Wow. So first off, before I get too far into this lengthy rant of an entry that we call a post, let me apologize for the severe lapse in time since my last post.  Eva has been patiently waiting (and gently prodding me) to submit my next entry because "that's how this whole thing works".  Gotta admire the dedication to following the rules :)

I'm not necessarily at a place where I feel compelled to write any brilliant masterpieces and have honestly been dragging my feet submitting my next post mostly because I have been at a loss of what to write.  I can always pick another quirky restaurant subject to ramble on about and insert my two bit opinion on - because god knows I have plenty of those - but I decided at the last minute to ramble on about stuff that is a bit more personal and less focused on a specific topic.  Thus I give you the update in my life.  Please consider yourselves forewarned that this will not be all that exciting. At all.

So I went to Europe.  And it was amazing.  And now I'm back.
And you know what the first thought was when I returned from all of those cities abroad?  Boston is fucking awesome.  And that's not to say the other cities weren't great in their own right's; Florence was beautiful, Venice was touristy and beautiful, Dublin was friendly, clean and fun, Paris was...well, it was Paris (meh really).  But Boston?!?!  Boston is epic.  I'm still not sure what it is about Boston that speaks so loudly to me, but all I know is I love it.  Big enough to do fun stuff with food and capture a killer audience but small enough where you can stand out if you want.  Albeit the smaller size also creates an incredibly incestuous environment in this industry that is damn near sickening but that rant will be for another post.

Now that I have returned I am battling with the million dollar question, "What's next?".  To be honest?  I have no idea.  I have many "ideas" per se but no real push one way or the other.  I'm struggling between a complete idealistic lifestyle consisting of taking my sweet time to find the perfect fit and being able to re-spark my new found inspiration and drive; and a realistic lifestyle consisting of paying the bills and making ends meet.  To take a job too soon, strictly for the money would be to immediately spit in the face of every reason why I just went to Europe and dissolved everything I  had previously built in my life.  However, to disregard a perfectly acceptable opportunity because it does not fit my current ideals as a chef spits in the face of logic and doesn't actually pay the rent.

Let's discuss the options. Idealistic first (because it's the only option founded from passion and let's face it...I'm a passionate guy).
Ideally I would love to make enough money to pay bills for the next 6-8 months, maybe doing small jobs here and there while finishing my business plan for my first restaurant.  Take that business plan and secure funding and then begin the search for a location.  Once I find a location, flip it as quickly as possible to get the doors open, create revenue and proceed along my merry path running my own place for the next few years.  Sounds good, right?  Well turns out reality also needs to have a say in this.  Good ol' reality.  Always knows how to ruin a party.

Realistically it looks as though my "wisest" option is to secure a stable well payed position for the next few years and keep my expenses low enough to save a solid amount of money.  During this time focus more energy into the business plan and market research and then actually be able to have some personal capital to bring to the table when talking to investors.  Hang-ups on this option? Eric needs to actually save money.  Not a strong suit.  Could probably benefit greatly from correcting this weakness.

So there you have it folks.  Not long or windy but kind of straight to the point.  Wish me luck - although I don't know why I say that because luck never has anything to do with it - and I will report back as soon as life has unfolded my next chapter.  Until then eat well and drink up.

E

PREGO

Prego

The Italians say this word like it means everything. Are you ready? Hello. Goodbye. Here. Of course. And I want to say it with them. I am all of the above: here, leaving, arriving, and would love to try everything. 

We landed in Florence at 9 am, eyes stinging from the flights and stomach (at least mine) for something I could call "food". And if there is anything I remember about the last time I was here in Europe was that Italy knew how to do food. I am not taking credit for making a joke about how Italians wouldn't be caught dead doing a low carb diet. But I will take credit for pointing out the reason why Italian women are sexy is because while they wear heels they eat with a fury I can only assume must translate to the bedroom somehow. Women who eat are sexy. They have a confidence in themselves that no woman who orders salad with dressing on the side ever will. 

After a few hours of wandering to get used to the city we passed by a small trattoria with outdoor seating and not one discernible word of spoken English. I immediately wanted to eat there. Word to all travelers: traveling is unfamiliar, it is harsh, and at times inhospitable, but the most important thing to remember is that is the point. Learn to get out of your comfort zone, try a few phrases of the language, and don't eat at places with an "English" menu. The food won't be as good or as authentic. Have some guts, point your finger at something you don't know and maybe you'll be pleasantly surprised.

After ordering a Campari and soda and  "agua con gas" I opted for prosciutto and meand a vegetable and bread soup. When my food arrived in front of me I wanted to kiss the waiter, I refrained and began to eat only what I can describe as some of the best food man can make. Prosciutto is a favorite of mine: fat, salt, and flavor, that's really all it is. Good prosciutto can take a while to make. GREAT prosciutto can take what seems like ages. In this day and age of instant gratification I always find the things I am most drawn to, the things I appreciate most, are those things that take time. We as people have gotten used to getting things faster these days, wether it be information, news, fashion, or food. Just because something is faster does not make it better. Walking around the uffizi gallery today I had to ask myself "why doesn't anyone make monumental sculptures like this anymore?" the answer is that people just don't have the time. Or they tell themselves they don't, either way. I couldn't imagine someone in this day and age taking 12-26 years to finish a marble sculpture. Do you know how many seasons of greys anatomy they would have to catch up on?? 

When I take a bite of prosciutto wrapped around ripe cantaloupe everything stops for a second. I blink a few seconds longer than normal and am transformed to the first time I ever had this particular combination of food. 2006 was the first time I came to Europe. My mother and I travelled for weeks on the train after graduating college in an attempt to see the art work I had been studying in art school for the past 4 years. I assumed I would just end up seeing some great art, I never really expected that my ideas on food would change as well. 

When I tell people I grew up in Connecticut I often get an eyebrow raise or further inquiry as to what part of the state I lived in. This is often followed with a funny quip of "no, not THAT part of Connecticut." We didn't have a pool, a summer home, a tennis court or a 3 car garage. Hell we didn't even have running water. What we did have was a lot of animals, a lot of stacked wood and three Yugos that didn't run. (If you don't know what a Yugo is I wouldn't be surprised, From what used to be called Yugoslavia, it's a car they stopped making in the 80's or something that was about the size of a lare dog)

With the fact I didn't have a heated pool, a butler, or even basic necessities of a home, I also didn't get a lot of gourmet food. There was no such thing as a local produce market in the town I grew up in. No place to buy fresh homemade pasta, no truffle oil, no saffron, no wine store. The only chef people in my town knew about was boyardee.

