Whomever put the stock away in the cooler had a tough time fitting everything in. Which is understandable. We're full up of Tricking stock, so our regular stock is crammed and tucked in really creative ways.

We had just made a fresh batch of peanut sauce, and had to stack the containers (a one gallon plastic jars) three high to make it all fit. I stacked it myself, making sure to check the integrity of the stack. It all seemed fine.

Famous last words.

I needed a jar of the sauce, and instead of going back out of the cooler to get the step stool I figured I could shimmy it onto my fingertips and into my palm. It's a balancing act I perform multiple times a week.

Only this time fate took over and shortly after getting the container into my palm it slipped slightly to the left before I could get my other hand on it, and it came splashing down all over the front of me.

This wouldn't have been particularly upsetting had I not just cleaned up four pounds of shredded cheese.

Cheese that I spilled, of course.

So a man walks in The Restaurant last night and asks to see a menu.

So he stood there at the counter scanning the menu offerings... picking his ear.

Just - picking, reading, picking, reading.

Then he handed the menu back, graciously said thank you, and walked out the door.

That's it.

There's a blog you need to check out called Mens Cookery Club.

I got an e-mail from them saying:

...We have an ex ace chef dishing out the recipes (with a few more cherferroonies getting involved soon) and then we,
his disciples, blog them up to share with the world...

I loved how he described it:

...Some people are a
bit scared by our terrible grammar, juvenile humour and refusal to use
any kind of measuring device...

Terrible Grammar. Juvelile Humor. Refusal to use measuring devices...my kind of people.

Check It Out

Overheard in a catering (via telephone) meeting today:

"We're on a pretty tight budget, so do you have some lower end menus, cost wise? Like basic meat and buns?"

"Oh... no. No no. This must be done by a professional. Image is everything."

Image, yes.

But my sanity, clearly, is never a priority.

I received the heads up on this article from a reader. I want to assure all of you that The Partner and I don't punch. We may go silent and slam refrigerator doors, but no punching. Though if I we still doing this when we are 60 we might just out of the insanity that is bound to have set in by then.

Actually, If I am still doing this when I am 60 I will punch myself.

EASTON, Conn. — The executive chef at a popular grocery store was arrested after police said he beat a fellow chef at a private party because her appetizers were cold.

George Llorens, 60, turned himself in Saturday. He was charged with third-degree assault and released on $10,000 bond. He is due back in Bridgeport Superior Court July 31.

Chef Pascaline Pruvost told police that she and Llorens were at a home making food for a wedding when Llorens allegedly yelled at her about her food preparation. Llorens swore at Pruvost and punched her in the face and head, police said. Pruvost said he grabbed and bruised her arms when she raised them to defend herself...

The Full Story from Fox News

A while back I was "tagged" via e-mail to play the "5 Things Game", and by a 'while ago', I mean months, as it takes me that long to get through the e-mail. And I admit I was reading over at Very Good Cooking and it was a good reminder to get it done.

Normally I don't do these things because I never think I have anything interesting to add. But here it goes:

Five items in the freezer.
1. Slivered almonds.
2. Edamame.
3. Homemade breadcrumbs.
4. A retarded icemaker that poops out massive chunks of ice instead of nice cubes. Makes me mad every time I try to get them out of the catch tray.
5. Bananas. Because I keep holding out hope.

Five items in my closet.
1. Way too many shoes.
2. Photo albums.
3. Clothes - all over the place. The most recent outfit is still on the floor after trying it on and realizing the pants made my arse look like The Great Pyramids. They were thrown on the floor in disgust and there they shall remain until they can learn to be more flattering.
4. Work clothes.
5. Suitcases. Suitcases that mock me.

Five items in my car.
1. A hammer. I am trying to remember why I put it in there, and refuse to take it out until I do. Because when I take it out, I will need it.
2. Deodorizer - just in case of errant smelly cheeses.
3. $325.43 worth of change that drives The Husband crazy as it rattles when it drive.
4. A notice for license tab renewal... which caused me to gasp when I wrote this because I put it in there so I would remember to get the tabs before they expired... on June 30th. CRAP.
5. Pens.

Five items in my wallet.

1. A debit card.
2. A recipe stolen from a magazine in my dr's office.
3. About 4000 grocery receipts that make snapping the wallet impossible.
4. Driver's License with a picture that makes me look stoned and angry.
5. Business cards.

We keep a stash of chocolates by our cash register to give our customers one last chance for a little decadence as they walk out the door. We place some on their table with the bill, but some people prefer not to pay their server so they get a little bonus as they wait.

So last night I was in The Restaurant meeting with a client for an upcoming trick. We happened to be sitting at a table close to the door so I was able to see the comings and goings of the place. And what I saw was a woman walk in our door - cell phone to ear, cup of Starbuck's in the free hand - and she came in, looked to see if anyone was watching, (yacking on the phone the entire time, mind you) grabbed a couple of chocolates and walked out the door.

The Client and I both watched it happen, and watched as she turned to look back while popping a chocolate in her mouth. I caught her eye, and raised my eyebrow, to which she responded with that 'What are you looking at?' kind of smirk.

The Client looked back and me and said, "She just did a walk-in chocolate theft, didn't she?"

"I say you chase her and hit her over the head with a saucepan. That's what I would do if someone stole my chocolate."

She's got a point.

The Husband has watched many a cooking show in our years together. Not always by choice, but out of surrender to the fact that I hid the remote so well he could only change the channel by actually walking up to the TV to do it. Which, that thought makes me giggle even as I type it.

