Dirt and Tears and Tattoos

Food and Gas and Car Washes

I admit it, I watch them all.

I am a serial food show addict.

That being said, I do learn from my mistakes.

Over the years I have found myself sitting with my eyes glazed over unable to draw myself away from Martha, and Guy, and Morimoto, and Ina, and Rachel, and Paula and...Giada. Grr. Giada.

As time passed my interest drifted from the food porn to the philosophy of food. The why, the what? Somehow knowing what was behind the food became more important than the food. I guess, that also evolved with my involvement with food.

I grew up in my Mom's kitchen. She was Martha before there was Martha. My whole childhood was about preparing for the next event. We had events because my Mom wanted to be a chef, because she loved people and she wanted to make them happy. Perhaps that is all that any chef really needs.

I never saw myself there though. I liked food, but I never thought about making it. One time I was on a business trip to Chicago. My wife and I ate in this world renowned steak place. I had this enormous steak. It was pretty good, but I found myself thinking, I've had better at my Mom's house. I thought, I've made better than this at my own house. My Mom, taught me well.

I grew up in my families business. We have owned gas stations since I was 11 years old. Before that, my Dad worked for an oil company. I say that I am in the Convenience Store Business today, but really, I am in the Gas Station business. I will never drift far from those roots.

I grew up working the pumps at my Dad's station. Standing at the dispenser taking cash from our customers and resetting it with the key. It was so simple.

The first store that we purchased was only 700 square feet. We still have it. In today's standards it is so simple.

Today, I am still in the gas station business, but, I also have a food truck. I go out everyday and put together what I know from the family business and the family kitchen and try to serve it to unwitting customers. I say unwitting, because I think that there is this illusion that restauranteurs or food truck owners have some sort of training. Some great certification. Ok, well there is a requirement that we maintain certain cleanliness standards, but other than that, we are all just making it up. That's not really different than everyone else though, is it?

For a time I had 60 employees. I managed a computer network of over 60 different types of computers, two franchises, three car washes an auto repair shop and of course the c-stores. It was a lot; not as much as a chain of 600 stores, but in many ways, much more. If you have 600 stores, you don't spend much time in the store managing you day to day. You have "people" to do that.  I like to say that we were too big to be small and too small to be big. I spent a lot of time in the office, but if the car wash went down I was there with the welder.

There is something satisfying about getting down in the dirt and feeling the mud in the pit as you try to force the car wash chain back into place. In the cold, you stand there and realize that fixing it is completely beyond your capabilities. Whatever you know about the system, it is cold and dirty and everything that you are about to do will be while standing in muck. Leverage, ice, grease, dirt, simple and complex mechanics, hydraulics, computer technology, they all come together to pull a car through a tunnel and spray it with soap.

My father smashed his hand under one of the rollers once. It squeezed his fingers until the skin burst. I don't remember whether it broke any bones but I remember the stitches on the sides of his fingers.

I ran my thumb through a chain and sprocket system at 5:30 in the morning one time. I was standing on top of a 10ft. ladder and I released the counterbalance on a door weight. I am not even sure how my thumb ended up there but I watched in slow motion as my hand whipped around the sprocket coming out the other side looking very much like hamburger.

I somehow I slide to the ground and landed on my feet. I took a deep breath and asked our store manager for a roll of duct tape and calmly lay down on the floor.


Growing up in the gas station business I learned to just solve the problem. We lived to make the customer happy and we often put ourselves at personal risk to make it happen. We climbed into the pit where all the solids fell at the exit of the car wash and scooped out the muck with a bucket to keep it clear. I power washed the car wash on multiple occasions while the car wash was still running. Only once did the hose get wrapped around the brush and fly out of my hands wrapping around the spinning brush. We climbed on the roof of the store to shovel feet of snow from the eves to stop the leaking inside. Shoveled snow from the satellite dish to keep the credit cards processing. My Dad ran out with a fire extinguisher and put out a car fire the was scorching the canopy.

All and all, I still look back on that fondly.

