CCC

Some of the best learning experiences I had while in college were the ones where we volunteered to be a part of some event or other. I carved beef at the Juno's once rubbing shoulders with Erica Ehm and Rod Stewart...OK fine, not rubbing shoulders as much as say, handing over bits of mangled beef, I helped cater more dinners than I care to count and managed to land a job for two days making Grand Marnier crepes at a food show. We were a favourite booth which we parlayed into free booze from neighbouring booths...$15 an hour and a buzz for the afternoon. Good times my friends.

One such event though had a lot of prestige and responsibility to go with it. Our school was chosen to host the very first CCC practical exam. The Certified Chef de Cuisine designation was the industries attempt to set standards and by extension more legitimacy all around. I think it's a good idea but I also think it makes not a wick of difference as to the qualities that a person may have to be chef, but that's for another day. As I was saying, our school was hosting the first eight chefs who were attempting to get their CCC designation. They would have all passed their theoretical and written modules, all that was left was an eight hour day preparing a three course meal and shepherding a young apprentice through the day. That's where I come in, along with seven classmates. What an opportunity to see master chefs at work and being a part of something important in our world.

First, let me say that it was a privilege to participate. After that, what a shit show. We were all less than impressed with the organization and the menu that had to be prepared. I know it was the very first one and growing pains are to be expected, but really...Chicken Mikado as an entree? What the fuck. As luck would have it I was randomly selected to be the apprentice for Chef Bobby...yes, that chef, "Chef I'll rip your fuckin arms off" Bobby. I don't recall all the other chefs there but I do recall one guy ended up failing...and that was my fear going in, don't be the reason that Chef Bobby screws up. Which under normal circumstances wouldn't have been a thing....but as you might guess, this wasn't normal and it was all of our faults. We got loaded the night before...all the students hanging out somewhere and drinking our faces off. Not the smartest move but par for the course in this thing of ours.

We were all rather unsteady and the practised eye of Chef Bobby saw it right away with me...in his Irish lilt I can still hear him "Did you go and get yourself pissed last night?" "Yes chef" "Jesus Christ...all of you right?" "Yes chef" "Jesus Christ make sure you don't fall down and don't breathe on the open flames" I was about to reply that I could handle what ever kind of hangover I might have had and still perform well, hell, I'd been doing that for a few years at the Good Ole Golden Griddle anyway but instead..."yes chef" So let the day begin....it seemed to me that Chef Bobby either had bad recipes or he was beyond nervous in what was going on. Everything he touched seemed to require extra effort to succeed...and a little cheating. He got me to sneak in some cornstarch to thicken a pastry cream he had made that was kind of runny, and we all know that you can't have runny pastry cream in your cornofuckingcopia...yep, old school. So I was an accomplice to cheating but I figured he was the one doing it and who am I to question the chef in the middle of a competition...hell, I still had classes with this guy.

As we worked away we could see the other chefs and apprentices doing the same, nervous looks and head scratches were followed by staring at recipe sheets which was followed by scurrying. Much scurrying...I'm not a fan of scurrying, I stroll and or saunter, scurrying seems wrong to me. I'm not sure why but the day seemed to drag on until the last hour or so when time sped up at seemingly twice the pace...crunch time was upon us, would the pastry cream hold? Did the Mikado have enough or too much soy sauce? Was our almond cake up to snuff? Tick, tick, tick...did they capture me on closed circuit TV sneaking the cornstarch into the hands of Chef?

As it turned out, all was good. Chef Bobby passed and was part of the first ever graduates of the CCC program. I was glad I didn't cause him to fail in humiliation and I was glad I could go home to sleep...by the way, this sleep deprivation caused either by over work or over indulgence will be a running theme for many years...I fell asleep on a toilet once, forewarned. But wait, what was that you say? We're going out for a drink to celebrate...OK, I guess...giddy up!

Ciao
D

Maybe it's the humidity

Two months to the US election and I'm getting closer and closer to heading down there and punching someone in the fucking throat...I don't know, maybe this humidity is making me crazy, or maybe that country is simply crazy.

