Quotable Quotes

"Coming to supermarkets across the country: presliced peanut butter. Yeah, this is perfect for busy moms who are trying to juggle a family and a drinking problem."

~Craig Kilborn

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Seriously, Get A Room

I made a dash into the grocery store this morning because, of all things, I ran out of coffee. Which is the equivalent of running out of, oh, air. (Or lemons!)

So I'm in the coffee aisle when I hear this man moaning. Loudly.

"Ohhhhh...."

"Ohhhhh, Baby. Ohhhhhh, down a little bit."

I had to kind of shake my head a bit to make sure I wasn't hearing things. My friend "Karla" (name changed for privacy purposes) happend to be getting coffee too and she said, "Did I just hear that?" And I said, "Well, I think so, but..."

"Ohhhh, yes. Do it a bit harder down a bit...."

Karla said, "What the Hell? Are they filming a damn porn in the next aisle??" We both just stood there, eyes darting back and fourth not quite knowing what to do. "Screw it", I said, "I am going around the corner to find out what the Hell is going on."

There in the canned goods aisle was a man bent over at the waist with his wife standing behind him rubbing his back. When she turned to see me standing there, she said, "Oh, my poor husband is having a back spasm and I just told him to bend right over and I would take care of it."

Yeah, whatever.

Get a damn room.

Freaks.

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For The Love of God, People!! They Are Hashbrowns, Not Gold Nuggets!

Being The Food Whore I really do my best work at night, as all Ladies of the Night do. So it's rare that I venture Food Meccas like Costco during the daylight hours. But today I had a crisis (ran out of bright pink Post-It Notes and printer ink) so I had to make an exception.

And ohhh what a mistake that was.

Apparently Costco is a hotbed of free food samples during the day and by all evidence I gathered today, people turn into complete and total morons when free food is offered. I mean, I knew this after my very first trick some years ago, but I never dreamed tiny little white cups filled with food would drive people to utter madness.

There I was, minding my own business checking out 5lb. buckets of yogurt when I got sucked into the current of traffic that took me into Free Food Aisle. I tried to get out but there was no turning back as the entire populace of the Peoples Republic of Costcoistan had descended into the narrow aisle-way that I forever from this point on refer to as Dead Man's Alley.

I tried to maneuver my cart to the far right so I could just peacefully make my way through when WHAM!, someone slammed into the back of my leg. I turned around to see what the Hell was going on and a crazed woman said, "I am sorry, but the hashbrowns are ready and I have been dying to try them!" And she was dead serious. She was on a mission, along with the other 7 people riding her tail to get to those damned hashbrowns.

For the love of God, people! They are hashbrowns, not gold nuggets!

I managed not to swear at her (which I thought was really big of me) and instead just try to find my way through it all when it became very clear that I was trapped between the hashbrown samples and the Boca Burger samples which were just coming out of the little toaster oven and were causing mayhem. When I realized I was trapped, a little bead of sweat started to fall down my forehead, which pissed me off because now my insanely out of control hair was going to go into full frizz mode and make me look like Marge Simpson after an hour on the treadmill. And the reason I started to sweat was because I have a dreadful case of claustrophobia - which I am sure I need therapy for but I am totally not paying some self-help guru $200 an hour to tell me I have issues with people crowding me - I already know this.

I wasn't the only one trying to get free. The man in front of me was on a mission for beer and hot dogs and had his beer but was caught short of getting his hotdogs (Hebrew national, Roy) when the first Boca Burger made it onto the bun. He got shoved into the glass doors of the cooler and turned around to look at me and I said, "Make a break for it, buddy, save yourself!"

"Fuck this shit", he said, and he grabbed his dogs and started going into full offensive mode and made a path for me to follow. (His choice of words and manly brawn have made him my new best friend.) I ended up clipping the heel of a really nice Costco employee and apologized profusely. "Don't worry about it, ma'am, this is nothing. Just hurry and go before the chocolate chip cookies are finished baking on the next aisle."

Once I was out of the aisle I took a minute to wipe my brow and recoup when I noticed people charging behind me.

Those damned cookies were done.