When I landed in Europe in 2006 I knew I would forever be changed. I just didn't expect food to have such a big role. One day after visiting the palace of Versailles I realized my blood sugar was dipping into the very dangerous "hangry" zone. I needed food and fast. I happened on the first place off a side street and stepped into a small cafe serving food and wine. I pointed, and trusted someone would bring me something non-poisonous and tasty. What they brought me was a small fort made of perfectly shaped pieces of melon with tissue paper thin slices of Proscuitto circling the structure. Inside was arugula dressed in olive oil, salt and pepper. I wasn't quite sure how to start eating, but I grabbed a bit of everything to create one bite and started to eat.

It was one of the first times I understood that flavor can be more than sustenance and nostalgia. Up until then when I was hungry, I ate. When I ate a particular meal I was reminded of a place, or a family member. This was different. I suddenly became aware there was a single flower in the vase next to me, there was a smudge on the handwritten chalkboard outside, there were more bubbles in the water glass in front of me, then the one my mother had. I suddenly paid closer attention then I ever had during a meal. Things seemed more beautiful, and in many ways it was because they were. 

How to complete a successful stage

[Staging is the activity when a cook or chef works briefly, for free, in another chef's kitchen to learn and be exposed to new techniques and cuisines. The term originates from the French word stagiaire meaning trainee, apprentice or intern.] -Wikipedia

My stage is quickly coming to a close. I arrived in Paris two weeks ago and have had the tremendous opportunity to be warmly welcomed into the kitchen of Verjus. So far I have been having a great time and keep getting invited back so all appears to have been a success. Truth be told, I have done a lot of stages in my day as well as administered numerous more. If I were to fail at a stage I think it would be more perplexing and worrisome than anything else. But there is something comforting about going back to the basics. Its proven to be an excellent opportunity to reawaken a lot of the forgotten fine dining techniques and nuances that have been lost over the years. A shout out to my past, if you will. A re-ignition of the internal flame.

Staging is not difficult provided you have a certain list of qualities, can comprehend basic etiquette and can follow a few simple but cardinal rules. I know many people get worked up about having to do a stage and often times will completely botch their only chance at getting the job they really want merely because they are so nervous that they end up fucking it up for themselves. Typically this means over thinking simple tasks or getting so nervous that they don't stop talking and inevitably say something unbelievably dumb.

But they are an essential part of a kitchen's well being. It gives both parties the ability to properly assess the other before making a commitment that they very likely would end up regretting later down the road. The union between chef and kitchen is a matrimony. You get the right match and there is this sense of harmony. The whole team appreciates having that person on the team and that person really enjoys showing up to work and in turn does a great job. The wrong fit and it's like having a tumor eating away at everything the restaurant is trying to build. So one day (sometimes up to three months) is a small price to pay to ensure everyone's future happiness.

And yet sadly there isn't really a comprehensive a guide or template to help people become more prepared for their stage and be able to know, in black and white, what you should and should not do. So I thought I would take the liberty and put one together. This list is being written by someone who is currently in the process of a stage as well as an executive chef that has developed stage protocol for other companies, written exams, administered stages and partaken in countless stages throughout my career. I've been on both sides. Many times. I know the anxiety experienced by the stage and the mentality of the chef and what (we) are looking for. I'm not claiming that I will speak for every chef in every kitchen but I would safely say this guide is applicable to the overwhelming majority of restaurants.

The first rule, above all other rules, that you should never violate - in any circumstance - is to be humble! In other words, shut your mouth. Look at the dynamics of the situation for a second: the chef is looking for someone who will fit their culture. Someone who will help the team excel and grow. Someone who will help create (or maintain) an environment that is enjoyable for the entire team and make people want to show back up to work happy and in good spirits.

Is the chef evaluating your skill set? Of course. But a limited skill set will not necessarily get you eliminated from the applicant pool...but telling the chef your thoughts (on just about anything) without being asked, probably will. Humility is so critical, it's unbelievable. But it's easiest to come across as a humble person if you can just not speak. And it's hard to keep your mouth shut entirely because naturaly the other guys want to talk to you so they can get a feel for your personality and let's face it - you are dying to fit in.

There's no sense denying that last fact, it's human nature. You are the lowest of the low on the totem pole and that is an uncomfortable place to be, so the quickest way to get out of the awkward seat is to talk your way out. Maybe if you tell some stories and try to show these guys that you have been to some great places and know some cool people and have the most expensive knife set they will open up to you and joke with you and allow you in the club. Then maybe this awkward, "new kid on the block" feeling will go away. Becuase once this feeling goes away and you fit in better you will be awesome and relaxed and the chef will hire you immediately. Nope. Bad idea.

Want to know the best way to fit in? Keep your mouth shut, your head down and your hands moving. The only thing the other guys need to see is your skill. That will speak much more loudly than anything you can say. And I'm not necessarily talking about how well you juilliene the scallions or how perfectly you pick the herbs...but how well you do every task on your prep list - how fast, how clean and how quietly. And then - as important as anything else you have done all day is - how well do you clean at the end of the night? This alone speaks volumes about who someone is in the kitchen. Tired? So is everyone else. Don't really want to scrub out the low-boy? Neither does anybody else. Want to take short cuts while cleaning so you can get out earlier? I wouldnt recommend it. But if you clean fast and diligently like your life depends on it, you will see magic happen and earn major respect.

Obviously, the other portion of this stage is for you to check out the restaurant, the team and the chef as well. Each step in your career is an important step so you need to use this opportunity to honestly evaluate this environment as a possible home for you.

Here are the rules, listed from beginning to end, for you to read, print, memorize, post, tattoo...whatever you feel you need to do. Good luck.