By saying nothing of substance and spewing vitriolic half truths and out and out lies, espousing hatred, racism and misogyny and having not one clue as to the meaning of gravitas and how perhaps it might matter in being, oh I don't know, the most powerful man in the world....argh....Donald Drumph is in the fight for the white house. Why is he standing there? How is this so? America, take a long look at this situation that you have allowed to develop and start throat punching. I know there are good people down there...so stand up and kick the crap out of him, make it embarrassing...make him a footnote in history. And while you're at it....take down the tea baggers and Christian right.

I told you I wouldn't stop...I can't, he is repugnant as a human being and he shouldn't be allowed to go any further. We can laugh about it later if the country makes the right decision...remember when Donald Drumph ran for president? Crazy eh? Can you imagine...haha, what's on TV tonight?

Today I am going to take aim at the media. Collectively they have failed to do their job with impartiality. Agendas, ideology and ratings are what drive the conversation instead of reporting the news, sticking to fact and providing context. Edward Murrow brought down McCarthy and Cronkite helped end Vietnam...what do we have today...fuck all is what we have. When you can tune in Fox or CNN and have "commentators" screaming at each other for air time and the loudest and most ridiculous wins the battle. How else is Ann Coulter even allowed to be heard...it's the Gordon Ramsay approach to being a celebrity chef. Yell, ridicule, and generally be a douche bag. Which is sad, because the man can cook. I guess also the fact that he's doing entertainment and not running for president.

Clinton gets grilled, deservedly so, over her emails, and she has a trust problem. Drumph out and out lies and contradicts himself everyday and he's the more trust worthy candidate...are you fucking high? Call bullshit when you see it...don't let yourself get taken for a ride by these clowns...damn humidity is forcing me to swear a little, fuck the fucking fuckers!!!!! Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh

Have I ever mentioned that I don't like people that don't swear? I don't trust them...I feel like they are hiding something...but that's a different day.

Soooooo, what have we learned today? That Drumph is not to be trusted with his own locker combination, certainly not the welfare of the country/ That the media needs to do their job properly...please get out there and report the news, engage us, challenge us and help us to stay informed. And lastly, drop the "F" bomb every now and then...I might like you a bit more and punch you in the throat a little less.

All together now.....fuck you Drumph!!!!

Still I am blurry

Perhaps an update on the reason this whole blog thing started in the first place.

I saw my Russian super villain ophthalmologist yesterday. After being shuttled around a few different examination rooms and having a very young Doogie Howser like doctor in training deal with me....seriously man, wheres the real doctor? I was told my tumour is not growing, which is good and according to his measurements it is the same size as when he measured it. More than slightly puzzled since when I was last in the big smoke my tumour had shrunk significantly..I think I'll take their measurements over his. He chalked it up to different machines and different people doing the measurements...sure doc.

Nothing else to worry about as of now so I fall into monitoring mode. The only issue is the blurry vision out of my affected eye. Think trying to see through a dirty window with globs of blood being swung across your field of vision on a regular basis and you have my view. I suspect it won't come back so my new reality is this impairment. The alternative is being dead so I guess I'm OK with that. I'm still a little pissed that spidey powers have not been realized as of yet...sigh

So, a moment to reflect I suppose. Boy, a lot has happened in the past eight months since that diagnosis. The fear and uncertainty that accompanied this not so great news, not just for myself but for family and friends, has been a bit of a kick to the gut. The support I have received and continue to receive has been nothing short of amazing. I think my response was made easier knowing I had plenty of people beside me. This blog has become the most visible manifestation of my response to this whole fuck up...FUCK CANCER!!! Part therapy and part soap box I have come to enjoy this exercise in spilling my brain to you....hello China and the Philippines by the way.

And to show that I'm not a one trick pony, here's what else has happened since December 28, 2015.

A shit load of meals have been prepared for my job...I don't think I want to know how many people I have cooked for over the years, it might be depressing...hahaha I've been back and forth to Toronto a few times and one of them was for actual vacation with my two youngest. I went to New York and had the best time ever...it's New York ya'll!!! Awesome time.

Saw some movies, some live music, ate a lot of sushi, drank a lot of bad coffee all in the pursuit of love, or as we call dating in the digital age. It never fails to amaze me, this whole process of dating. I've met some amazing women and then there were others...that's the way it's done now so I suppose I'm par for the course.