One thing he has always commented on was the shininess of the pans everyone uses. And I've sort of blown it off assuming he understood the magic of television in that fake kitchens have shiny baking pans. Real kitchens have pans aged from months - years - of heat and abuse. But that heat and abuse imparts the greatest seasoning ever.

So the other night while I was out tricking he, in all of his sweetness, spent a couple of hours soaking and scrubbing all of my baking pans back to their pristine shine.

I gasped when he proudly showed me his accomplishment. And I had an incredible game face, and was able to mask my horror to a face full of awe and gratitude. I didn't have the heart to tell him all of his hard work over the last two hours had completely undone all the hard work I had done over the last two years.

One of these days I will sit down and explain to him the value of a well-seasoned pan. But for now, I will let him think he's done something fabulous for me.

Bless his heart.

This is the very basic principle of why people - dumb people - make me crazy.

We lost a friend this week. And Friday we attended his funeral. The darling church ladies provided a lovely church luncheon - ham buns, potato salad, vegies, fruit, and an amazing array of home-baked sweets and cookies. They were sweet and helpful and honored to be a part of it all.

While standing outside in the fresh air talking with friends, I overheard a gentleman bitching about the "lack of good food". Apparently, "He's hungry, and a bun is the best they could do??"

Seriously, someone's dead.

Go to damn Ihop.

The husband is not a fan of mixing his foods. Meaning: At Thanksgiving while I make a well in the center of my mashed potatoes and fill it with corn before topping the whole thing with gravy, he keeps his corn separate and prefers it not to touch any portion of the potatoes or the gravy. So he's a gravy in the hole only kind of guy. I like peanuts in my M&M's, he likes plain M&M's with a bowl of peanuts on the side.

Potato, Potahto.

I've seen this pattern in others - namely my coustomers - a lot, of late. Just last night a man came in to The Restaurant and order the steak salad, but he wanted all of the ingredients separate. So we had to do a pile of greens with all little bowls of toppings - even the steak. And then he proceeded to eat each individual topping before eating the lettuce - plain. (No, he didn't drink the dressing. He didn't want any)

And then during our Trick, a woman went through the buffet line 6 different times. Each time taking only one thing, and eating it before she came back for the next. "Doesn't like her food to share a plate".

Harmless behaviors. Quirky. But harmless.

So what are your food quirks?

The thing about sunshine and lazy days is, well, they're fabulous.

The great thing about being my own boss, or pimp as seems appropriate for the moniker, is being able to set your own hours. So on a long holiday weekend like this, we've given ourselves permission to relax, enjoy the sunshine, and do crazy things like sit in our cars and eat.

The Husband and I took some much needed "us" time yesterday, and spent the day on a long drive visiting funky shops, fruit stands, and driving with the windows down. In honor of all the relaxation and elation I was sure to experience I wore my new white shirt. The confidence and determination I felt was slightly diminished when The Husband said, "White? Really?" while letting out a big sigh. But it's summer, I am tan, and I will stand defiant in the name of all the spillage.

The driving with the windows down thing didn't last long as while we were driving down the highway the craziest thing happened - a dragon fly flew right into our windshield and got lodged in the arm of the windshield wiper. Due to my irrational fear of all things flying, slithering, croaking and scurrying, I screamed. The Husband thought something horrible happened and quickly pulled the car to the side of the road. When He realized that my fear came from being eye-to windshield-to eye with what now was a dead dragon fly, he leaned his head on the steering wheel and let out a huge sigh. And then he mumbled something like, "Crazy woman...scared me...need a drink."

Living with me as long as he has, it's amazing he's not a full blown sot.

So anyway... he dislodged the carcass and we were on our merry way to the next stop - an old school drive in. The kind where you park outside and use the little phone thing to call in your order. Feeling confident and sure of myself, I ordered the deluxe burger with chocolate shake - defying the good vibe I was feeling to overcome any normal occurrence when wearing white - the big spill.

The food was fabulous. The burger was just the right combination of slightly greasy, totally juicy, and crispy in all the right places. It was piled high with cheese, pickles, fresh tomato, lettuce, onions and a slathering of a sauce tasting exactly (and I am sure it was) 1000 Island dressing. So delicious, and so very spilly. And the shake? Hard ice cream, hand scooped, and churned in an old fashioned shake maker.

We sat in our car moaning with the indulgence, and revelling in using every single napkin to wipe our faces. And I did really good, not a spill in site. Until, that is, I was dumb enough to remove the lid from my chocolate shake so I could gulp the very last lump of ice cream at the bottom of the cup. And when I turned to The Husband and smiled while wiping shake off my upper lip, he raised an eyebrow and nodded toward the splotch of shake on the front of my white shirt.

And with total relaxation and arrogance, I dabbed at the spot with a clean napkin, and reached into my purse to pull out my magic wand:

The Friend, a fellow spiller, introduced me to this little stick of wonder a few weeks ago - and can I say - it's fabulous. With a little pressing, and a little rubbing, the chocolate shake was but a memory from my white shirt. When I was done I held up the Tide Pen in victory, and announced, "On to the fruit stand, Gorgeous Man. Bring on the cherries!" Independence day, indeed.

So on this 4th of July holiday weekend, I wish you all a fabulous celebration full of food, laughter, and sparklers. Just don't put an eye out with a fire cracker!

(Please note: This promotion is totally self-motivated. Tide/Proctor & Gamble did not pay me to say these things, though I am not too proud to say I would gladly take a promotional package of these miracles in a stick should anyone from Tide be reading this. I also like Tide Liquid detergent. And look how nicely the colors of my website match the Tide Product line!! You know, just in case.)