Rules:
1. Do a dry run the day before so you know exactly how to get to the restaurant and how long it takes you to get there. Calling the chef when you are supposed to be there and saying that you are going to be late is the same as calling the chef and telling him to go fuck himself. Probably not a good move.
2. Show up early and if you can familiarize yourself with the kitchen in your free time to eliminate wasted steps, that's always helpful.
3. Bring a hat, a pen, a sharpie, a pad of paper, your knife kit (keep it small), chef coat, kitchen shoes (black, slip resistant and closed toed) and a thermometer.
2. Shut your mouth. Refer to above.
3. Be friendly and polite. I wouldn't open your mouth unnecessarily but if you happen to have to answer a question or get caught up in a conversation, keep the answers short but friendly and super polite. And kitchens LOVE racy jokes. It's best to not get caught up in these...at all. No matter how tempting. We're all devious, demented, sick, twisted individuals. You will have plenty of time to play with the big kids when the time is right.
4. If you open your mouth, do so strictly to ask a question.
5. When addressing the chef, there are three correct answers, "Yes chef.", "No chef" and "I don't know, chef". (If you haven't seen "Dinner Rush" you should probably see that movie before you stage as well.)
6. Know how to work a prep list (oven and stove items first, knife work second while the hot items cook. AKA, multi-tasking)
7. Make sure you understand every single task on your prep list before starting a project and consequently fuck it up. There are no stupid questions, just stupid mistakes. If your prep list has "Wedge Lemons" on it, do not just go grab some lemons and start hacking away like some cocky newly grad who thinks "I just had to wedge some lemons in school last week, I got this!" because chances are pretty good that you don't. First, how many lemons do you have to cut? Wedge them into four, six or eight? Trim out the center core or leave as is? What about the ends? Where should the wedges go when they're done? So even though you (and every other wanker in the world) has wedged lemons, you will most likely fuck it up if you don't ask for specifics. Now read the next item of your prep list, rinse, lather and repeat.
8. Work clean. This means table wiped, safe food handling practices, towels clean, gloves when touching raw meats, etc.
9. Work organized. Towels folded and clean, work from one container into another. Do not let shit clutter your station and pile on top of your cutting board. If you look like a mess the chef will think you're a mess. And chances are, he's right.
10. Work fast. Do not take all day on the lemons. Think the task through before your start (containers, knives, gloves, trash, towel, etc.), set up for the task and then crank it out.
11. Keep your knives sharp. Dull knives are pointless. Disregard the pun please.
12. Taste, taste, taste. Taste everything. Taste your food and taste everyone else's too. Do not taste one thing too much though. That's called snacking. AKA, eating someone else's mise. Not cool.
13. Do not hit on the staff. Yes, the waitstaff are hot - they're supposed to be. But fishing off the company pier is always a terrible idea. Take my word for it.
14. Do not accept any pay at the end of day one. You did not bring any value to the operation yet. Even if they offer a portion of the tips, ask them to split it amongst the rest of the team. You were probably more of a pain in the ass than a help. Understand that it is more work for them to have you and train you on day one than you return in quality work.
15. Do not lean or put your hands in your pockets!!! Ever! That just says "lazy". If you see everyone else doing something - anything - regardless of how minimal, you should be doing something too. You will probably feel out of place at this point because everyone else has a natural flow to their night and are accomplishing tasks left and right and you're left there holding the bag. That's ok, this is where rule #4 comes in. If you're not sure what to do, ask.
16. When you are done you're prep list, help someone else and/or ask the chef.
17. Never correct someone else's work. Even if the chef just barely showed you how to wedge the lemons and then you see someone else wedging lemons differently...shut up. Pretend like you didn't notice. That's not your job to notice what the real employees are doing - that's the chefs job.
18. Do not talk about your culinary school experience. If you read that sentence and thought in your head, "Why the hell not?!?! I learned a ton at school!" then I am in fact speaking directly to you. One, it makes you sound like you're twelve - and two, a lot of chefs (culinary grads and U.H.K. grads [Univeristy of Hard Knocks]) have a bad taste in their mouth about culinary students and culinary schools right now. That's mostly because the majority of you suck (reference rule #12). Now you're going to say, "But Eric, I graduated top of my class!" - congratulations, you're the tallest of the seven dwarfs. Yippee. You still suck, they just happened to suck worse.
19. If at some point throughout the night you realize that you actually don't suck and they suck way worse than you...then leave. And this might happen. It's entirely possible that through this process you realize that this is not the right for for you and that there's no way you could bring yourself to work in this shit hole. That's ok. Happens all the time. Just politely let the chef know that you greatly appreciate the opportunity but you don't feel that this is the right step for your career. Then excuse yourself and be super thankful they asked you to do a stage.
20. But if you stay, be the last to leave. Yup, FILO. First in, last out. Shows work ethic. And please do not bring up the "free labor" argument. You aren't worth jack shit until you can add value to the operation and that doesn't happen until you have had at least one solid day of training. Thus, the stage. Enjoy it and be grateful for the amazing opportunity.

the starting line

I leave tomorrow.  Technically later today, and of course I can't sleep. I never can before a big trip, and as far as big trips, this ranks up there. I have all the essentials: wine key, and wedding dress, and the plan will be wear one and use the other. I know I am approaching this as a get away, and as a start of a new life. 

My last day at work was yesterday, and all those things you ever want to say table side, boy did it feel good to say. 
myself: "Hi how are you today?"
guest: "We're ready to order"
myself: "ok, we're going to play a call and response, I'm going to say how are you today, and you're going to say I am fine-then I say wonderful, offer beverages and when I have greeted the rest of my tables I will return to place your order"

 That was it, just that one day of brunch and  I left out the same back door I've been coming into for the past 2 and a half years. And that last shift was a doozy.

NO SMILE, NO TIP :)

Someone actually left that on a check yesterday. Keep in mind , I was actually not the person who spent the majority with the table, I had a 13 top outside and an 11 top in the dining room so I was a bit occupied. ON TOP of that I spent most of my time answering crazy questions they had. "What kind of salmon do you have, is it wild or farm raised, how long do you smoke it for, what kind of salt do you use?"

Listen to me. Brunch is hard. Brunch is hard on anyone who works it, and anyone who wants it, if you work it there are a few known facts. 1. You never have enough coffee. ever ever ever. You brew regular in the decaf but you still don't have enough. 2. You run out of everything: no, I'm sorry we don't have any more biscuits/jam/sausage/burgers/homefries. and 3. People who order brunch are either too hung over from the night before or are really hungry or are too lazy to cook eggs themselves. So take all those hungry, hungover lazy people and you put them all in the same room, and you ask them 3 times if they want anything with their coffee like cream or sugar and after the third time they've grumbled "no" at you, you walk away. Then then flag you down to say "uh, can I have cream?". That's brunch.

And it doesn't end! You bring coffee and make decaf cappuccinos (oh, you want air that doesn't taste like anything or do anything for you? coming right up.) and then you run around looking for more maple syrup and then someone asks for xtra hollandaise, and then someone asks for less hollandaise, and then someone says "instead of ham can I have canadian bacon?" and you say "of course", through gritted teeth even though you know you're going to bring them the ham it already has and they won't know the difference, and then you look down at your watch and it's 11 am. You feel like you've been there all day but truth is an hour and a half has gone by and you're already exhausted.

So, I will take my wine key to Italy tomorrow and as each bottle opens I will remember not only to be grateful for things, like the most amazing man I am about to marry, and the mother I will be vacationing with in Florence, but that as of yesterday, I don't have to work brunch. 

I'm sorry face...but the nose must go.

I know I've talked about integrity of the food a bit here and there and it is so vital and crucial to the successful operation of a restaurant that I firmly believe it needs it's due time in the lime light. But tonight I'm going to write about another type of integrity that is as equally important to bring attention to; the integrity of the people. 