I soooo wanted a lemon drop by the end of my shopping trip but even I, The Food Whore, have my standards.

I totally never drink on days that don't end in "Y".
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I Won't Even Get Out Of Bed For $5.00

As The Food Whore, not only do I have to know my food, I also have to have great people skills. Now, I realize that I drop F-Bombs in this place like beads at Mardis Gras, and, well, I have a tendency to be confrontational in the grocery store and places like Costo, but I promise I have really good people skills.

But people really REALLY push the limits sometimes.

I got a call on Saturday for a trick on July 3rd. First off, hello, that's less than 6 weeks from now. Now, if you just got engaged the night before and are fast-tracking the wedding for purposes other than being horny, I will cut you some slack. But this guy has been engaged since Christmas and is just now calling for a caterer.

Anyway...

In looking at my calendar, I realized that was a holiday weekend and we blocked that weekend out so our staff could enjoy a holiday for a change. But I thought I would listen to his request to see if it was something The Partner and I would be willing to do alone. And boy am I glad I did.

The first words out of his mouth were, "We're both teachers, and we're on a tight budget." Greeaaat. "We have a couple requests. Renting china is very expensive so we would like to know if we could use your china for nothing. Also, we have a budget of $5.00 per person."

At this point I wasn't sure if I was being Punk'd and Ashton Kutcher was going to come out of his hiding place and laugh himself silly at me or if this guy had just taken a big ole toke off his crack pipe.

I think it was Linda Evangelista who said she never got out of bed for less than $10,000 a day. I can safely say I don't get out of bed for $5.00 per person.

To add insult to injury, the venue was the place we catered at couple months ago where the kitchen was nothing more than a small sink in a closet and smelled like dead cat.

"Sir, I need to be up front with you and tell you that we have blocked out that weekend to give our staff a holiday weekend. And it's only fair to tell you that there is no way we can meet your budgetary needs."

"Well, can we at least use your china for free?"

Lemon drops all around. I'm buying.
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A Food-Whore-A-Mercial

I never wanted my blog to be a place where I make shameful plugs for products. Although I have to feel I have single-handedly bumped stock in the lemon drop industry.

And I am not much for kitchen "gizmos" but I have found a nice little trinket that I am weirdly excited about.

Since I like doing things by hand I have always extracted juices the old fashioned way. I have a wooden citrus reamer that I use for small doses of things like limes or lemons and I have a glass juicer handed down to me by my grandmother that I use for larger quantities. I never saw a reason to upgrade.

But last weekend when I was at the BBQ (see below) The Hostess was using an electronic citrus juicer like this:

It's the Black & Decker Citrus Mate Plus and for the bargain price of $19.95, this little unit is a great find.

You simply cut the citrus fruit of choice in half, and with little pressing effort the juice magically appears in the container. That's it, no twisting, no risk of carpal tunnel, just a little pressure and viola!

Now, like I said, I am not a fan of gadgets. Give me a good knife, a nice pan and a wooden spoon and I am a happy girl. But this thing is small, easy to store and a nice little addition to my tools. Why would I spend all that time on the manual version when I can get fast results with this baby. I mean, I may be a Whore, but I am not an idiot.

I will still use my wooden reamer for small jobs. But when I need large quantities of juice, I will use the modern convenience now in my possession.

How wonderful it will be for making my tequila lime chicken or other marinades for things like citrus grilled shrimp.

Or even, a nice big batch of lemon drops.

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The Food Whore Has Been Banned From These Premesis

I love the grocery store.

I do.

I mean, it's a place which sells food!

Now, I understand that grocery shopping isn't in the Top Ten List of Fun Ways To Spend Your Day, but it's not horrible, either.

So I wish all the crabby, snobby, nosy people would stay the Hell away from me when I shop.

I got a last minute panic call for a picnic luncheon so I had to buy approximately 10 cases of Coke products this morning. Which, of course, brought all sorts of stares in my direction.