The kidney stones and accompanying gravel after the treatment I went through....holy hell, two weeks of pain that I am glad are behind me. Save for the blurry vision I actually feel pretty darn good. The aches I was feeling for much of the year since I had a small tear in my meniscus and the damage done when I fell at work last year are pretty much gone. I credit my recuperating powers and turmeric...just saying. OK, the physio helped I'm sure.

The kids have progressed on to their next levels, and in the case of my son, university time for him. So weird to think that two of my kids are at Dal now. Such a wonderful time for them...at least I hope so. They are really growing up to be great people...their own people. I like that they are not cookie cutter kids.

I've participated in the most ludicrous exercise that I have been involved with...the annulment process through the church is, as the kids these days put it, ridonkulous. Once a decision comes down I think I will write about it...it's quite the thing really.

I didn't win the lottery to be able to live in Europe for long stretches of time. Nor to go to university just for the hell of it. I didn't get a motorcycle or bungee jump off of a bridge. I never did that high speed chase I've been aching to do and contrary to what you may think I haven't actually punched anyone in the throat.

Hmmmmmm...those seem to be the "big" things I think. I won't bother you with the cliche of growing as a person and discovering more of myself...I have and I continue to do so, but if you've read any of this blog you already know that. I am more aware, happier and sillier than ever...blurry vision or not.

Thanks for reading

Ciao
D

Under the influence

We all know how music can have an effect on your mood and bring memories flooding back, the power of music as far as I'm concerned. Where the Streets Have No Name by U2 brings me back to my last year of high school, soon to graduate and whether it was realized or not, change was everywhere. That Joshua Tree album and specifically that song was the soundtrack of my life at that time, and even now, nearly 320 years later, I still find it fresh and new sounding...rock music but not really rock music. I wore out my record playing it so much.

I drive a little faster, and that's saying something, when Tom Petty's Runnin' Down a Dream or She Sells Sanctuary by The Cult comes on...turn up the volume and enjoy the music, let it move through you and into the car...machine do my bidding. Twist and Shout takes me to that scene in Ferris Bueller's Day Off, every time. ABBA on the radio and I am reaching for my phone to bug a dear friend with the music playing in her ear or on her answering machine...she proclaims to hate ABBA.

So many songs so many memories, emotions and reactions. In turns I can become a drug waste, a rebel with a cause, an anarchist and a thoughtful romantic depending on what song is playing. Link Wrays Rumble and I'm John Travolta strolling through Jack Rabbit Slims with Uma Thurman, high as a kite and drinking $5 shakes. I hear Sunday Bloody Sunday in my head when I'm thinking about injustice in the world. Air drumming to Run to the Hills or anything by Rush...usually while driving and Jesus of Suburbia gets my teenage angst up even though I am coming up on 49 years old. Music Baby!!!!

That is why music is so important, like poetry, it moves us, inspires us and fills us. It has the power to take us to new heights and soothe us when we need it most. The sound track that has played in my life stretches back to Elvis on 8 track that my mom had all the way through to Mumford and Sons today. While I still enjoy the oldies I do have some appreciation for some new music...on that subject, freak boy Gene Simmons from Kiss gave the best reason I've heard on why I still like the music I like. When asked why Kiss was still popular he turned to the audience and asked a guy what he listened to when he was 12 and 13 years old? He replied, almost pandering, that it it was Kiss, see...the music you listen to in those formative years is what will almost always stay with you.

Side bar here....this is stricltyy me speaking here, I have five guys that I feel you can call them the 'man'. In no particular order, Elvis, Johnny Cash, Bob Marley, Neil Young and of course Leonard Cohen. Who's on your list?

And while music has had the most influence in my life for mood and behaviour, there have been other media as well. Case in point, I watched a few episodes of Breaking Bad the other day and soon afterwards, as I walked through WalMart getting cut off by moronic morons, I wanted to Walter White their asses..I'm certain I was even snearing like he would have, with a cold hatred and a plan to dispose of the bodies...if people only knew. My daughter texted me to let me know she was out of work early and my reply was "I'll be there shortly, a few homicides first" Watching The Walking Dead and I'm debating which weapon would be best when shit got real...I have to go with the sword.

Of course, not all movies and shows propel me to murder; other and more meaningful emotions and reactions come from watching...oh I don't know, just about anything....think The Shawshank Redemption, Seven Pounds, Apollo 13, The Blues Brothers, Cloud Atlas....and on and on. You get the idea don't you? And just to show that I have a sensitive side, Serendipity and Love Actually, The First and Second Best Exotic Marigold Hotel movies....I'm cereal. Oh, speaking of which, MASH and West Wing, my two favourite shows ever...humanity, humour and ideals. Throw in Seinfeld and I am the master of my domain.