Today I got into the kitchen early.  It was around 12:30 or so and the rest of the team wasn't far behind me. The chef had instructed people to be here at 1:00 but you know that if you are ever going to feel secure and confident throughout your shift, if you want to brew a coffee or shoot the shit with the chef or take a minute to reorganize your box...then you show up early.  There's nothing that says it's mandatory and you certainly won't get paid for it but the alternative is that you start your day off rushed.  If you decide to be in the kitchen right on time (but definitely never late) then you immediately have to set up your station and start on prep. No time to get acclimated to the day. No time to get a mental head start on what's going on. And certainly no time to properly deal with situations that arise that you weren't prepared for. And people, when I say the unexpected and unplanned happens everyday...I literally mean everyday. Almost without fail.  Which brings us to today. 

The rest of the team came through the kitchen around 12:40 and immediately went upstairs to get dressed. One of the guys came back down stairs a few minutes later - still in his street clothes - walked around the restaurant shaking hands with everybody and briskly walked out the door. He had been fired. No one to replace him, no one to take over his prep list and not even a single person in line for an interview.  Why? Because he wasn't the right fit for the kitchen, the culture or the restaurant. Plain and simple.  

It's nothing personal, it's not saying he's an asshole and obviously it's not very compassionate but at the end of the day you cannot sacrifice the betterment of your team and your values as a chef to keep someone on the team that you don't feel "gets it". Yes, it cliquey. Yes, it's not a good "personnel management" technique and yes, maybe he could have been trained better and grown into the role. But the fact of the matter is that sometimes you just might not be the right fit for that environment or that particular structure.  

This is the restaurant industry and anybody who plans to make their career in this industry needs to come to terms with this fact before dragging other teams down as they try to mold establishments around their own misconceived notion of what constitutes fair business practices or decides to cling onto a team that they obviously don't mesh with just so they can collect a paycheck.  It's not only annoying but it's deteriorating to the team and the establishment.  Restaurants need teams that form their own living organism. A lot like Thundercats. WOAOOOO!

If you feel the industry is unfair or biased or harsh...then you should leave because first, you're right and second, the rest of us are ok with it. I, for one, do not want it to change. I've done the corporate dance and you know what? It attracts the bottom feeders of the industry and leaves you building teams with the undedicated, untalented, money driven, zero passion, washed up, paycheck collectors. That sucks. And then what ever drive you had for building a team with a solid foundation of integrity is slowly drained out of you ounce by ounce. 

And I built some great teams in the corporate world. But they were only great for that sector of the industry. Everyday I would have to manage something bizarre surrounding my employees. Rebecca can't work Tuesday because she has to help her aunt bring her cat to the vet; Rick showed up late because his alarm didn't go off on his phone but he swears he set it; Joe is pissed off at me because I asked him to clean the oven that is getting really gross and he doesn't want to work past his eight hour shift. Sam is talking shit about the company to anyone who will listen, including the customers, because his direct deposit didn't go through. Robert needs to be terminated because he has decided that it's faster to secretly smoke in a non-smoking area of the building - inside!   And yes, all of these have happened to me in real life. And that's seriously everyday. 

But come into the independent, fine dining sector and this stuff doesn't happen. In fact, you will be shunned for this type of behavior. The type of person who excels in the fine dining, polished, integrity based establishment is one who understands that the following traits are the bare minimum requirements. 

You aren't late...ever; you're not sick unless the chef tells you you are; you work hard; you're diligent and focused; your dedicated to the food, then the chef, then the business - and in that order; you're clean - both in the kitchen as well as your personal hygiene; you go out of your way to get along with the team and mold to their culture; you don't bother asking why the chef has requested you to do something unless you are genuinely asking so you can learn; you know that even though you have done this task so many times before at other restaurants, it probably is best to still keep it to yourself; you know that the other guys don't really care about your conquests and accomplishments at other places unless they ask.

And once all this happens you begin to see some fluidity form around the day to day process. Teams develop a communication style and habits and quirks that are uniquely their own. And everything just works. More tasks and projects and steps are taken without speaking than are taken through words.  And it feels good.  It feels good to know that you are valued in your kitchen and are helping to promote and drive the food forward. Once here, you will never go back to being a bottom feeder. Mostly because you just couldn't live with yourself. 

"EITHER GIVE ME MORE WINE OR LEAVE ME ALONE"

I LOVE when I am table side and end up talking about wine. I sold a lot tonight and every time I lean forward to start asking the questions "White or Red? Light or full? Dry or sweet? How adventurous are you?" I end up in this beautiful place with someone, and that's a place where they realize I am not here to judge them on their choice, simply to help them with it.  They trust me; they have to, I will either elate or betray them with my suggestions. There are few things that I absolutely sure of, and one happens to be that given a choice between going blind and going deaf I would say take both as long as I can speak. I talk a lot. So much it's my worst trait; I swear that saying: "don't speak unless you are spoken to" could be "Eva, can you speak a little less or you'll get spoken to". So it makes it a lot easier when I have to get to that place where someone needs to feel a bit more comfortable, let them know I'm not going to push anything on them they aren't looking for.

I have to admit, I'm sort of a fan of keeping people on their toes. It's the reason I get a kick out of the people who say "Wow, you know a lot don't you? You're fantastic!" And I smile knowing they saw this girl with the tattoos and wrote her off right away. So we talk about wine and this thing happens with their face every-time: They SEE me. Suddenly I'm more than just someone who stands next to them for about an hour tonight, I'm someone who has information they don't, not only that, information they need. Suddenly I am more interesting and fascinating.  How did I learn? What do I want to do with what I know?

To be honest, more often that not, it's just pass to the information along. Lets face it, the biggest problems in our world, politics, prayer, religion, teaching, parenthood, homelessness, etc...can become exaggerated and over thought  when people think they know all the answers. Or worse yet, when they actually do have some answers and choose to withhold information. I know the exact same as you.  Because what I have in wine knowledge, I lack in math (oh boy do I lack in math) What I lack in tact, I make up for in loyalty. We all have our strengths and weaknesses. I love talking to people about something I love and am passionate about. More importantly, I love making them feel like they BELONG. Wine is a scary subject, and everyone starts small with a subject, wether it's the first time you read socrates and decided to study philosophy or the first time you picked up an instrument and decided to learn how to play.

I often equate choosing a bottle of wine like going on a first date. You don't know the sight, smell, taste, or interest of what you're about to spend time with. You point your finger and hope for the best. Sometimes it's refreshing, you didn't expect that to be so good, and you smile hoping for more wonderful "bottles" like it. And sometimes, especially when you are not given the information you need you choose blindly and are so disappointed that it takes a while to have faith in the process the next time. I will give you all the information I have, since you and I are both here in this space where we trust each other. And I will smile when I watch you take that first sip and look up, that moment you see more than the tattoos, and start seeing someone just trying to help you have a wonderful time.