So I am at the check-out line and two mocha-holding, Louis Voutton purse - sporting snobs were standing behind me in their workout leotards buying their bottled waters and croissant. The were eyeing me as I treated myself by ripping into my new bag of Kookaburra Liquorice (Licorice from Austrailia is THE BEST) and one of them said, "I really will never understand mothers who feed their children soda pop like it's water. The other friend then said, "Oh, I agree. I mean, how much Coke should one family buy in a day?"

I shit you not.

I was in pretty good spirits after gnoshing in my chewey licorice so I was going to ignore it but instead I turned, smiled and said, "Yeah. I hate jobless housewives who have nothing better to do than spy in people carts and pass judgement on things they know nothing about. You spilled mocha on your shirt, by the way."

One day there will be a sign on my store that says, "The Food Whore Has Been Banned From These Premesis."

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The Food Whore Drink Of Choice

For The Friend in Baltimore and The Friend in Floria soon-to-be Hawaii.

There are a lot of different ways to make these but this recipe was given to me by The Friend Who Owns The Flower Shop.

1 1/2 ounces vodka (I use Absolute Citron)
1/2 ounce Mrs. T's Sweet & Sour
1 teaspoon sugar
3/4 ounce freshly squeezed lemon juice
Ice cubes
Sugar for dipping the glass
Lemon Peel

Mix the vodka, Sweet & Sour, sugar, and lemon juice in a cocktail shaker filled with ice. Shake well. Pour strained liquor into sugar-rimmed martini glass and garnish with lemon peel.

It's lemonicious!

Hm. I think one sounds good right now.

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I Get It Honestly

The Mother - the Queen of all Food Whores - is an amazing woman. She's beautiful, intellingent, strong, generous to a fault, kind, and the list goes on.

She owns a restaurant and tonight I popped in to visit her.

A couple came in with unruly children and allowed said children to run through the dining room. (People are idiots) I was in the office and The Mother was peeking out the door and mumbled, "One more step you little fuckers and it will be your last."

So it's totally not my fault I am the way I am.
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Not The Only Idiot Magnet

Our friends called us and invited us over to a BBQ last night. The only request was that I bring nothing since it was time I had a break.

So I followed orders, prepared nothing, and showed up only with a hostess gift.

I was greeted with a freshly-shaken lemon drop.

I love these friends.

(Just to be clear, this is an entirely different crowd than the one with Icky Salad Girl so there was no fear of having to encounter food poisoning or making up grandiose stories about how I can't eat spam on odd days.)

I found a cushy seat on the patio - right next to the snack table - and spent the evening luxuriating in the relaxation that only a cushy chair, good food, and a never ending supply of lemon drops can bring.

I did get off my rump long enough to go in the kitchen for more napkins when I witnessed a situation that made me shake my head and realize that I am not the only idiot magnet out there.

The Hostess was in the kitchen when Ungrateful Guest arrived to the party. Apparently, earlier in the week, The Hostess had made a delicious batch of brownies and brought them over to Ungrateful Guest's house as a kind gesture. Well, in Ungrateful Guest's hand was the half-eaten pan of brownies. "You asked me to bring a dessert so I just brought the rest of these. Thank you for making them for us, but my family just really doesn't care for nuts in our brownies. So instead of going to the trouble of making something new, I thought everyone here could just finish these off and then you have your pan, back."

Ungrateful Guest walked outside while The Hostess stood there dumbfounded. She looked at me and said, "Did that just happen?"

I raised my eyebrow and licked a little bit of the sugar off the rim of my glass. "Yeah. Uh huh."

"Did she just actually bring back the brownies I made for her family???"

I sipped a little from my glass, "She sure did."

"What the Hell?"

I reached for the martini shaker and poured her a lemon drop. "Welcome to the Idiot Magnet Club, sweetie. You totally need a blog."

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The Return of Bridezilla and Groomonster

It never ceases to amaze me how one person wearing a white dress and a veil (Cathedral length to the reception - for The Friend in Boston) can cause such angst for so many people.

Bridezilla is 21 years old and horny.

That's why she got married today.

She did not want to break the vows of her faith by having pre-marital sex so she and The Groomonster fast-tracked the wedding from Hell.

