Apartment 6C is Turned into a Winter Wonderland, Julia Child Eat Your Heart Out, and an I.R.C. S.O.B. Swipes my Metro Card

I am determined to take another crack at a festive, wintry, amazing New York Christmas. And Wynene's visit is extra incentive, so Brian and I went out on the town one Monday and shopped for beautiful decorations for the living room. His enthusiasm for decorating matched mine, so he was very helpful. It was so much fun! We listened to Christmas music the whole time as we cut out paper snowflakes, strung twinkling white lights, created a snowy diorama, lit tiny candles, and placed shiny, silvery ornaments everywhere. The sight when I come home from work is very pleasing and comforting, and I can't wait to show it off to the guests at our holiday party next Tuesday. What fun! 

Brian sets to work, creating many lovely snowflakes for the apartment.

A light flurry hits apt 6C

Our diorama! Isn't it cool? It's supposed to be a little wintry landscape.

Aren't they pretty? Brian made most of these. The few that are square and sort of strange-looking are mine. I gave up on trying to shape flakes and instead prepped the paper for Brian so that he could create some really cool ones.

Having to contend with the flash being off and his shaky hands, Brian snaps a picture of me putting the finishing touches on our wintry wonderland.

Brian turned 31 on Monday, December 14. He wasn't excited about it at all. So I wanted to give him the best birthday I could. I thought the perfect way to do that was to cook for him because that's all he does for people, though no one ever cooks for him. I was dreading it because I don't cook, but was determined. However, stumped about what to make, I wrote to Rilkean, asking for help. She suggested something warm and hearty because of the weather and listed a couple of things, including coq au vin, reminding me too that it's French. This is particularly cool because Brian is trained in classic French cuisine. I next turned to epicurious.com and searched recipes for coq au vin. I chose a classic version, mostly because it was fairly complex. Again, I never cook, but when I do, I am inherently adverse to cutting corners. I don't even buy frozen vegetables, opting instead to buy fresh in order to be forced to prepare them myself. 

I read this recipe lots of times, trying to sell myself on the idea, pumping myself up, the way I imagine a football coach tries to stir excitement and desire for a great performance from his boys before they hit the field for a game. I even showed it to Jenny, who reviewed it with me and pointed out that 97% of people who used it would again, and that it got three forks out of four, which is good.  Finally, I was ready.

The dinner was a complete success. As I've told a few people, this was my most ambitious culinary effort. It was complicated. And filled with so many steps. But it completely paid off. Brian was impressed and touched that I cooked for him.  He had a terrific birthday.

The chicken sits below, submerged in a marinade of pinot noir, carrots, celery, flattened, garlic, whole peppercorns, and extra virgin olive oil. I prepared it on Friday and it stayed covered in the fridge, only seeing occasional light. When Brian was over I had to sneak it to the bathroom in order to turn the pieces of chicken without him seeing. On Sunday, I spent three hours before work cooking the meal. 

Preparing my mise en place

I remove the pieces of chicken, bloated and purple like a drowned corpse, from the marinade, where they sat stewing for two days. 

The first step to cooking the meal: frying the bacon bits.

Duel pots. The recipe directed that the chicken be cooked in a single layer, no pieces sitting on top of each other. I didn't have a pot large enough so I had to divide the pieces between two pots, which made me nervous when it came to everything else: How do I divvy up all the ingredients evenly? I was particularly concerned about the flour because I knew it was used to thicken the sauce, and the recipe called for three tablespoons. I was worried about it being too thick in one pot and not thick enough in the other, etc. Well, I thought, Everything will be combined at the end so I won't alter the measurements. I just tossed what I had as equally as I could between the two pots, though I did end up using three tablespoons of flour in the left pot and two in the right, the right being slightly smaller. Too much information?

Trying to keep up with dishes at the same time. I was able to wash these as I kept a careful eye on the chicken cooking in the bacon drippings on the stove to my right.

Just before I add shallots, garlic, flour, and chicken stock to it. These are the "solids": the original ingredients that made up the marinade, minus the pinot noir, which has been strained at this point and is sitting aside. 

