I'm shaming all of you, I know. I have been lazy, and distracted, and non-blog oriented. I realize that part of it has to do with a weekend disinterest in food. I deal in food all day long so when I'm not at work my concerns and attention lie elsewhere. I eat when food runs into me. Which seems to happen more often if beer has run into me (as was the case on Sunday at the Folk Life Festival where Kettle Korn, Falafal, and Nachos all ran into me in a span of a few hours-- kind of incredible that my intestines weren't affected by the trifecta fusion cuisine-- but delve deeper: those things are actually exactly the same, corn and beans cooked in oil. Amazing, no?). To further highlight what I'm talking about I'll give you my eating during the last twenty four hours. Please bear in mind that I have a cold, which is also contributing to a non-interest-- for those not in the know, food isn't quite as fun when you can't smell or taste it. So it goes:
Yesterday: I got to work, rummaged in the fridge and happened upon a peach yogurt (a flavor I loathe) and some bags of sample granola that have been open for a few weeks now. In theory a good combo, but hating the yogurt flavor and eating it with stale granola really doesn't do much for a person. I treated myself to Bahn Mai for lunch which never fails to impress. I went sailing at Duck Dodge after work thus dinner was a big Red Stripe, a Full Sail and some chips and guacamole (I use that term generously as it was the generic version of Imo which means the first four ingredients are dairy products and oil, then it moves to a long list of preservatives, and finally some green coloring-- nary a listing for avocado). I ate three grape tomatoes when I got home and had a slice of the insanely good beer cheese I bought for Chris and Randy at the Pike Place Cheese Festival at some point last week. The beer cheese really tastes like eating cheese while drinking beer, which may seem weird until you think about having a one stop fondue experience, and then it makes tremendous sense. In case you find yourself pining for beer cheese you can take a gander here.
Today: Went to work (after blowing about a half gallon of snot out of my nose) and interestingly enough, didn't really want any yogurt. Had the foresight to bring a Thai Kitchen soup with me. It's funny. I've had this Thai Soup sitting in my bedroom since I moved here. It was one of the reminders of life in San Francisco. Given I was sick and soup seemed appropriate, I thought I'd have it for lunch. No no, I ate it at 7:35 this morning when I was more or less craving a salt lick. It was fantastic...although having eaten lunch for breakfast I was at a little bit of a loss when elevensies rolled around. I went fridge diving again and came up with a sample pack of hummus, a whole wheat tortilla, a yellow bell pepper, shredded cabbage, shredded carrots, peperoncinis, and Parmesan cheese. I mean, on paper, that experience of a single fridge dive resulting in such splendor seems ideal. But you have to understand that what I listed was pretty much exactly everything in the fridge (minus yesterday's peach yogurt). Because that's the way things are. We keep in our fridge exactly what we need. Which means, the same food will be there tomorrow. I could either eat exactly that, or drink from an unlabeled gallon jar of Caesar dressing (which also happened to be in there but which I deigned not to mention). So now I'm back home, which is ironically the place I eat the least. Especially interesting is that Chris and Randy don't keep chocolate in the house, which is I think a lifetime first. In the beginning it was kind of hard to deal with, but true to all that diet literature, once it isn't around and you stop eating it, you cease craving it. It's kind of liberating not to be a slave to the dark stuff.
And this is what I'm talking about. My food life on the day to day, is quite uninteresting right now. Although as I write this, I'm realizing you might be thinking "Wow, that's more than I eat in a week" or "Save some for the starving children in Somalia." Perspective is everything, friend, and for me this is highly uninspired. Food is feeling less about eating and more about thinking. Which is probably good in the long run. But are you better off for having read this? Doubtful. And am I better off for having written it? Unlikely. I wouldn't say this is the beginning of the end of the Assassin, merely a moderate period of hibernating. I promise that the next entry, whenever it happens, will be more compelling. In the interim, if you are interested in finding out what people in Chicago are eating this season, you should think about stopping here.
Showing posts with label Pike Place. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Pike Place. Show all posts
There are only two ways to go, my friend: Anorexia or Blubber
WHY MY NEW JOB IS AWESOME:
At 9:30am my boss and I are hovering over three open containers of sushi, a dish with soy glazed sea eel, a plate of bara sushi rice and the bag of peas that inspired all the rest of these purchases. Papers in hand, we are discussing the wording for a document I'm preparing that outlines the proper technique for dicing a bell pepper.
Three hours later, I am in a meeting, sampling $100 worth of salads and sandwiches picked up from a local market. We are debating the merits of one pasta shape over another, what makes a Waldorf appealing (or not), which cuisines qualify as "hot" and according to whom.
Six hours later I am at a meeting at Steelhead Diner, a brand new Pike Place restaurant. We order the following: all but one of the side items on the menu, three appetizers, three salads, and three entrees. Just to see if I can, here's what I believe we are eating: A Caesar salad, a house salad (served in a hollowed bowl of iceberg with a thousand island type dressing, loaded with sprouts, egg, bacon, blue cheese (let's call it a trumped up Cobb)), an organic baby green salad with your typical spiced nuts and cranberries. Beet tartare (heavy to the horseradish), a beef carpaccio, spring rolls. A pulled pork sandwich, Kasu Cod, Risotto. Hominy cakes (deep fried cream of wheat triangles), red beans and rice, smothered collard greens, french fries with cheese curds and gravy, arugula pesto fettuccine, asparagus, I feel like I'm missing one...Fear not, we won't pass on dessert. Apple pan dowdy with cinnamon ice cream, Meyer lemon cake, pecan chocolate pie, and lavender creme brulee. And then two bottles of wine because good god, why not?
