swiftly become the youngest manager in Border Café HISTORY??! Tune in next time.

Frozen or on the rocks? Beans and rice or jambalaya? Grilled or blackened? Dizzy yet? I am.

With my head still spinning from my first real day on the restaurant floor, I return – frazzled, sore-footed, and ready to be making TIPS for this crap.

Okay, seriously though, it wasn’t too bad… I aced my Menu 1 Test (HOLLA! The guy grading it even asked if I had cheated, and quizzed me out loud on stuff to make sure. No, I did not cheat. I am JUST THAT GOOD, BITCH.) But then… I happened to be training with (by a popular vote that included Border Café employees and the regular customers) the craziest, most intense, speediest server in the wild wild east. Anyone who was in the restaurant during those 5 hours can attest to the fact that I was quite literally sprinting to keep up with this dude. Several mangers / coworkers offered to buy me a pair of roller skates, because my legs clearly were not long enough to get the job done.

As I have mentioned, I’ve never waitressed before. So I’m here to tell anyone else going into this business for the first time that this job is… um… hard. When I wasn’t reeling around a corner clinging to tabletops for dear life or praying that I didn’t eat it as I sprinted up and down the stairs carrying drinks and appetizers, I was answering questions like “So what did you forget that time? What should you have asked them when they ordered that? Do you know what you’re supposed to do now?” …as if I wasn’t already dizzy enough.

What am I supposed to do now? …Greet the customers. Bring them chips and salsa and ask for their drink orders. IDs if necessary. Bring them their drink orders and ask if they’re ready to order. Take their orders and ask the appropriate questions. Bring the necessary accoutrement for whatever appetizer or entrée they’ve chosen. Bring the food and ask if they need anything else. Check back in two minutes (or two bites! Whatever comes first) to see if they need anything… keep an eye out for drinks that need refilling, plates that need to be taken away, read their minds as to when they need their check, ask if they need a back massage to help them digest their food…. I usually forgot two or more of those steps.

Fortunately, the tables I served found my… what’s a nice word for “incompetence?” …The tables I served found my CONFUSION endearing rather than irritating, as they all knew I was the new kid on the floor. In fact, the customers were usually my biggest cheerleaders, and even though I got a lot of crap from my trainer, many of my tables were very up front in telling me that they liked me a lot. I even had one very nice British family actually send someone to find me so that they could tell me I’d done a good job.

I’m going to count that as a lucky break. Having worked in politics (and elsewhere… but mostly politics) I have long since learned that not everyone is, uh… easy to handle. And not everyone will be charmed by a cute smile and a “Sorry guys, I’m new!” So tonight, Friday night though it may be, is devoted to studying and making lists of everything I need to remember on the floor… because tomorrow, I’ll be handling the Saturday morning crowds solo. I mean… with a trainer over my shoulder, but still… ya know, mostly solo.

Remember when the hardest part of Halloween was what candy to eat first?

Celebrating Halloween used to be so easy. In the early years, it was just a matter of which cute cartoon character to dress up as and which houses to trick or treat at. And there was candy. Lots of candy. And it was good.

In college, it stayed pretty simple – the big decisions revolved around what witty pop culture reference to impersonate and what parties to make an appearance at. There were house parties, frat parties, dorm parties, dance parties. And it was good. AND you know what? I could WALK to everything. And walk home very easily if I so chose. There was none of this public transportation / cab business. If I didn’t want to walk down the street, I could take The Ride, but that was out of laziness, not necessity. Oh, and no overpriced drinks. That was a plus.

And now? Well, I don’t mean to sound like the Grinch Who Stole Halloween here, but it seems to me like the city version of this holiday might be more trouble than it’s worth. Next year I may stick to what I had originally intended for this year – staying in, drinking pumpkin beer and watching the Ghost Hunters marathon on the SciFi channel. As it was, I wound up wandering around the Boston bars, paying too much to get in and too much once inside, fighting my way through the drunk Clark Kents, dudes in gorilla suits, and sluttified Disney princesses (thanks for shedding a new, disturbing light on my childhood, by the way) and spending a good two hours walking back to Allston in the rain before finding a cab that wasn’t already full.

Also, a bunch of drunk jerks threw a huge traffic cone at Caitlin and me? But I mean, in their defense, what ELSE were they supposed to do with it? …..what the hell.

So, verdict on my first real-world Halloween: well, I learned my lesson. Next year, pajamas and scary movies it is. Sounds pretty awesome to me. Of course, I’m the party pooper that doesn’t really like Halloween anyway, so feel free to ignore my cynicism.

Also, update: got the aforementioned waitressing job. This oughta be interesting. Assuming I pass my menu and margarita tests (yes, those happen), I will be working at Border Café in Harvard Square within a few weeks. Tomorrow is my last day at The Campaign Network… so goodbye, politics. I wish you well.

Now bring on the tips, please.