When the time arrives to sautee the pearl onions, I return to the recipe for instructions and realize suddenly that I have to peel 20 of them. Right now. I just have so much going on that I don't think about it and now I begin to frantically peel each one, my hands shaking from the urgency of the situation. And of course my face begins to itch a little here and there, probably from the sudden stress. And I have bits of onion skin sticking to my fingers. Ughh. But I'm still taking pictures of it all, because I told Rilkean I would. The camera's a bit slick from food and grease by this point.

My sauce. I had to strain it and press every ounce from the "solids." Since I didn't have an adequate tool, I had to pour everything first into a larger pot through a colander, then take a smaller pot and press the bottom of it into the colander, squeezing precious juice from the carrots and such. Then, I took my wooden spoon and pressed further, making sure to get every drip of sauce from the solids. This is the result.

The recipe at this point asked that I strain the sauce from the solids. Then, discard the solids. Discard the solids? I read that part a bunch of times. Are you kidding? Those solids took work to put together. Those are they in the picture, the carrots, onions, celery, and peppercorns from the marinade. Needless to say I kept the solids and placed them in tupperware to be used in some way at a later date. Oh, and with so much going on all at once for three continuous hours, I never stopped once to taste anything. So at this point I popped a carrot into my mouth. The sauce was amazing. Is it okay to say that about my own sauce? I asked myself as I tasted it, Would I enjoy this if I had ordered it at a restaurant, prepared by professionals? The answer was an immediate yes. I was completely surprised by the results. I actually tasted it a few more times because I didn't trust my reaction at first. Seriously. But it tasted so good each time. Yay! 

Sorry, it's a little blurry. The meal is almost complete by this point. The last thing to do is combine everything to the sauce bubbling away on the stove: the bacon pieces, carmelized pearl onions, carmelized wild mushroom assortment, and of course, the chicken.

I brought out the recipe towards the end of the meal so Brian could review it. He approved. Those are parsnip fries in the middle. I figured I had to make some sort of side, but you know what? That meal stood up perfectly on its own.  Does anyone recognize the picture in the background?? Terrific holiday picture of us in a sleigh, soaring over beautiful San Jose?

He loved it!

The employee room at work is actually a bathroom converted to a storage closet for bleach, cloth napkins, speakers, and our stuff. It's accessible only to employees and with a key , which we keep in a special place and share among ourselves. Long ago I stopped keeping cash in my wallet when I would stow my bag in the closet. Though when I first started, I kept a lot of cash in my wallet, unattended, mostly because I would forget to take the money out the night before at home after a shift, but also because I trusted all of my coworkers. I really liked my new job and everyone. I knew it was a bit naive, and after a few months when I discovered that 30 dollars went missing from my bag, I stopped keeping cash in it.

From time to time I would think about how stupid it is to keep my Metro Card in my wallet as well, but for some reason I sometimes, sort of, test situations. I've been aware of it for a few years and  cannot account for why I decide to do things, aware of potential, undesirable consequences. The best answer I can come up with is that, in the end, I don't believe the outcome will ever be bad. Does it make sense? I think to myself, If I leave my Metro Card in my wallet, an employee could easily take it. BUT he probably won't. And I go with the latter, trusting that everything will be okay, but knowing it's wiser to be more cautious. 

Anyway, you can probably guess where this is going. Last night at the end of my shift, I grabbed my bag from the employee room, took little notice of the fact that my wallet was sitting upside down at the bottom, stuffed my tips in it, and hurried for the train, tired and uninterested in being kept at work any longer, especially since we didn't make much last night. It was at the train stop at W215, my breath steaming before me from the chilly night air and my cold fingers fumbling, that I pulled out my wallet for my Metro Card. When I opened it, all I found in the usual spot was my driver's license, which I always keep tucked behind my Metro Card in the same sleeve. My heart instantly dropped to my stomach as I feared the worst. I rifled hurriedly through my entire wallet, panicked because I was pressed for time. 