The entire family has been in upheaval over this day and it showed on the faces of half the people in the room. To give you just a small example, the wedding programs were just done today. Groomonster's mother had to pick them up from the printer on her way to the church.

We were very specific about what we would be providing and what she needed to provide.

"I just want a meal of light appetizers."

"No, my friends will do it. I promise."

No punch pourers. We had to deal with that.

No cake cutters. The mother of the bride had to deal with that.

No friends to clear tables. The grandmother of the bride gathered her friends.

"No fucking way..." was the mantra in the kitchen tonight.

When Bridezilla and Groomonster arrived at the reception they held court in the kitchen because "they wanted to make a grand entrance and have everyone look and applaud."

Yeah. That's nice. Get out of the kitchen.

Soon after Bridezilla and Groomonster arrived in OUR kitchen, all of the Bridesmaid'hobitches came in after them and scolded us because it was "cold in here, can't you shut that door? We're cold. Shut the door!"

No fucking way.

Groomonster's mother (The Partner's sister-in-law) came in the kitchen (need I repeat my disdain for people coming in the damn kitchen?) to chat but it was in the peak stress of service time and we smiled but really no one gave her the time of day. We were busy. She later complained to The Partner that, "everyone was rude to her in the kitchen."

No fucking way.

When Bridezilla and Groomonster decided they were ready to be announced, they came out of their hiding place (we forced them into the sound room) and she twirled and took a bow. And then feigned embarrassment for the applause.

No fuc... oh, Hell. Where's the wine?

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Whoring For Family

It goes against my better judgment to turn tricks for family. It's not that I don't like helping loved ones out, it's just that there are too many expectations of special priveleges. And it's not that I don't think family deserves special priveleges, it's just that I believe they should be on my terms.

In other words, don't push it.

My cousin recently got engaged and the assumption is that "Well we know the reception portion of our big day is covered. The food will be fabulous and it will be free!"

But that's a blog for another day.

Anyway...

The Partner's nephew is getting married tomorrow night and we, of course, are whoring ourselves.

The subject was brought up the second week of April - exactly 5 weeks from tomorrow - when The Partner's Nephew called and asked if we could do the deed. My first response was, "No." as was that of my partner. First off, there was talk of "working with the bride's uncle in the kitchen" and "the budget was limited" and "We had hoped to have someone else do it but..." All of those things added up to a big "No way in Hell" by the time it was all said and done.

But the begging ensued. "Pleeeeease Aunt Partner. We didn't ask you first because we wanted you to be a guest and not have to work but the people we originally wanted were friends and they got scared and backed out and...PLEASE." The Partner asked why he waited so long to ask. It was, after all, only 5 weeks to the date of the event. His response? "Well, we forgot..." FORGOT ABOUT THE FOOD???

After five different attempts to say no, The Partner finally relented and when I was informed of this, I simply sighed, shook my head and said, "Fine. Whatever." (Lucky for the kid, we had scheduled ourselves off for tomorrow so The Partner could attend the wedding.)

Damn family guilt.

And damn us for succumbing to it.

First, last week we took no less that 14 calls IN ONE DAMN DAY from the nephew because he wanted to make sure we didn't forget about the reception. Forget? Is he joking? He waits until 5 weeks before his event to book an actual caterer and now he wants to make sure we don't forget? Suddenly now he's concerned about timeframes and forgetfulness?? And does he not get that we are professionals and not some idiots?

Second, he wants us to make enough food for 300 people but only wants to pay for the actual number of guests. Uh, no. That's not how whoring works. When you contract us for certain perks, that's what you pay for. It doesn't turn into a-la-carte at the end of the night, pal.

Third, he wants to make sure that I allow his aunt - The Partner - to really enjoy the reception so I am to "Really step up to the plate and make sure his aunt can sit with the other guests. There is no reason she shouldn't be able to enjoy the party..." Before I had a chance to register what he actually said to me, The Partner took the phone off speaker and ended the call. "Step up to the plate??? Did he tell me to STEP UP TO THE PLATE????? He guilts you into taking this trick and then has the balls to scold me ahead of time to make sure you can sit and enjoy the party? I will step you up to the plate you little shit."

