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.