Chagrined at not immediately finding it, I was compelled to temporarily abandon the search in anticipation of an approaching train. I went to the machine and very reluctantly fed it $2.25 for a single-ride ticket. I slid through the turnstile and pushed through the doors to the platform, taking a seat to conduct a more thorough search of my wallet. Why did I purchase only a single-ride ticket instead of one that would last me a week or two weeks? Because just two nights ago, two nights ago, I bought one for $45, which actually has a $50 value. I had exactly $45 left on the card when it was taken from me. It was the same as having cash stolen. That card would've lasted me about two weeks. And there's no way to be reimbursed if it's been purchased with cash, obviously. 

When I first moved here Rilkean sent me an email, telling me that if you buy a Metro Card with an ATM card and it gets lost or stolen, you can call a number and have it cancelled, and the remaining value is returned to your ATM card. It's sort of a long process, but it does work, as I discovered when I lost my card last summer. Lost that time, not stolen. I know that for sure. 

After having scoured my bag for that card and not finding it, panic gave way to upset, and on the train I found my mind racing, quickly assembling a list of my coworkers that evening. I feel I can safely eliminate a couple of people, but for the rest, I have no idea. I don't want to look on anyone with suspicion because I honestly have no clue who did it. But I can still feel very pissed off by it. Because I said goodbye to every one of them last night and they each said good night back with equal good humor. And whoever took my card had to see my sunny face on my license, smiling up at them as they stole from me (It's true: My expression in the picture is pretty bright, which is unusual for me). And there's no way to figure out who did it or even place a camera in the room because it's a bathroom, and that's weird.

It's so easy for people to rummage through others' things in that room. They get to lock themselves in there, for crying out loud. At my last job, we had to cram our stuff in this greasy cabinet, but at least it was in plain view. It was in a short hall lined with tables, one we had to pass through countless times throughout the day, so it was impossible for someone to go through another's bag without all employees, and patrons too, for that matter, witnessing everything.

Sigh.

Of course Brian has offered to drive me to work even more right now. Very sweet. And guess what? At the end of tonight's shift, as I was sweeping the mezzanine, I happened upon a Metro Card lying on the floor. I figured it was discarded, but picked it up anyway, just to see if maybe it had something left on it. On the way to the train stop I was eager to try it out at the turnstile, but assumed what was likely: that the stile would blink insufficient fare in its digital green readout and I would have to toss the found card. However, when I pulled it out and passed it through the slot, it worked. It had two rides left on it. Awesome! That made me feel better. And a little lucky, actually. 

Thanksgiving in Cambridge

What happens when you stick eight adults and five children in a huge, old New England house with wonderfully creaky steps and have them live together for three days to share friendship and terrific food? A fabulous holiday. Thank you guys so much for hosting Thanksgiving. We had a great time. 

Nate and Thaedryn (sp??) engage in light conversation before dinner. Beef stew and Bisquick biscuits? Sign me up!

Oh man--they have no idea what's about to hit them. In the background Brian scrubs up before he lays hands on the turkeys.

This picture cracks me up: At three years old, Canon already shows promise of being a great orator. 

Brian, as usual, is very busy in the kitchen. 

I like the empty bottles of Corona and New Castle in the background. They, I don't know, add the necessary comic touch that the turkey was missing

Maebe shows some festive foliage for the camera. The children collected some really beautiful leaves to adorn our dinner table.

Ramona wows in her Thanksgiving ensemble and I'll say it again: I love a bold necklace piece

The spread

The moment we were all waiting for... and we definitely feasted

An Exhausting but Satisfying Response

 I was headed out the door with Brian when Jenny called out to me. "Did you read that restaurant etiquette article in The Times?" She read a couple of the things listed to me and it was familiar: a week before the owner at my restaurant had printed up and posted the same article as a guideline for we servers. Skimming the list at work, I got so annoyed that I stopped reading it. But my ears perked at some of the things she was reading to us, so I had her send it to my email. Later that night, Brian and I pored over it and the hundreds of responses it received. We spent a lot of time agreeing with some of the comments but mostly guffawing at all the others. After almost two hours of getting lost in this article and the feedback, Brian, climbing onto the fire escape, casually suggested that I write a list from servers to patrons. I loved the idea immediately and mentioned it jokingly to Jenny. "You should write a list!" she agreed. "And send it to the Op-Ed section of The New York Times." 