Please be advised, your chef is annoyed

Let's clear some stuff up.  Eva has been kind enough to bestow upon you lovely readers some quirks that irritate the shit out of servers. I can now officially say that I have cooked in the states, Europe and the Bahamas and turns out, the same shit irritates restaurant workers around the globe. Let's discuss these for a minute.  And I hope, if any of these actually apply to you that you will take a second to recognize that you are that quintessential asshole customer and change your behavior accordingly. If these don't apply to you then please join me in mocking these people openly.

You send back your food to get remade because:

1. Your steak is not cooked to the correct temperature when in fact it is perfectly cooked, exactly as you requested, you just don't know what the difference is between medium and medium rare and you refuse to ask. Oh, and no, "medium rare - medium" is not an actual temperature. Pick one.

2. You modify your meal when placing your order (no salt) and then send it back for a related reason (bland). You chose it, eat it.

3. You make up a fucking allergy that doesn't even exist just because you don't like an ingredient. 
No, lady, I'm sorry but you cannot be allergic to spinach. Just ask for no spinach. If we can do it, we will. 

4. You have an allergy but neglected to tell anyone when you made your reservation, again when you were seated or any of the ten separate times your server came to your table prior to us making your meal. 

5. You make up something that's not even remotely close to being on the menu and then decide you don't like it. Well that's why your little creation wasn't put on the menu, boy genius. 

And to go a step further and preemtively answer the next question that always surfaces after this conversation. No - no one in the kitchen does terrible things to your food when you send it back.  No matter how irritating you are. Do we mock you and call you horrible names? Yup. Sure do. In fact, chances are you have become the running joke of the kitchen for the rest of the night.  But in the 16 years I have been in the restaurant industry I have never witnessed another cook spit in - or do anything malicious - to a customer's food. 

The truth of the matter is that we're generally too busy to care THAT much about you. Sure, your an asshole for ordering your filet well done and you will absolutely get the worst possible cut we can find in the cooler but the reality is that we just want to get your food out the door as quickly as possible so we can get the ticket off the board. 

And that's the key to this whole situation.  The guys in the kitchen are busy. We've been prepping all day, trying to beat the clock so we can be open for service which is always a hustle, looking over our station as we go to make sure we will be set up and not have to step off line more often than necessary and thinking about the massive cleaning list we have lying ahead of us after we close. Then, inevitably, Pablo on sauté calls out sick - although thats code for, "I got shitty at that wedding I told everyone I was going to last night and can't come in now" - so now the whole line gets restructured and the chef has to get pulled off of expo and onto sauté which just stresses the shit out of the rest of the line because now he's watching every little step you make and tasting your food and slowing you down. 

And of course it's a Friday night and you're going to get crushed. Non-stop action, million miles per hour, tickets flying off the printer and you're thinking the whole time that you're going to lose your shit mentally and just snap and they'll probably find you in six hours naked in the woods talking to squirrels - but you keep your head down and just complete one motion after another, as fast as you can while trying super hard to not get yelled at by the chef.  

This entire time the chef is calling tickets from inside the line tonight as he's working sauté so he's calling them even faster than normal because he's slammed too.  Last you checked you were supposed to be working six chickens, two calamari appetizers, three burratas, an eggplant parmesan, four meatball apps, six spinach's for the grill station, toast for the sauté station...and the chef is still calling tickets - fast.  "Add one chicken to that " so that's seven chicken's all day and another spinach for grill. Shit, I'm out of dressing and cold plates. 

Ok, stop! 

So at this exact moment in time (and this is no exaggeration) I -as one guy- am supposed to be doing the following all at the exact same time: roast seven chickens and sauté seven spinach's (to go with that chicken) and then slide them all down to the grill station for plating, pull one calamari out of the fryer, season and plate it, dredge another order of calamari and get that in the fryer as soon as the first one comes out, plate three burratas - but they're supposed to be on cold plates and I'm currently out of cold plates so I have to go find some at the dessert station, get one eggplant parmesan in the oven, pan up three meatball appetizers plus get toast into the oven to go with them - I can't forget the extra toast for the sauté station or the chef will kill me, and make a side salad for the eggplant parmesan but I'm out of dressing so I have to run downstairs to the walk-in to refill my squeeze bottle. 

Now as I'm about to run off the line to get the dressing I hear a server come back in and make the following statement, "52 claims she's allergic to spinach. Can you re-fire this Roasted Chicken Dinner please?".  Can you see our frustration? If its a legit concern or valid reason, ok. But otherwise, there's just no excuse. 

So yes, if I thought spitting in your food would help eliminate this kind of scenario I would purchase a camel and keep it out back - but truth be told, it's not going to solve anything.  It's just going to slow me down on the line and I'm going to get so much more pleasure out of making fun of you for the rest of the night. "Hey, chef, can you grab me a water please...but with no ice? Yeah, allergy".

So please, try to keep this in mind when you're out at a restaurant. We're all at work, doing our best to make your downtime enjoyable. That's our job. You have your job during the day and I have no doubt that all you can think about while you're at work is getting out at 5:00 and the plans you have with Gary later that night. Well it's our job to make your night with Gary special and fun and awesome and something you get to brag to your co-workers about at the water cooler on Monday. But while you're having this wonderfully great time, please try really hard to apply some basic etiquette to your dining experience and not be a douche bag. It's really appreciated more than you could ever imagine.

The first rule about FOH club is...

Thank god there's no HR department is all I have to say sometimes. We are filthy, all the men women and teenagers that work in the business. We have the mouths of sailors, the libidos of 13 year old boys, the humor of the depraved, and the livers of very very very old men. 

We try to keep it down when we see a guest spilling out of her dress, or one too drunk to stand, but when you hear someone laugh to a coworker in a restaurant and say "Oh, 24 seat 3 right?" know we are making fun. maybe I shouldn't tell you this, but it's not because we are judging you as a person, just that those are our "water-cooler" stories. We don't have funny copier tales, no one pulls pranks on each others cubicle. we don't have "moral boosting exercises."  Instead we have jokes, yelling, teasing, and alcohol during work hours. 

We come up with games like : "If you were to have sex anywhere in the restaurant where would you least likely be caught?" And before you think about that, don't say walk-in or elevator, the 2 most used rooms in the place, say something like, that one storage space that we run to when we've run out of ALL forks in the building.

Or everyone's favorite "If there were no consequences to your actions how would you quit?" Break all the glasses? go under random people's number and fire all their next courses for them? Order things that are complicated to make for the wrong tables? Make rollups with 2 knives and no forks (this one I have witnessed) so that when you're gone you make your co-workers work that much harder?

We need to do something to stop the madness from slowly creeping in, and sometimes that is be the worst kind of person you can be. Tell sexist jokes, no not like: "Q.What do you do when the dishwasher stops working? A: Yell at her." I mean "Q. What do you call that useless flap of skin around a vagina? A. A woman." If you chuckled when you read this either you've heard it and still think it's kind of funny or you may have worked in restaurants.