So put down that Cheech and Chong inspired fatty, stop tapping your toes to Uptight as we prepare for Chariots of Fire running on the beach and a Rocky style workout punching the crap out of some beef carcass....see, I could do this all day.

Ciao
D

Culinary 102

I recall sitting in a nondescript classroom on my first day of college, an orientation sort of thing with 30 odd young adults and a few funny looking guys in white jackets and chef hats with some very uncomfortable looking neckerchiefs. Since I never stepped foot in that class again I assumed we were brought to a nicer class to welcome us to the world of chefdom....and there was cheese and fruit and wine, well this was a fine way to begin a new direction in life.

What came next, I realized many years later, was a small dose of the coming reality we were all about to immerse ourselves in. At the front of the room stood Chef Klaus, Chef Bobby, Chef Frank and Chef Gisbert along with the dean of the program, John Walker...also a chef but rarely in his whites. Class schedules were handed out and I was seriously considering dropping out at the thought of an eight hour class...WTF man? Turns out it was the Humber Room, the on campus dining room....oh, OK, I can handle that. And then the barrage began....dropping hints, anecdotes and stories designed to scare you and prepare you. One of the chefs asked how many of us ate our steaks well done. Almost all of us put our hands up..."by the end of your first semester you'll be eating them medium rare" he said. And he was right, and now I like my steak medium rare and I view anyone that wants their steak well done as someone not worthy of that meal I just prepared...eat a damn pot roast you twit if you want something well done.

Another chef asked us a more personal question, "how many of you have a lot of friends that you are close with from high school?" All of us put our hands up...of course, my buddies were everything to me well..."start saying goodbye to them, most of them won't be in your lives within a year" was his reply...while he stared out over us I'm sure he was looking for signs of defiance or disbelief. Again, he turned out to be right, unfortunately. You see, like anything that you want to do well at and to succeed in, being a chef requires hard work and commitment, and to go a little further, not unlike a doctor, it requires an almost total sacrifice to become good. And I'm not comparing chefs to doctors in any way, I'm just saying that the level of personal commitment is very similar...who do you think is cooking that nice Valentine's Day dinner you just over paid for? Meaning that gaggle of cooks are not out with their own beloved celebrating that made up event. Why do you think we change jobs every six months? Well, for some it's because they can't keep a job or there is something wrong with them, but for many it's because we want to learn more and experience everything. With a few exceptions, most of my friends drifted off...now maybe that would have happened regardless but being in the trenches did not help the cause at all. When you work 90 hours some weeks it leaves little time for a social life, well...maybe a different social life. Joining the other fluorescent lit cooks and servers, sitting on buckets and milk crates, sharing stories and meals, attending after hours parties and learning the ins and outs of the world viewed through our particular shade of glasses.

One of the chefs was trying to articulate the importance of butchery and he talked about the king of beef cuts, the tender tenderloin. Slowly pulling us into his little trap, you all know what a tenderloin looks like and you know where the tenderest part of a tenderloin is right? No? Really? Here, let me show you. The man drew a giant dick on the board...it was a tenderloin but all who know also know that a tenderloin looks dick like...he wanted us to giggle and be uncomfortable and it succeeded. It was the first salvo in what would become and continues to be the way of all chefs and cooks...relate anything and everything to body parts and sex. Quentin Tarantino in Reservoir Dogs..."dick, dick, dick, dick dick"...it really is that simple.

The talk was done let the food and wine begin. Right away the education began, "do you like wine" I was asked by Chef Frank in a small gathering of people. "I don't really know, I haven't drunk it much"...or ever at that point. "Take a sip"...OK, "Now, eat a grape and take a sip" Wow. "Now eat some cheese and take a sip" OK then...let the games begin. I now love wine by the way. The mentoring process was started with vigour on day one, it was a casual and warm embrace in joining the brotherhood. Tomorrow the real work and the reality of the business would begin. Results, expectations and consequences were rushing headlong towards us as we sipped our chardonnay and wondered if we really had to wear those stupid fucking hats.