I compiled a [short] list and procrastinated a little before finally buckling down and writing it out. After proofreading it a couple of times and coming up with a pseudonym I could live with but would still maintain my anonymity, I submitted it. I immediately received an automated email, explaining that I would receive a response in the next three days, telling me whether or not they would run the article. What follows is a link to the original article and my response. 

http://boss.blogs.nytimes.com/2009/10/29/one-hundred-things-restaurant-staffers-should-never-do-part-one/?emc=eta1

Dining and Decorum: 25 Things of Which Patrons Should Be Aware

By Hazel Tradewind

 

 

 

In June of 2008, I packed up my things and moved to Manhattan. Eager for a radical change personally, professionally, and geographically, I left my hometown in the San Francisco Bay Area, determined to take a break from a career and explore all of my artistic and adventurous inclinations in the Big Apple. Figuring the only non-professional job that could pay the rent in the city was that of being a server, I hit the streets each day, armed with resumes until I landed a position the second week of July.  Now at my second restaurant in Manhattan, I have been waiting tables for nearly a year and a half. Although I’ve not been at it nearly as long as countless other waiters, I feel my experiences working with the public have been ample, and that I’ve earned my chops.

 

A list then, a response to the article that ran three weeks ago entitled “You’re the Boss: 100 Things Restaurant Staffers Should Never Do.” I ask any servers out there who read this to please chime in and include anything I have forgotten. I have experienced the pleasant, the peaceful, the engaging, and the generous, but I’ve also encountered the ridiculous, the annoying, the high maintenance, and the mean. This is addressed to everyone at the table. Enjoy.

 

 

1.     Try not to split the check more than two ways. It slows a server down when she has to stop in the middle of a rush to charge Mr. X’s card $35, Ms. Y’s card $50 and make change for Ms. Z’s twenty dollar bill.

 

2.     Do not ask three different people for the same thing—i.e. a fork or salt and pepper.  A good busser or server will return with what you need promptly. Allow them time to retrieve it for you before asking multiple people. 

 

3.     Ask bussers for silverware, napkins, water or condiments only. For anything else, flag down your waiter or ask the busser to find him.  Likewise, try to ask for all condiments at once. One of the most frustrating aspects of brunch, many servers will tell you, is to have to make multiple trips to one table. To bring your table the ketchup they asked for, just so they can ask for salt and pepper, so that when you return with that they ask for butter and jam, only to return with that and then be asked for hot sauce is completely ridiculous and avoidable.  At the same time a server is making all these trips, she has a tray of coffees she needs to deliver to another table, an order she has to place for this table, extra plates to give to that table, mimosas to pick up for another table, etc.

 

4.     Remember what you ordered.  More often than not the plates are hot and heavy and sometimes the person running the food is not your server. Help him out by ceasing the conversation for a moment and claiming what is yours when it arrives at the table.

 

5.     Don’t block a pathway with your chair or belongings. A restaurant is a busy place with many people bustling about, arms loaded with food and trays filled with drinks. If it’s obvious that people are continually squeezing past you or stepping over your bag, move in closer to the table and place your belongings under it.

 

6.     If you can, it is very helpful to move things aside for a server so he can place the plates on the table.  Again these plates are hot, heavy, and numerous, and we don’t have the extra hand to clear your open map of the city streets of Manhattan or your child’s coloring book in order to place food safely on the table.

 

7.     Don’t assume anything about servers. Most (at least in Manhattan) are college-educated and often take serving jobs because they allow the flexibility to pursue their careers on their time off. Plus, this job can be stressful and exhausting. Just like your job.

 

8.     Don’t assume anything about bussers. For one thing, they all speak English. Plus, their job is more physically demanding than a server’s. Again, their work is stressful and exhausting. Just like yours.

 

9.     Tip on a gift certificate. Gratuity is never magically included in a gift certificate, nor can a server receive the remainder you didn’t use as some sort of gratuity.