1/26/2017: Food

My daughter is napping on the couch. She had a half day and studying for her midterms is taking its' toll. I wander into the kitchen, into a mess.

It is inevitable that food work its' way into this blog. Food is my business and everything I do leads back to it,  somehow. I am not sure how much and how soon all of that will come out. I like my anonymity. I think it allows me to write without worrying about the consequences, but maybe that is unrealistic.

I turn Netflix on and find an old Anthony Bourdain tv show. It may be his first. The way the shots are spliced together seems Miami Vice-like. Bourdain looks thin and young. As he speaks you can tell he is trying to find his voice.

The kitchen needs to be cleaned, but I also need to eat. I do a little of both. In my mind, I think about making sure that my daughter assumes some of the responsibility for the mess she has left behind. But, I clean. There is also this need to take care of her. I want her to sleep. I know how hard she works; she needs the sleep. It is a balance.

Food is about life. Cooking is about caring. Now, I know that sometimes it is just about shoving something down your throat to make your stomach stop growling. Other times though, cooking is about showing love. When you prepare food, you are giving up your time and your knowledge. You are sharing a secret. The secret of time, and texture, and temperature.

Bourdain is shopping for fish in Tokyo. He talks about the amount of time that goes into producing food in Japan. It seems to be a revelation to the chef. Ahh tv.

I eat leftovers and put dishes in the dishwasher. Right now I need to stop my stomach from growling, but I eye my rice cooker and think about later. Later, I will spend some time with that thing.

Jan 25, 2017: Painting and Feasting

I have wanted this blog for a long time. I want to have a place to share my ideas and thoughts and be creative. Writing is much like painting. I am sure that is not an original statement, but I think about it a lot. Words have such power. Words tell stories, and transfer ideas, and evoke emotions. Little words and big extravagant words work together to weave, and coat, and cover.

Wanting to have a blog and being able to actually carry it out are two different things. It is tough to think about your ideas being broadcast into the ether. There is the inevitable possibility that they will be slashed apart and burned before your eyes. The task of organizing your thoughts so that what ends up typed up matches what was running through your head is a difficult and thankless task. Why anyone would write, I have no idea.

I think it's like going to the gym. The pain is somehow pleasant.

The possibility that someone will like what you turn out is always there. It is to feed the ego, it is to feed the soul. It is to answer questions and to learn about the world. Any of us can sit down and type something, but to click post is to invite the world to join in.

Perhaps writing is to paint a picture, but to post to a blog is to throw a dinner party. You invite the world and sit back. Once it goes out there, the guests file in. They find their seats, they sample the prose, contemplate the ideas.

Some look up, satisfied.
Some beg for more, others, throw their plates against the wall and storm out.

Feast with me. Perhaps the menu will satisfy.

Jan 23, 2017: Snowflakes and Tyrants

It has been a while since I posted.

The world has changed a bit. I think we all feel a little different.
If you are happy about the new President, you feel empowered and courageous, victorious.
If you are not happy about the new President, you feel lost, and confused, and betrayed.

I would consider myself in the second category.
There are so many things to discuss. So many points of view to be examined. My first thought is to lash out and attack the people and ideas presented. I want to break down their arguments and direct them to the "facts". What we are learning, what we should have known, is that the "facts" don't actually matter. Today we are operating in a world of feelings.

While the conservatives call anyone who questions the new administration and new policies snowflakes, the White House Press Secretary gets up in front of the podium and talks about how demoralizing it is to have every statement questioned. The irony.

It is pretty clear that I am not going to solve any problems on this blog. I am not going to run for office or leave the country, but I think that I want to be involved in the discussion. I think that we need a discussion. Perhaps someone who does not agree with me will read what I write and engage in the discussion; instead of just lashing out. I am going to try not to lash out as well.

We are all just here for a moment. The best that we can hope for is to leave the place a little better than what we found.

Protected Space

Nothing good happens behind a force field.  

Lately I have had a problem keeping my mouth shut.  I feel like I have been freed from sixteen years of living in a box.  I finally broke free and now I just can't shut up.  