I have no doubt they were comparing notes on us all afterwards, the system demands sacrifice and hard work and no one wants to waste their time on lost causes. Of the thirty kids that started, we were down to fourteen after the first year. At the end of it all, there were about eleven, and only three of us actually graduated as some people didn't show up for their electives. I have no doubt those chefs knew to a letter who would succeed and who would not...I think you just kind of know when you've been in the business long enough. I generally have a good idea of the type of person that will move on and be successful and the person that will remain a worker bee. And I'm not disparaging those people at all...I need them. I need the lifer breakfast cook, because I don't want to do it nor can I do it as well as they can at this stage of my life. It would be like watching a penguin trying to make breakfast for 30 people...funny and not so much with the graceful.

Chef Bobby had a small group of people around him as he was doing what the Irish do best, no not drinking his face off, telling stories. He told good stories but there always seemed to be an element of "look, I may be short but I can do this" to it...short mans syndrome maybe? But he was always threatening to rip our arms off and beat us with it and liked to brag that he was well endowed..."think of a wee boys arm with a fist"...seriously, what the hell man?

These were some of the men, and yes they were all men back then, that would help shape and form me into what I would become, and if you know what that is please let me know. Nearly thirty years later I remember so many of the things they had said and done that helped to teach me...I use some of their own mannerisms and sayings when I do my part in the business. In fact, regardless of who I am trying to mimic in an accent, be it British, Irish, or Japanese, I give all my voices a bad German accent to this day. When I or someone else sneezes I say "bless you, wipe the floor". When I am showing a classroom of eager moms how to hold a knife and how to guide food with their free hand, I always give them the middle finger as way of showing them proper hand placement. There are others...

Hard work? You betcha. But an incredible amount of knowledge, experience and laughs were shared in those two years. I still have my arms of course and a lifetime full of stories to tell that stem from those early steps in the world of things culinary.

Ciao
D

Always on my mind

I don't really care for country music so when I say that Willie Nelson's version of this song stands supreme for me, you know I'm saying something. Considering I think of him as a twangy lost my truck, my dog died and my girlfriend left me kind of country singer, that's really saying something. Not to mention that Elvis sang this as well....Willie's version just feels more real, more visceral. This song popped into my head last week and I haven't been able to shake it out, so maybe writing about it will help. And maybe pigs will fly and angels do dance on pinheads.

This may go completely off the rails for me as I flirt with delicate topics and matters of the heart...be forewarned, articulation seems to be difficult the past few days and my mind is everywhere. Ha, right now you're thinking and that's different how? I know, I know. When I sat down to start typing my hands hovered over the keys for many many moments. I didn't know what I wanted to say and the things I thought I knew I wanted to say were stuck in sappy lyric land. Uncharted territory for me when putting words to paper, or screen as it happens. I can talk freely about these kinds of things with friends and lovers, but trying to sound coherent and reasonable here I just seem to be casting about...this paragraph being an example of that.

I think maybe the reason comes from a confluence of events, starting with the Tragically Hip concert last week, a budding relationship ending and a good dose of reflection. I may be over thinking things in the end but really I'm completely fine with that...my quiet and not so quiet introspection is as much a part of me as my sarcasm, my absurdity and my stories. Just thinking....

You're never far from my mind. Time has not eroded or softened one bit of how I felt for you. This one time, thinking of the "what if". I wonder how you are doing...what has happened in your life over the years? I truly do hope you're happy and have found peace that works for you. For me, I have loved and lost and moved on. I'm happier than I have been in a long time and I know that tomorrow will be better again. The road has been hard but not too hard if that makes sense. I like that life doesn't come easy, I believe the reward is that much sweeter when adversity is faced down and a true appreciation of what has been gained is realised.

We were both brave enough to start a conversation that mattered, to borrow once again from Gord Downie...the confines of our hearts were opened up to us. This is what made us, the root of it all was the ability to talk, to share and not be afraid. Sadly, that's a rare thing, an almost elusive dream to work back to. I miss that above all else, I miss you.

Our paths may cross one day...I have no idea how it will go or what will be said. Maybe it will be a fleeting glimpse or maybe we will share a moment not unlike Marina Abramović and Ulay seeing each other for the first time in 30 years. Watch that video and tell me that's not pure and raw...nothing else mattered in that moment.