 

10. Standard tipping is 20% in Manhattan. When I first started, a seasoned waiter told me “Standard tipping is 18% across the U.S., but in Manhattan it’s 20%, and in D.C. it’s 25%.” I promise you, servers throughout this country depend solely on their tips. Minimum wage is set at a different rate in the hospitality business than other non-salary jobs in this country.  I can show you my weekly paycheck: I average fourteen dollars a week.

 

11. If you are a foreigner visiting the U.S., familiarize yourself with #10, just as you would concerning all other matters and forms of etiquette when visiting a foreign country.

 

12.  If you are able, tip in cash. Cash cannot be taxed, so the server gets to keep 100% of it. Of course, it’s not always possible to tip in cash, and everyone understands that.

 

13. A casual ambience should not determine how to tip. Remember #10, regardless of the atmosphere. Most of the time servers and bussers are working harder in restaurants that are casual: at my current job, we share the responsibility of running food, cleaning, rolling silverware, and packing up food to go.  The only time you should tip less than standard is when you have received poor service.

 

14. And don’t skimp on the tip because you spent a lot on food and drinks.  If you can’t afford to tip accordingly, don’t eat out. If you think I sound out of line, refer again to the part in #10 where I mention that we live solely on our tips.

 

15. Also, be aware that servers share their tips with bussers, bartenders, hostesses, and food runners. So again, when you only want to tip 12% because you ate and drank $150 worth of food, remember that everyone is affected.

 

16. When entering a restaurant, it is always helpful to wait to be seated, even if there isn’t a sign saying so. If you have your eye on a particular table, simply ask when approached by an employee. Never seat yourself.

 

17.  Don’t order things that are not on the menu. If you don’t see chicken wings listed, it’s because the restaurant doesn’t serve them.

 

18.  Restaurants always stay open a bit longer to accommodate customers. Servers and bussers accept this as part of the job and wait patiently after hours for patrons to finish their last glasses of wine and bits of conversation. So when you finally see lights go up and chairs placed on tables, extend the same courtesy those employees just did towards you and finish up so they can try to enjoy the rest of the night, too.

 

19. Please leave a signed receipt. It doesn’t matter whether you leave the merchant or customer copy, but you must leave one and remember to sign it.  At my first job, one of my tables took both receipts by accident, so I lost a tip. It was the same as working for free. Apparently the next day the woman came in, realizing her mistake and hoping I was still able to get my tip. The manager told her I wasn’t able to.  I certainly couldn’t make up a tip, so I had to close the check as if she had left nothing. This has happened to me many times. If I’m lucky to catch the mistake in time, I’m bolting out the door and down the street to catch up with my customers to get the signed copy.

 

20. Don’t let your children run around a restaurant. I have to regularly dodge kids with full plates of food in both arms as their parents shuffle behind them, gently admonishing but still not curbing their behavior. I have had many tables where this goes on from the time they sit down to the time they leave. The parents just switch off getting up to follow the kid around and let him run and scream, so that he doesn’t have a tantrum at the table. By the way, these are usually the same parents who ask their toddlers to tell me what they want to eat. They read them options from the menu and sit expectantly, waiting for their two year old to speak his order to me. It’s called being over-indulgent. And it’s wasting his time and mine. I can order for him: he’s going to eat anything with melted cheese on it. Guaranteed.

 

21. Don’t steal servers’ pens.

 

22. Don’t bark an order as you’re being seated. This person may not even be your server and even if she is, it’s rude to start telling orders at her like she’s a machine. A small acknowledgement that you are interacting with a human is all that’s necessary.

 

23. Put your phone on vibrate.

 

24. Don’t bring in outside food and drinks. It’s really tacky. The only way you can embarrass yourself more in that situation is to leave your outside garbage, i.e. your Starbucks or Jamba Juice cups, at the table for the server to throw away afterwards.

 

25. Don’t order something off the menu and when told that the restaurant doesn’t make it, counter with “Well they made it for me last week.” Unless you know the chef, the only way something special was made for you was because you requested it and your server went to the kitchen and begged them to make it. It was your previous server doing back flips for you. It was an exception. And I’m sure that he and the rest of the staff received a stern admonishment from the chef to never do that again after that order was allowed.