This is amazing...until it gets grotesque. There are plenty of leftovers, which I have no desire to look at ever ever again.
WHY MY NEW JOB IS IRONIC:
I left San Francisco, where I had my own office with a couch, two computers, plants, and almost ALMOST a full Bay view. My salary was enough to easily get by on. I had flexible hours. My co-workers were low key and respectful of space.
As of Monday I joined the ranks of Cube monkeys everywhere. I'm not technically making any money (still have yet to see any employment paperwork although supposedly I'll be having a regular, albeit small, salary), I get to the office at 7:00am (which requires getting in the car at 6:40am) and usually leave around 6:00pm unless, like last night, we have dinner until 10:30. I work with three men who have been known to swear like sailors, hum, whistle, drum on their desks (all while taking a call on speaker phone) and generally just hover in and out of all six of the cubes which are on top of each other.
Yet yet...
I LOVE IT. I absolutely love it. And I would do it for free. I get to debate ideas, plausibility, ingredients, suppliers, write operating procedures, eat. Everything I eat is justified as "research". I think perhaps it could get old but I think I'm more likely to die of cholesterol induced heart disease before that happens.
So, I'll have to be diligent about exercising, which I've been pretty good about. I've been running around Greenlake after work before I go home. That's just dazzling right now, all the apple and cherry trees are blooming and their blossoms are littering the street and flying about in the breeze. Pink and white little snow flurries everywhere. And I'll have to learn that NOT eating everything in front of me is okay-- even required, if I am to live through this experience. It comes in fits and starts. My first two days there was no food, the second two was non-stop. I'll begin to understand the balance. But already, after only four days I get why chef's finish their shifts and want nothing more than a bag of Fritos and a cigarette. I'll either end up hating food or get fat as a whale.
Either way, it won't be for nothing.
At 9:30am my boss and I are hovering over three open containers of sushi, a dish with soy glazed sea eel, a plate of bara sushi rice and the bag of peas that inspired all the rest of these purchases. Papers in hand, we are discussing the wording for a document I'm preparing that outlines the proper technique for dicing a bell pepper.
Three hours later, I am in a meeting, sampling $100 worth of salads and sandwiches picked up from a local market. We are debating the merits of one pasta shape over another, what makes a Waldorf appealing (or not), which cuisines qualify as "hot" and according to whom.
Six hours later I am at a meeting at Steelhead Diner, a brand new Pike Place restaurant. We order the following: all but one of the side items on the menu, three appetizers, three salads, and three entrees. Just to see if I can, here's what I believe we are eating: A Caesar salad, a house salad (served in a hollowed bowl of iceberg with a thousand island type dressing, loaded with sprouts, egg, bacon, blue cheese (let's call it a trumped up Cobb)), an organic baby green salad with your typical spiced nuts and cranberries. Beet tartare (heavy to the horseradish), a beef carpaccio, spring rolls. A pulled pork sandwich, Kasu Cod, Risotto. Hominy cakes (deep fried cream of wheat triangles), red beans and rice, smothered collard greens, french fries with cheese curds and gravy, arugula pesto fettuccine, asparagus, I feel like I'm missing one...Fear not, we won't pass on dessert. Apple pan dowdy with cinnamon ice cream, Meyer lemon cake, pecan chocolate pie, and lavender creme brulee. And then two bottles of wine because good god, why not?
This is amazing...until it gets grotesque. There are plenty of leftovers, which I have no desire to look at ever ever again.
WHY MY NEW JOB IS IRONIC:
I left San Francisco, where I had my own office with a couch, two computers, plants, and almost ALMOST a full Bay view. My salary was enough to easily get by on. I had flexible hours. My co-workers were low key and respectful of space.
As of Monday I joined the ranks of Cube monkeys everywhere. I'm not technically making any money (still have yet to see any employment paperwork although supposedly I'll be having a regular, albeit small, salary), I get to the office at 7:00am (which requires getting in the car at 6:40am) and usually leave around 6:00pm unless, like last night, we have dinner until 10:30. I work with three men who have been known to swear like sailors, hum, whistle, drum on their desks (all while taking a call on speaker phone) and generally just hover in and out of all six of the cubes which are on top of each other.
Yet yet...
I LOVE IT. I absolutely love it. And I would do it for free. I get to debate ideas, plausibility, ingredients, suppliers, write operating procedures, eat. Everything I eat is justified as "research". I think perhaps it could get old but I think I'm more likely to die of cholesterol induced heart disease before that happens.
So, I'll have to be diligent about exercising, which I've been pretty good about. I've been running around Greenlake after work before I go home. That's just dazzling right now, all the apple and cherry trees are blooming and their blossoms are littering the street and flying about in the breeze. Pink and white little snow flurries everywhere. And I'll have to learn that NOT eating everything in front of me is okay-- even required, if I am to live through this experience. It comes in fits and starts. My first two days there was no food, the second two was non-stop. I'll begin to understand the balance. But already, after only four days I get why chef's finish their shifts and want nothing more than a bag of Fritos and a cigarette. I'll either end up hating food or get fat as a whale.
Either way, it won't be for nothing.
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