See what you have gone and done, made me talk about things....nothing good ever came from talking...haha

Socrates tells us that an unexamined life is not worth living...I don't know, that may seem too black and white for my liking, perhaps striving to be self aware is where its at, after all, not everyone wants or can be so reflective as to keep Socrates happy. The world is grey, as you know...Neil Young on the analogue versus digital debate talks about the difference this way...if you look at the sky with grey clouds and were able to zoom into one small pixel type area, there would be multiple shades of grey making up the whole of that grey pixel. A deep universe in every pixel as he says....to digitise it would take that infinite universe and make it one shade of grey. Blending it together, making it uniform across the whole area. From afar you couldn't tell the difference, up close is what suffers in interpretation...in that grey area there are infinite possibilities. And we are lesser from having it blended....I think life is like that. We work hard to make it safe and uniform, to fit into whatever conception we have of ourselves and I think we are the lesser for it, we are missing the possibilities that exist within the nuances and variations.

I leave you with that today....

Ciao
D

The Great Dictator

In the background I've known about Charlie Chaplin for a long time, a lovable gifted actor known in the silent film era. When you dig a little deeper and read about his works, his motivations and his impact you realize quickly that this guy was a 20th century version of a renaissance man. He wrote, directed, scored and starred in most of his films, he was political and he was, above all else, his own man. His speech in The Great Dictator should send chills up your spine and give pause for thought on our lives in the greater context of the world...as JFK said, this planet we all inhabit. I think he really was something special, flaws and all....that speech brings me to this...

I get another set of chills when thinking about the orange haired Mr. Drumph. I don't think I will stop my barrages on him until he is either defeated in November or I die. I'm hoping for the former obviously as I have no desire to die and the whole world needs him not to be elected. Since I am not allowed to vote in the US elections this is my way of contributing to the effort to prevent this ass hole from coming anywhere near the levers of power. Some of you may ask why...well, let me tell you...because he's an ass hole and what happens in that country, for better or worse, has consequences around the world...and as Edmund Burke said, “The only thing necessary for the triumph of evil is for good men to do nothing.” Well, I'm a good man and I know lots of other good men and women and we should say what we think. He is evil and I feel a rant coming.....

This fraction of a man is getting daily intelligence briefs, which is oxymoronic considering the audience, I would think that reading the ingredient list on a box of Captain Crunch would be a better way of keeping him informed. I am actually astonished that he hasn't let slip any of the facts contained within those briefings. His particular brand of xenephobic isolatianist claptrap is the stuff of nightmares that harkens back to Hitler and his goosestepping fascists...Drumph is a fascist. He truly thinks he has all the answers and only he is capable of fixing the ills of his country. What we will end up with is a quagmire of catastrophes that will do irreparable harm to the world at large.

The moronic tea baggers and religious right will open the purse strings to this vile man and nobody knows where things will lead...but none of it will be good. He must be stopped and that whole shift to the far right has to be stopped as well...the system is broke and people that were sent to govern instead choose to demonise and block any and all real measures to improve the lot of the people and by extension the country. Congressional Republicans voted down a measure to enshrine equal pay for women and continue to deny climate change...instead choosing to focus on trying to dismantle Obama Care, controlling women's bodies, advancing the NRA agenda, kowtowing to the Christian fanatics and generally padding their own and their close corporate friends pockets.

Responsible and reasonable discourse has been replaced by shouting matches with pretty figure heads that have the depth of a puddle on a hot summer day. In 1968 you had Gore Vidal and W.F. Buckley intelligently, for the most part, debating the merits of candidates and the state of the union and direction of the countries soul...today we have a candidate making fun of a mans disabilities, Fox anchors shouting down anyone with an opinion other than theirs and a multitude of supporters that seem to have come en masse from Oazarks by way of four wheelers and lawn mowers.

Enough...it's time to call out these wannabe time travelling Leave it to Beaver xenophobic troglodytes for what they truly are. Please, for the love of whatever you may call holy, put an end to this hatred, misogyny, racism and intolerance. Do not allow the king clown to come to power, boot out the congress and senate that deserves a boot to the head and start the healing process, the return to human values that espouse acceptance, love and charity..tear down walls instead of making them larger and un-clench the fist to see that an open palm in friendship and respect is more powerful.

Just do it already

D