Quiet Storm
Roxie 77

Pittsburgh ?
Bi and Proud ?

Monday, Oct. 04, 2004

*****SPECIAL NOTE: hello, person who has been reading through my archives from the Roxie77 message board! Please send me a note in the guestbook or email and introduce yourself! (end special note)

Zoot alors! French Brunch was fantastique! The food turned out very nicely, and lots of people came and enjoyed it, but we didn't feel too overwhelmed. We sold out of everything, thanks in large part to a group of close to 20 people(of assorted ages) who showed up around 1:30 and just cleaned us out of whatever was left. That was nice.
However, I got into a slight funk around the creperie. I made a big batch of crepes ahead of time so that I would not have to stand at the stove making crepes to order....but the crepes were so staggeringly popular that I did, indeed, end up standing at the stove making crepes to order. Merde. It left me feeling old and cranky by the end of the day, especially on top of the excesses of Thursday and the slovenliness of Friday and the frenzied activity of Saturday and the getting up at 5am to make the starter crepes in the first place. But, of course, this is what I want---for people to love what I do and demand more. I just wish I was either 10 years younger or thousands of dollars richer so I could afford a personal masseuse after such rigorous cooking extravaganzas. Mais non.
The early early morning part was pure bliss--alone in the kitchen with the EYES OF ALICE COOPER playing, a cup of strong coffee(in a lidded cup, thank you very much!), rolling pain au chocolat. Then Herbie got there and it was a different kind of bliss---bustle-y and together. We had a pretty good crew and didn't have to chase servers down to take out orders like we sometimes do---that can make the kitchen experience a royal drag. And lots of people came in to tell us it was good, which is always a pleasure. All in all, a soul-renewing brunch, although a body-wrecking one.
After brunch I stayed and got things ready for the evening shift, including caramelizing a big pot of onions since I had used a bunch for brunch. This morning I found them left sitting out on the counter by the evening person, and that almost made my blood boil. No, I don't REALLY want to be there myself all the time. (especially not at lunchtime, when things get really crazy) But when I find caramelized onions left out on the counter overnight, or unlabeled loaves of freshly baked bread stacked haphazardly on top of the oven, or countless other little thoughtless mistakes, I immediately think "I'll just do it all myself!!"
You might remember, if you are a longtime reader of this diary, that I often got that feeling when I was in bookstore world. I have learned to acknowledge my problem with delegation and I have worked on it. But when people do little thoughtless things, it drives me up a wall. And there is really NOTHING to be done about it, short of saying make sure all the food goes into the refrigerator at the end of the night, which is just silly. I don't really know what the answer is. Everyone makes mistakes(even I have been known to go into the kitchen before leaving for the night to find out that I didn't turn off the air conditioner, or left the sink light on, or something) but some mistakes are bigger than others. And some are repetitious. And some are just plain wrong.
End bitching.
After the fabulous brunch and the onion caramelizing extravaganza, I came home and collapsed into bed for about an hour. Eventually woke up enough to watch a little Brutally Live, in order to get the blood flowing. Then walked down the street for a nice dinner and beer at the Sharp Edge. I ordered what I thought was going to be a big platter of barbecued chicken with a little side of ribs. It ended up being a big platter of ribs with one piece of chicken, which was just dandy. It satisfied my craving for barbecued chicken and left me with plenty of ribs for lunch. Also had a Guiness, which longtime readers will also recognize as MEDICINE. Yum. A pleasant walk home and then we watched the premier of Desperate Housewives, which wasn't as good as I had hoped. But I'll watch it again.
This morning I found out that Jimmy Carter's birthday was Friday. I spent Jimmy Carter's birthday in bed recovering from Marc Bolan's birthday. There's some poetic justice in there, I'm sure.

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