I Couldn’t Think of a Name for This Post

My wife just asked, “Would you like a person like you?”  My reply:  “Of course not, who would?”

I’m fully aware how difficult I can be.

“I’m getting too old for this shit.”

One of my favorite spiritual hymns is We walk among the unbright.  I made that one up.

I was having a discussion recently with someone I admire about how time just keeps rolling along with no regard for anything but itself.  He seemed a bit melancholy about the fact that we cannot just enjoy a specific period of our lives that is satisfying.

I may have mentioned before, Time by Pink Floyd is my favorite song. One line “and then one day ten years have got behind you” sticks in my mind like poorly made demi glace on a cheap steak.

I know of a well-regarded chef in our area that always used powdered demi glace mix from Knorr, as well as a lot of other pre-made sauces, marinades, and convenience items.  Vendors, cooks, and restaurant people in general like to talk about who orders what.

If you need to save time with a pre-made product, find good ones that you couldn’t make better yourself. Find a good, all-butter puff pastry, a well-crafted veal stock reduction, or breads that come from a real bakery instead of a production facility.  It’s ok to use these items if you don’t have the right labor, the adequate equipment, or if time just does not allow for some of the time-consuming tasks that can be done outside your own kitchen.  But don’t be lazy. Make what you should.

I’m watching the National Championship game between Alabama and Clemson.  These kids are young.

I hate to sleep with my feet covered.  I have made it clear to Jennifer that when I die I need to be buried with bare feet.  She just threatened to have me buried with steel-toed boots and a wool scarf.  I hate scarves.

The folks that have not figured out the difference between your and you’re have brilliantly replaced both with ur. What a time-saver, learning is such time-suck anyhow.  Please tackle the their, there, and they’re problem next. America is waiting.

As I think about the remaining opportunities have left in my career, I am faced with the reality that my time as a chef is likely more than half over, and I don’t really think that I’ve used my time well. I have certainly squandered some good situations and have not always made the best use of my time. On the other hand, I have too often been hindered by restaurant owners and managers that either do not understand the business, or have too little desire, passion, or knowledge to be in the business.

Restaurants, please stop doing this. It has nothing to do with bruschetta. This is from a local restaurant:
Bruschetta Chicken – 25
Seared chicken breast, light tomato broth, fresh basil, tomatoes, balsamic drizzle,
Asiago cheese, Parmesan polenta,
Naming the hamburger after the name of your restaurant seems silly.  If I’m eating in your restaurant, I’m pretty confident what I’m ordering is from your restaurant and not from a different restaurant.

Please don’t call duck fat grease.  Crisco is grease.

Slicing something very thinly does not make it carpaccio.

Local can be overrated.

Thomas Keller insists on Maine lobsters at the French Laundry rather than those from the nearby Pacific Ocean.

I’d tell you who the biggest skirt-chaser I’ve ever worked for is, but It’s Confidential. Some of you will know what I’m saying here.

My last post had a lot of typos and grammatical errors. Sorry, I didn’t proof that one due to my desire to post after a long absence, and several fingers of bourbon.

I only watch the Golden Globes for the political commentary. I mean, why not? The information is as reliable as any other news source.


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