 Look, we see all kinds, we see the people who declare "a life-threatening allergy to gluten" but order fries, as if it's not cooked in the same fry-alator as the calamari, which is breaded. 

We see the people "who ask for steaks very very lean with no salt and dressing on the side and then ask for BONE MARROW to accompany it. It takes all kinds.

We're simply looking for something to amuse us, something to make light of the fact that there are too many people who come in to eat, but don't come in and CARE. People who don't listen when we announce the specials and then ask us to repeat it,  the people that say they wouldn't like anything when we offer beverages at a table and when we come back to bring the rest suddenly ask at that INOPPORTUNE time for a beverage they suddenly realized they wanted.

So we joke. We flirt at work to pass the time, we see awkward dates, and people making out like no one notices them (which we most certainly do), we laugh, we jab, we poke fun, we use laughter as medicine, or alcohol, or both. At the end of the day we know there's the one guy to go to for jokes, the one girl to go to for some inappropriate phrase, that one chef who whips towels hard enough to leave a welt, and that we get it. 

Sometimes you have to be a little fucked up to fit in.

Rose colored glasses don't make things prettier, just red.

So as it turns out, as many of you assume, but few will experience, zero connectivity to the world is a real downer.  

I think that for many years I have had this romantic vision of seclusion and restfulness going hand in hand and merrily skipping through giant fields of daisies together.  Truth be told, when they met in real life they couldn't have been worse together. Oh sure they played nice in the beginning. One toying with the other and playfully suggesting they should court each other and the opposite wistfully sweeping away her hair as if to say, "I would agree but that would be too forthcoming and I'd hate to be held liable to such accusations down the road". 

Good thinking, Lincoln.  Cause damn you seclusion; you spiteful, sneaky, snake-in-the-grass. You had me fooled all along.  I actually had fantasies of porch swings, some lazy, chubby mutt chewing on a stick, fall leaves covering the un-raked lawn, the smell of the leaves creating that fresh autumn musk in the air.  And the biggest, most attractive part of this fantasy is that feeling of a stress free life. The omnipresent feeling that can so often take over your entire body, mid fantasy, and give you this illusion that all can be well and safe and secure if only you were left alone.  If only you could be in your own world, far away from the monotony of the cycles and systems and structures you have built for yourself.  Completely disregarding that those systems are there mostly to provide convenience and comfort. Remove the comfort and you get less convenience and thus more stress.  But alas, the romantic vision was so bright and the dream so vivid. 

Well my friends, eat up and eat plenty cause your pal Eric is "living the good life"...except I can't really tell anyone about it.  I can't call my beautiful fiancé to talk about her day, or email Mom to say hi and see how the farm is doing, or send a text to my sister to check on her recovery or log into Facebook to send an update.  No Twitter, no LinkedIn, no Skype.  What has this world come to?!?! Or is the real question, what has our (and by "Our" I mean "My" and "Yours" simultaneously)  world come to.  Where despite the painstaking lengths I have gone to to achieve solidarity, I find myself yearning for the connection.  That despite the perfect set up to spend time with myself, in a country amongst hundreds of thousands of people whom I don't know, with a language I don't speak and a complete lack of responsibility, I still find it extremely difficult to slow everything down, let go, relax and disconnect.  If even for a moment.  Is it the old adage, "We crave what we don't have"?  I'll tell you as soon as I figure it out and I can post it on Facebook.

This is not YOUR house

This will come off as a rant. Sometimes there just isn't any other way.

I am always fascinated by people that come into a restaurant and assume that because I want you to feel welcome, I want you to feel excused to take liberties you would never otherwise take in other environments.

Don't move the furniture. I'm serious. The amount of people that come into a restaurant and move around MY FURNITURE astounds me. This is my house. I spend more time here than you ever will, no matter how good of a regular you are. Hell I spend more time here than my own house, so for all intensive purposes, this is MY HOUSE. If you were to invite someone into your home, as a guest, and they walked into your living room and moved the couch over 3 feet and put the lamp over in the corner what would you do?
You would be pissed. So stop moving the furniture. I get it, you said you'd be a party of 4 but you forgot you posted on facebook that becky's last day was tonight so now you are really a party of 7. That does NOT mean you get to take that table right next to you and slide it over yourself. You didn't even bother to pick up the damn thing you just dragged it over, so you bounced a water glass off the table and it shattered into a million pieces so now I have to clean up after you AND be pissed you decided to move into my section.
Has anyone in their right mind ever walked into a lawyers office, a dentist office, the fucking Laundromat and decided to move around the furniture???? 
no. And i'll tell you why: because you don't have the right to. I live in this place, I know table 12 is precarious, it's set just the way it is because that one spot works for it, it has 2 sugar packets under one leg but it's stable and workable until some idiot that thinks they have a right to drags it over to table 13. 
So now the thing wobbles like crazy and while you are trying to get someone to fix it I am shaking my head at your ignorance.

I don't come into your office to tell you how to re-decorate, try not to do the same at mine.

Where has the integrity gone?

I'm 32. That's old enough to know a couple things:

1. I'm getting too old to be considered appropriately reckless and irresponsible...so all poor decisions made from this point forward must be solely owned by said 32 year old individual. 

2. I am now old enough to be able to fully appreciate the experiences that I encounter. All things from great food to well crafted cocktails and fine wines. All things I would have never been able to comprehend, let alone appreciate at that younger, quintesential "backpack Europe" age. 

In addition, I have been noticing my ambition weaning.  Not surrounding food as a whole...just surrounding food for other people's profit.  Because frankly they don't tend to appreciate what they are getting and I'm tired of bailing ungrateful, ignorant people out of whatever culinary debacle they have gotten themselves into.  I've done this for years and it is honestly getting tiring.  To the point where I have just stopped caring.  Why should I care more about the integrity of your business and your food than you do?

Years ago I met a guy who has had the greatest impact and influence on my career of anyone.  I met Paul Booras in late 2007 and immediately fell in love with his way of thinking.  It's completely unconventional, abrasive, arrogant and dead on the money accurate.  His methods are old school and more often than not they are seen as attacking and demeaning.  Truth be told, they are all of those things but they're always right.  Every time.  But his input and his viewpoints make you reevaluate your own thought process and your own methods before continuing on whatever half-assed attempt you were about to embark on.  And it was because of this that he ended up shaping a lot of the way I think about food.  New concepts and philosophy's surrounding techniques and application.  Different ways to think about entire cultures and their perspective on food and ingredients.  Entirely new procedures for dishes I've cooked a thousand times and could have sworn I rocked at making.  