After a nice cold lemon drop I was able to take a deep breath and calm down.

The Partner is at the end of her rope. And I am - well - you know.

Tomorrow is going to be an interesting day.
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I Am A Snob, Not An Idiot.

Snobs are really a pain in the ass. Well, except for me of course. How intimidating could I be with the big stain on my shirt that I got from from the Asian lime dressing at lunch yesterday?

Anyway...

While I do like nice products in my kitchen, I am not one to fall for the big name brands. If it meets my needs and I like it, I don't care who made it. Sometimes that means I have the big name brands, like my Kitchen-Aid mixer, and sometimes that means I buy not-so-big name brands like my panini grill.

I have been so busy (hence the no blogging) in the last week that I decided to drop everything and do some retail therapy yesterday. One of our stops was the Willams & Sonoma store.

They were doing samples of a new grilling marinade they were promoting - which is essentially an herbed oil that I totally bought - and they were brushing the oil on crostini and grilling them on a panini maker. I was inquring about the oil when the lady prepping the samples made me a couple crostini. We were talking and she asked me if I had a panini grill.

"Of course!"

"Oh, do you have the Krupps model?"

"No. I have a Breadman."

"A what?"

"A Breadman."

"Oh" (Snobby tone and look)

"I saw no reason to pay $100 for an appliance when I could get the exact same thing for $39."

"Well, it's not the exact same thing, I am sure. There really is only one panini grill out there that's worth having and it's Krupps. We sell them here."

"Yes, I saw them. But my Breadman rocks. It has all the same features as the one you are using but it was $60 cheaper."

"*Sigh* Well, all the professionals out there would tell you that Krupps is the very best model."

"Really?"

"Of course."

"And by professionals - whom do you mean? Do you mean yourself?"

"Well of course myself, I have worked for Willams & Sonoma for a year."

"Really, an entire year?"

"Yes. I take this job very seriously."

"Indeed. I am sure you do. And what other professionals?"

"You know, food people. Chefs. Caterers."

"Oh, I see." (Major smirk)

"I mean, it's perfectly natural for the average home cook to fall prey to the lesser expensive products on the market. But in order to do these things right you really need to be in the know. We offer classes if you are interested."

"Mmmhmm..."

"So what do you do for a living? Are you a stay at home wife? Mother? I assume since you're here on a week day that..."

"Oh, I work nights. The crostini are wonderful. I will take a bottle of the marinade..."

"And what do you do when you work nights?"

"I am a chef and a caterer...you know, one of those professionals you talked about?"

That left her speechless and stupid looking.

What I wanted to say was, "I am The Food Whore, bitch." But - the voice of The Friend in Baltimore is always with me and is always telling me to be nice and polite and classy.

Whatever.

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Good Grief

It took me 2 damn hours to change this template - and it looks nearly the same as my last one. As you can see, I am attracted to this color.

But good grief - 2 hours! By the end of all the "copy/paste, insert here" steps I was ready to poke my eyes out with a wooden skewer.
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Sheesh

Our computer died.

Crashed.

Puked.

Gave up the ghost.

When we finally get it back up and running I come to this place to find everything has changed. There's all new pretty buttons and colors. Look at all the colors!!!

Anyhew...

Give me a few minutes to get my composure and I will blog myself silly.
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Prom Dresses and Tuxedos

Tomorrow night is a big trick.

We get to feed 250 teenage kids all dressed in their finest prom dresses and tuxedos.

God help me.

God help them.
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I Cannot Wait To Get My Hands On Your Whoppers

I keep a big jar of candy on my desk for visitors, clients and whomever desires a sweet treat.

I went shopping on Tuesday to replenish the stash and decided to buy a carton of malted milk balls, better known as Whoppers.

I had a client today. After the meeting he said, "Do you mind? I saw these on my way in and I have been dying to get my hands on your Whoppers." Which immediately caused his face to turn 5 progressive shades of red.

Ah, buddy. If I had a dime for every time I heard that...
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Ooooh. Ouch. That's Gonna Leave A Scar!