It is ok though.  I am not out to hurt anybody. I definitely don't want to lose friends.  I just want to make people think.  So much of what we are exposed to today is put out by people with an agenda. An agenda that lines their pockets an agenda that is there only to protect them from their own fear of change.  

I am not sure if most people think about this, but I do.  The world we live in could be a much different world.  If change had not happened, we would not live in the world of technology that we have today.  A dark world without medicine or electricity is just a small innovation from not existing.  That is, if we insisted on living with things without any change.  Change has brought us the world we have today.

The Dark Ages were called that for a reason.  Not just because there was no electricity.  It was dark because we forgot.  The human race forgot all that the great empires had learned.  They turned to roving bands of horse bound raiders terrorizing the land.  For 600 years European civilization languished.  

I am not an alarmist.  While I am not a fool, I am very aware of the fact that we could go back there, I am more concerned about wanting our world to be as good as it can be.  I am so pissed that I will not be here in a hundred years to see what we create.  

So, the only thing to do is to push.  Push out of the force field an make people move.  Things are pretty good in our part of the world, but they could be better.  We could have real understanding.  We could have clean water, clean air...peace.

Nothing comes easy, but saying that everything is good inside this box is not the way to go.  Facing the things that make us uncomfortable; looking at our neighbors and asking ourselves how we can make their lives better.  Not being an asshole.  

I am not going to try to convince you of anything.  I want you to ask questions.  Stop and listen to what people are saying.  Ask more questions.  Change the channel and contemplate what other people are saying.  You won't agree with most of it, but just the process of asking will move the world forward.  Leave this box.  It is safe, but it is not as good as it could be.

The Authenticity of the Moment

I have been ten days in this temple
and my heart is restless.
The scarlet thread of lust at my feet
has reached up long.
If someday you come looking for me,
I will be in a shop that sells fine seafood,
a good drinking place,
or a brothel.
        -  Ikkyu, fifteenth-century Zen buddhist high priest
                                                         (Intro to Momofuku)


It's a cookbook.  That's it really.  There are beautiful pictures of carefully prepared and posed dishes, lists of ingredients, detailed instructions and stories.

The authors are David Chang and Peter Meehan and the book is called Momofuku.  My sister gave it to me for my birthday.  I haven't made anything from the book yet, but I pick it up every once in awhile and savor the dishes and the stories with my eyes.

It is the type of book that could make your mind turn to jello.  Beautiful and surreal in its' utter intangibility.  But, somehow it manages to stay above the soulless corporate crap cranked out by the Martha machine.  It is so simple that you believe in it without feeling betrayed.

Life, is about figuring it all out.  It is about finding things that work and tucking them away to use, or share with someone, later.  I love that type of story.  Someone with no direction, no need for direction, just a need to know and the will to keep going; just to keep looking.

Someday I will visit Momofuku, or maybe I won't.  I see the heart and soul that made the restaurant and the dishes in this book come to life and I would hope that when the first taste of food touches my tongue I can feel all that passion.  But, I might not.

What makes it all so intriguing is the fact that David is just a guy who loves food.  He loves the simple noodle houses and family meals that make the milestones of life.  He created a restaurant that is nothing more than an expression of that love, and the world shows up at his doorstep.

You have to ask yourself, are people there because the food is so good, or because of the passion?  The struggle is, how do you keep that fire burning?  How do you feed the masses without turning your back on what it is that made you successful?

My world is one of speed and commodity and I struggle with the same thing.  How do you make something taste like home without putting out the light that makes it special?  How do you create a sense of warmth and happiness in a world that has so many demands?  How do you create passion in a group that is just trying to make it to the next rent payment?

The 5:10 egg.  There are directions on how to make the perfect soft boiled egg.  The photo elicits a taste on your tongue.  It is creamy and soft and the juxtaposition of the salty caviar in the photo is a perfect balance.  I haven't ever tried the dish, but I can tell.

"And that second meal at Noodle Bar just killed me.  It was so fucking good, 

and not in some lightbulby way, but because it was gutsy.  It was honest.  

It was delicious, that least descriptive of all food words, 

but it was 

and it was so in a way 

that made me want more."