And all of a sudden I begin to feel alive with excitement as I see my career and my new relationship with food taking form.  I can envision the many different areas and avenues this new found passion and respect will take me. And then as I begin to hold myself with integrity I also foolishly expect others to do the same for themselves and I am continuously met with sheer disappointment.

I realize as I start applying this new manner of thinking to my food that it is actually not a widely accepted practice and that most people (customers and restaurant owners alike) just seem to want the same old shit.  Chicken parmesan with panko and sliced provolone, bolognese with ground beef, sour mix from the gun, bleached french fries from the bag...the list goes on and on.  And at some point you have to stop and ask yourself what the fuck you are doing this for? Why am I holding the food of your restaurant in higher regard than you are? Is it because I'm the chef and that's what you pay me for? OK, cool, then give me carpe-blanch. Let me do as I see fit so we can generate a bit of respect for your establishment and actually turn a profit. But for the love of god...don't fight with me over the small steps necessary to start moving your shit hole of a restaurant in the right direction.  Because frankly I am just not going to have another conversation about why I refuse to buy tartar sauce.  That is called a" waste of my time" and if we need to have that conversation than once again, I am working for another washout who just doesn't get the big picture.  And I can't do that anymore. It's exhausting. 

So cue Europe.  The hopeful cure to my ailment. No promises but I figure at the very least it can't hurt. Maybe I'll meet another chef or eat at a restaurant that will show me reignite the spark of hope. I'm in search of the holy grail, the north star, that moment or experience that will reinforce the belief that integrity behind food can be an organic process. That it doesn't have to be synonymous with pretension. That the general public are slowly drifting othe right direction and will appreciate quality ingredients, simple presentations and can recognize proper execution. it's becoming increasingly clear however that it is entirely possible that I may need to build this model for myself. At the end of the day, I am only cooking for myself anyway. 

It's almost fall, and soon my idea of what comforts me food wise will change. In the summer It's been corn on the cob for as long as I can remember, as a kid you left the butter on a plate in the fridge with that all too familiar half moon indent, waiting for the next time boiled corn would slide over the top.

But fall: fall is soup. Broccoli and cheddar, butternut squash, and french onion. If I can somehow incorporate cheese into my soup i'm even happier. Come to think of it , if there is not at least some component of cheese during a meal it doesn't really seem complete to me. I've exclaimed out loud while eating a cheese board and french onion soup simultaneously "this is the reason I could never be vegan." And usually the person who overheard my rant agrees. When I say cheese I am discussing things that come from a wheel, made by hand, at the very least made with care, nothing wrapped in individual plastic, or god forbid, out of a can.
Sometimes when i think of cheese, I imagine farmers in the hills of the alps, milking the cows and making the cheese that will supply them through the winters as the are trapped on the mountains with nothing but their flock. I think about the people that make cheese by hand, that lift each mold like it was a wounded bird, washing it by hand, turning it over and placing it back on a rack, waiting for it to grow into what it will eventually become.

I got distracted. I meant to say that as the summer is ending I am thinking about what else it is that I want to have. Some people mark the turn of seasons by school, by vacation, by sports teams, by clothing. I think of the food. I know every year there is that wonderfully short period where ramps are everywhere. We just ended most of the corn season, and soon I will make squash soup, and cut acorn squash in half, scoring it down the middle, filling it with butter and brown sugar and eating it way before it cools. 
My seasons turn with the food, I look forward to the next round of crops or shellfish, or lambs, and am reminded oftentimes about where this came from. We used to farm. And when I saw we, I don't just mean Eric and I, or Americans, I mean WE as people, we at one point relied on sun and water and soil and time and when those first sprouts came up, we were so hopeful, of what it would become.
I love this city, I love cities in general, but oftentimes I catch myself in spring noticing the dandelions pushing their way up in the cracks in the pavement and I am reminded people used to look forward to that every year. When the years had it's own calendar, marked not by months, by by sustenance.

The box that shall not be named

So I have so much to talk about but I feel for this post it is best to revert to the very basics. The very basic as to what brought me here. Why I feel I should be important enough, at least in your eyes, to be writing a blog worthy of reading.  That's not to say that at the end of this you will agree with my opinions or even agree that I do in fact write a blog worthy of reading, but at the very least I am hopeful that these posts will help people to some degree or provide an alternate perspective. I'm not sure of what that might be but maybe it answers some questions you have been dying to ask about the restaurant industry or maybe it gives you a forum to ask other unrelated questions that you think either of us can help you on.  Maybe it just makes you think. Whatever it does, I hope it helps.  Because for the love of god...it is apparent that the vast majority of people I have met need help with food.

And that's not to say that you're all bad. Not at all.  Just most of you. And why is this important? Because food is the equivilant to what makes our cultures and societies function. I know there are obviously many other subjects that tend to play a role in our day to day lives but let's be honest here for a second.  The topic of food is a subject that is discussed every single day, several times a day with everyone we know, like and love?

"What are we going to eat?", "Where do you want to go?", "How was that restaurant last night?", "Did you hear who just opened up a new restaurant?".  Our culture, our livelihood, our upbringing, our emotions, our childhoods, our memories and our passions are constantly conjoured up through food. And yet, despite all of the significance that food plays in our lives we decide to degrade as many aspects surrounding this wonderful subject as we possibly can.

We talk down to our servers, buy shitty food, open terrible restaurants, teach our children the wrong way to handle food, abuse animals, go on crazy unhealthy diets...the list goes on and on. To the point that it's endless. The fact is, that as a country...nay, shall I be so bold as to say the world...we disrespect the importance that food, as a single, culture defining mechanisism, plays in our lives.  To this I say shame on us.

Culture is based in three things; art, music and food. FOOD! This, apparently simple category of substance has taken up one third of the equation needed to form entire cultures. To further this point, it is also known that mankind needs three things to survive..clothing, shelter and nourishment. Again, ONE THIRD of the equation!!! And yet the world consistently degrades this subject, misrepresents the importance, under estimates the necessity and miseducates our youth on this entire subject. What the fuck?!?!

So there you have it. The reason why I am on my quest of culinary truths. I want to find how food is handled, treated and regarded by other cultures. I am secretly hopeful that it is with a higher regard than our culture but I guess that has yet to be determined. Sort of.

"How are you doing this evening?"