Some of my greatest memories growing up involved The Aunt. She was, and still is, a gorgeous free spirit who lives each moment to it's fullest. Which...was really only a bad thing if you were married to her.

She recently married husband #6.

Anyway...

Once a month, she would pick The Sister and I up on Friday night and we would head out to her house for a weekend of fun. She always worked late on Fridays so we would be in our pajamas by the time she came to get us. I can still remember leaning over the back of the couch waiting for her little blue Datsun hatchback to come around the corner and invariably, I would fall asleep with my face against the glass.

The routine was always the same. We would put our things in our very own bedroom at her house and The Uncle would be waiting with popcorn on the couch. She always added a couple of shakes of Tobasco to the melted butter and it made that popcorn to die for.

Saturday morning's were spent eating cold cereal at the big dining room table on the fancy china. (Sunday breakfast was always served on the banquette in the kitchen nook. ) She loved the silly fact that we ate cereal out of china. We spent that time pouring over the classifieds for estate sales and flea markets. The Aunt and The Uncle purchased a very old home, complete with dumbwaiters and original claw tubs, and were lovingly restoring the old place room by room. Our Saturday morning excursions were treasure hunts to find antique fixtures and other things to bring the house to it's fully beauty. Well, that and stopping at the local foodmart for Coke flavored slurpees. Damn I loved those slurpees!

After sale shopping, we would head to the grocery store to pick out food for dinner. The Aunt was an amazing cook and she always encouraged us to get involved with every part of the meal, from picking out the fresh vegies, to putting the frosting on the cake.

There was always music playing during meal times and spilling was never a big deal. I think she made that rule for my benefit. I could cause a glass of milk to spill from 10 yards away. I was a clumsy little gipper, still am. Only now I am not so much the little gipper as I am The Big Clumsy Food Whore.

Now, as I mentioned, my aunt was an amazing free spirit. This was never more apparent than on the morning my sister and I first discovered the new Sunday morning tradition - that breakfast would be cooked for us...in the nude.

In our home, nudity was not something we saw in the kitchen. The Mother was very conservative by nature and made a hard and fast rule that nudity was for the bedroom and the bathroom. The Father was in complete agreement with this rule. When we grew up, we could be nude wherever we wanted in our own homes, but in her home, it was behind a closed door.

So you can imagine my being 8 years old and having the refrigerator door close and being face to face with my aunt's nipples.

Sweet Mother of God.

The Sister (Who was 12 at the time) was out of bed before I was and was sitting strategically behind the comics of the Sunday paper. When she peaked out from behind Charlie Brown, I can remember giving her that look of, "What the Hell?" Ok, so at 8-years old I didn't think "Hell". But I do remember thinking, "What, you couldn't leave a note on the nightstand? "Good Morning! Breakfast at 9:00. Oh, and by the way, there are nipples over an open flame in the kitchen!"

I just sort of stood there, frozen. And then The Aunt came over and gave me a good morning hug - which - yeah. The nipples were all up in my face and her skin smelled of bacon grease. Not knowing how to hug a naked person, I just sort of patted her back and made a beeline over to where my sister was sitting and pretended to read Beattle Bailey.

The sister and I were whispering behind the paper, "SHE IS NAKED!!! The Mom is going to be mad!!" when all of a sudden The Aunt hollered, "OoooUCH!!!!! SHIT!!!" We dropped the paper to find her frantically grabbing for a towel. The bacon popped and shot a big ole' bubble of grease and it landed on her right boob. "Shit Shit! Ooohhhh, that's gonna leave a scar!". We weren't much help. I mean, I was still reeling from having her nipple in my face, I certainly wasn't going to dab it with a cold cloth. And The Sister jumped up to save the bacon. So The Aunt was on her own.

She was fine, though. Just a slight blister and she was back in business. We kind of hoped that maybe she would get a robe on or something. But, no. She instead reached for an apron and continued on with her tasks.

Sunday mornings were never quite the same after that. I would wake up to the smell of bacon and dread the long walk to the kitchen for what would come to be known as "Crispy Bacon with a side of nipples" mornings.

I was always grateful, however, that The Uncle always wore pants.

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