                                                      - intro to Momofuku, Peter Meehan

When I was in college, a group of friends and I went to Key West, like thousands of other college kids, for spring break.  One night, my friend and I were walking down the street and heard a really good Jimmy Buffet cover singer from one of the bars.  Both of us were huge fans and we squeezed through the door.  Sitting on a bar stool, with a ridiculous looking floppy hat and a pair of dark sunglasses was a guy belting out Jimmy's biggest hits.  The room was relaxed and we all sung along with the music.  The guy was good.

The next day as we thought about how good he was and how goofy the guy looked.  We realized that it could have been Jimmy.  It was one of his favorite places, I had heard stories of him doing just that...  One way or another, the music was good and the room was warm and friendly and you could see why a performer who regularly played to thousands would want to come back to a small room.  It was all about that feeling, that warmth, that authenticity of the moment.

We all eat.  We shove things in our mouths to get us from today to tomorrow.  At one point in my life I remember eating just to eat.  Most of what I put into my mouth was crap.  I remember thinking that I would take one more bite, because the next bite will be good.  I would repeat that over and over through an entire bowl of cheese dip, at the end bloated and disgusted with myself.

With that in mind, how powerful is it to create food that satisfies just by talking about it?

To create is to satisfy.  Successful satiation is peace.

Hello Summertime... how you doin'?

Tomorrow is the last day of school.

Really, it is the last half day of school.  As my kids have pointed out, the last week of school is really the last 3 and a half days of school.  Teachers finished up last Friday and this week was all about fulfilling time requirements.

Tomorrow afternoon, one of the neighborhood families throws a huge end of year party at their house.  Complete with bouncy house sprinkler and plenty of adult beverages, the party is great.  I have actually been looking forward to it for a long time.  Even so, I love and hate this time of year.

My daughter has this smile that just won't quit.  When I ask her if she is looking forward to summer you can see the sense of relief in her eyes.  She has worked really hard this year and the summer will be a welcome break.  I, on the other hand have not been able to feel that sense of relief, well, I don't remember when I did.

I remember looking forward to summer but it never felt like a break.  I have had a job of some sort since I was ten years old.  I would mow lawns all summer then go back to school.  When I was 14 I bought this bicycle that was $480.00.  Some of my friends had bikes just as nice, but I am not sure that they paid for them.  (I still have it.)

This is not meant to complain about my childhood.  The truth is, I liked to work, and I was the one that made myself go out and get those jobs.  They were jobs that I did like a kid.  Not much responsibility and sometimes, it took two weeks to get back and do your yard again.  It made me understand that it is really nice to get jobs over with.

But I digress.

I look forward to sunshine and the pool opening up and seeing all the neighbors, but I just don't feel that sense of relief.  Summertime means that I have to get the kids to swim practice, then camp, then grandma's, then figure out how to get my work done, with less time than in the winter.  It means that I have to look at all the relaxed people around me and realize that I don't feel relaxed... that makes me even more uptight.

Summertime means that I am a year older and so are my kids.  They have both grown three inches since last year.  My daughter will be in 7th grade next year.  Only two more years 'til high school, then college, then leaving home and I go into the nursing home.

Crap.

See how this works?  Why can't I just look at the kids playing in the pool and enjoy the moment?

I have a friend that I go riding with (on a bicycle, not a horse.) He has always been very focused and very relaxed.  He enjoys riding and running just to do them.  I know right?  Crazy.

To me working out was always a job.  It was something that I had to do.  I needed to be healthy, so I could work, so I needed to work out.  Even when I was swimming in college, swimming was my job.  If I did not swim, I probably wouldn't have gotten into a college.  Maybe I would have, but that was the way it felt at the time.

These days I really do like getting on my bike just to ride.  I even find myself pushing myself up a hill really hard accidentally and enjoying the pain and the thrill.  I guess I do know what it feels like, I just need to let it happen to summer.

So, tomorrow I look forward to one (or two) too many beers and the freedom that comes from taking in the moment.  Come on summer, you and I have some bonding to do.