I was walking around Portland Maine today after getting some tattoo work done and I saw a woman who used to come into an old restaurant I worked at. Lunch was iced-tea, dinner was white wine. She liked her fish cooked all the way through, and never ate the entire shepherds pie. It hit me that it was almost like seeing someone you dated briefly, if she turned around would she recognize me? I have worked in so many places, known so many people that have come into my restaurants that it's like having a little black book of people you know but don't know you all that well. Most servers I imagine feel like that. We spend countless hours knowing things about our guests; allergies, birthdays, table preferences, wine tastes, favorite dishes, etc....but I know if I asked that woman I saw if she remembered me the answer would probably be no.
I get to be part of the experience, the meal, the date, the proposal, but as a stagehand rather than a lead singer. I make sure you get your food the temperature you want, the drink the way you like, but when you move, when i leave that restaurant, it may take you a while to put the pieces together "oh, where's that server with the tattoos?"
Every person that sits at my table proceeds to start a relationship with me. It's a first date for us in a way, and first impressions mean a lot. So every time I approach that table and start the sentence I will use dozens of times that night, hundreds of times in my lifetime: "Hi, how are you today/tonight?" I take a deep breath. Usually we are just meeting each other, and that first few minutes tells me a lot about you.
 If I say "Hello how are you tonight?" And your response is "I'll have a diet coke" then I know not only are you impatient, you didn't listen to me. You probably won't listen to me the rest of the night either, and when it comes time to tell you the specials I will make a point to look at you while you talk to the person next to you and rehash the conversation you had with whats-her-face about that thing that happened that time. When I ask you what you will be having as an entree you will look at me and say "Are there any specials?" because you didn't listen to me as I could tell you wouldn't when we met.
If I say "Hello, how are you?" And your response is "Great, how are YOU?" Then I instantly like you. You've noticed there is a real live person standing in front of you and the easiest way to make sure you have a great time is to treat me with a little respect and to be nice. A word to all those that dine out: JUST BE NICE. A word to all those that serve the guests who dine out: JUST BE NICE. A word to anyone starting a relationship: JUST BE NICE. Remember that there are enough terrible things happening in the world, that the easiest thing to do to make sure they aren't happening everywhere is to try to be kind. 

Anyone who works or has worked in the service industry will tell you one of 3 things:
1. It's super fun
2. It's rewarding
3. It's fucking hard.

Those of us who have chosen to STAY in the restaurant industry have done so because of all three. At the end of each shift, I can usually figure out which one of the three my night has leaned toward. Hopefully it's been more of the first 2 and less of the 3rd, but some nights it's more just fucking hard. Which is why it can be so refreshing to have someone sit at my table and straight up be nice to me. It goes a long way, and it's a lot easier than some people think.

(cont.)

(so apparently the iPad is not the best choice for blogging.  Good to know. Tends to erase and cut off your entries.  Ugh)
...with two slices of deli ham inside. No joke. No mayo, no lettuce...nothing. Ok, I know I'm in a different culture and maybe they do things differently than we do but for the love of everything that is holy...don't serve shit. It's not the foods fault.

Are you taking the piss at me?!?!

Well the mid-life crisis culinary tour has finally launched! Thank you to all who have encouraged this mischievous behavior and enabled me to dissolve my life entirely and fly to a country I've never been to with a language I don't speak to live with people I don't know. Scary, exciting, nerve racking and a once in a life time opportunity. I promise I won't let you all down.  Apparently I have several people back at home living vicariously through me right now so I best make the most of it.

I arrived yesterday at Jo and Nick's house. A lovely British couple living in Saint Gaudens, France. They have a beautiful 1934 classic French house that they have been renovating for the past ten years. I know that sounds like a long time but they, unlike most Americans, are taking their time and only renovating what they can afford, little by little and all on their own. They are very hard workers and their home is beautiful.  I will try to take some photos tomorrow and post for people to see.

So here's my first discovery that sent me for a bit of a spin.  Turns out they have stores here that are more or less exactly like Wal-Mart! A huge box store with way to much shit crammed inside and none if it worth a damn.  Everything from avocados to socks to jumper cables. So very disappointing France. This whole time I had this impression that the French were snooty and stuck up but at least it was for a reason.  Exceptional bread, pride of their food, rustic farm to table style meals everywhere.  That is not the case so far. I don't want trouble out the entire country but so far it has been less than snob-worthy.

On my way toSaint Gaudens I had to stop in Toulouse to get the train but had a couple hours to kill so I snuck across the street to this charming bistro with seating on the patio and big open windows.  place wasn't overly busy but it was only 11:30 so the lunch rush hadn't really come through yet. For me however it felt more like 8:00 at night due to the traveling so I was starving.

As I walk into the bistro I see the bartender walking around setting the tables. I also notice there isn't a sign stating whether you should seat yourself or wait to be seated. I know how annoying it is when a customer assumes they should seat themselves and then gets pissed when you don't see them hidden in the corner and they end up waiting. So I stand in the dining room and wait while this guys sets the
tables. After standing there like an asshole for what felt like 20 minutes I walk up to him and ask if I can grab a table. He says to go ahead and walks away. From this point on I proceeded to have the worst service followed by the worst meal I think I've ever had. And in France no less!!! I ordered a glass of wine and it came out in a strange latte style glass with not a drop more that three ounces. That took him ten minutes to complete. I placed my order and he was out of the croque Monsieur. I asked what he suggested instead and he said that the ham sandwich was nice. Perfect, I said.  I'll have that. Cue another twenty minutes and with not a single letter of exaggeration I am given ano eight inch piece of baguette, cut open with 

Eric tells me we're supposed to have an introductory post so that anyone who may read this will know what's going on. Or who we are, or something, i don't know, it was early and I didn't sleep much and i have a hard time staying on topic.
Eric is currently flying from Boston, Massachusetts to Paris France on what he will probably jokingly refer to from now on as the "great mid-life crisis culinary tour of 2012". Don't listen to him, he's only 31 and has many many more years of being ridiculously opinionated to go.
As he is flying (safely i can only hope) across the ocean, I am still here in Boston. So at the start of all this we are in two very different places. Geographically at least. When it comes to food and drink and everything associated with that we are usually in the exact same place. That place being "yes please, I'll have more of that. and that, and that over there" On our first date we had a picnic of charcuterie, cheese, fruit and wine, and when i turned to him and said "this just made me hungrier" we headed to lone star taco bar (allston, mass) to have one of each taco on the menu as well.
I'm front of the house. Oh, i've dabbled in back, grill cook, dishwasher, prep cook, and one time i worked at the Municipal Ice rink in Norwich CT and ate way too many orders of mozzarella sticks to be good for my picky teenage skin. 
But for the most part I look people in the eyes and nod yes, or shake no, and am as sweet and as nice (usually) as anyone can be to people that come into a building expecting someone to wait on them hand and foot. I got this. I've been doing it awhile and it turns out from what some people tell me, I'm good great at it.
I am the person you look at when you say things like "I know it's not on the menu, but...." or "I came here 4 years ago and you had a special that night, do you have that same special tonight?" I do judge you, how can I not, but know I do this for more than just the good stories. I love being remembered, it's purely selfish, when you have a GREAT meal at a GREAT restaurant, what do you do? You usually tell people. And I know I want to be part of the story.