The Kitchen Blog

Cooking, Gardening, Angst and More. Including Job Search Tales and lifestyle tips about island living.

Blogging

Check out these two links if your at all interested in the philosophy of blogging. Thought provoking stuff.

posted by: ChefNeal at June 30, 2005 11:18 | link | comments |
blogging, perfectpath, lloyd davis

Internet of Broken Links

I'm taking a break from the Girl's short-order-fry-cooking me about thier breakfast--Oatmeal, Scrambled Eggs with Cheese, Milk, Sausage, Fried potatoes. Not ordered by all five equally, but in different combinations over 30 minutes. I should hang a shingle out in the Bay and serve all comers. Good thing I think I'm a Chef.

The Internet was broken yesterday which is exactly what I was thinking as it took forever to upload both parts of my latest Gastrocast podcast. Hmm, could it be the influx of new podcasts and  listeners due to Apple's release of iTunes 4.9? Yes. Imagine that--the internet brought to its knees by a hand full of us free-thinking activists taking control of the power and the message! Never has my Global Insignificance made me feel so good.

Things seem to be heating up here in regards to the wedding I'm catering later in July. 24 Days to go and the Bride has thrown out all previous plans and ideas and seems to be winging it. That's cool, it's her day--she should get something of what she wants. Only thing is, everything seemed so cool and set. Now it seems like full panic mode has set in and she no longer realizes she is paying us to handle stuff for her. A couple of times she has gone out and done stuff we had already taken care of and told her about!

This is our 8th wedding that we have done flowers, cakes--both the Wife's domain, and food for. Yet, it is the third we have had these problems with. The two--well, three: ours was awesome--weddings we and everyone else have loved have all been low-budget parties. Food and fun were the themes and everyone had a blast. The couples were great to deal with and just left everything up to us after one meeting. As soon as the bride starts to spend more on the dress than on the food/flowers there is a problem. Keep your fingers crossed things don't go any further South from here on out.

posted by: ChefNeal at June 30, 2005 09:19 | link | comments (1) |
life, internet, gastrocast

Dearly Departed

Ah, they have gone.

The sun is out, sending the rain clouds scudding away. Once we have eaten a curry of leftovers there will be little to remember of this week past.  The girls seemed to have a good time. It was all actually quite mellow. Although, yesterday I about blew a gasket. I was having a hard time not loosing it. I could feel the balance of my mind tipping during lunch. Everyone sitting around the table waiting to stuff thier faces while I loaded the table with food and then got everyone thier drinks and replaced dropped forks, etc. My dear Wife, long suffering though she may be, was also in for it. She made plans with my Father to piss off on a nature walk with the girls while I made dinner and cleaned up after lunch. Oh, I was ripe for a self-pity party. The sixth day at the eleventh hour of my patience.

I avoided bloodshed and had a drink and cooled down.  The weather here has been crap for the last few days. Cold, rainy, blagh.  Today has been a recovery day. I had to serve lunch before the parental units left, but then it was time to crash and veg. So much has been put on hold for a week while the computer, which sits in the corner of the kitchen became largely off limits for me, but essential for my Dad to keep in touch with his life beyond my Mother. Emails, blogs to read, comments to make--an online life lost to time. I also need to get back into the Garden journal thing. I have much to update it with--just need to find the time.

Well, leftovers beckon.

posted by: ChefNeal at June 27, 2005 19:15 | link | comments (1) |
life, family

Guests

Well things are going better than expected. The Girls love having thier Grandfather around. He goes on nature walks with them, and pushes them on the swings. The stuff I do daily with them must seem all that more exciting because he concentrates on each one. They are not staying here at our house, nor where they usually stay but up at my in-law's place. I realized this morning we owe them big time. The in-laws moved out of thier own room and have been providing breakfast too.  The best part is my Father-in-law is such a talkative so-o-bee you can't ever get away without him calling you back, "hey. . .just remembered a story. . . ." Instead of having guests from 8am till 10pm they've been coming after 10 and leaving before 9. Huzzah!

Last night we had a Japanese fellow here for dinner. He's the PR director for a Sake firm. Good man to know. . . . He is here visiting friends so we invited him to dinner as my Father used to spend a lot of time in Japan. It was good for the girls too. He brought his guitar and taught them to sing a song and then they performed it. It was very sweet. He is hoping by meeting many different Americans his English will improve more and more. It is very good, but not great which led to several hillarious mis-understandings.

It was a good strategic move as well. The guest took the pressure off of us.  Three more days left till we get our lives back. Which reminds me. . .they're not here right now--I should pay bills. . . .

posted by: ChefNeal at June 24, 2005 09:27 | link | comments (2) |
life

One if by land. . .

No sight yet. So far I have cleaned up after the girls three times. Nevertheless I was able to get out the Gastrocast, a follow up of this trip to Seattle's Chinatown on Thursday.

Hey--my motime pages are screwy---I'm going to post this and come back and edit it later to put in the links. . . . see ya soon.

posted by: ChefNeal at June 21, 2005 16:01 | link | comments |
soundseeing, podchef, gastrocast

What this week holds

Visitors come today. O joy.

One week of company. Hurray.

I'm not that happy right now. My life has been turned, and will be turned, upside down for the least courteous people I know. At least the house has been cleaned top to bottom. But at some point you just don't care. These aren't people I'm happy to see. They openly bicker and back-bite anyone and everyone, which makes me think what do they say about us when they are inflicting their torture on others? He's a Vegan. She's supposed to be an epileptic-diabetic-I'm-so-riddled-with-disease-I've-simply-got -to-be-special.  It becomes impossible to feed them. There is no way of getting it right for Jack Sprat and his Wife.. And then there is my long suffering Wife. At first she holds me back from myself--helps me to bite my tongue. But by the end of the week, I will be restraining her. I've always wondered what would happen if they saw the Wife as she really is--no not the sweety I love and who gave birth to 5 powerhouse daughter's tho it made her very ill--no, the terror-witch who will protect her young at any cost. In any other age I would have these people institutionalized. One to the psych ward, the other to the old age home for letcherous geezers. That they are so full of bitterness that each will live an aeon to spite the other is no help to our situation. They will still come, uninvited. We won't know when they will arrive or when they leave until a few moments before it happens. Nothing will get done. I will get more grey hair, and those ulcers I layed to rest after the last visit will begin to burkulate.

If I don't post for a few days, or I begin to post a play by play guide to our descent to Hades, forgive me and know it is because the delicate world we have created is even more out of balance than ususal.

You can't choose your parents, but when your near 40 you should at least be able to choose when enough's enough.

posted by: ChefNeal at June 21, 2005 09:09 | link | comments (2) |
life, soundseeing

Please, not so close. . . don't drool

This might not be everyone's cup of caffine. . .and I am not so hung up that I would have spent $1200 each on these. But the way the sun glints off their shells brings a tear to my eyes. . .no, really, its too bright for my baby-blues--somebody pass me the shades.

These replace one massive grill I have lugged around for the past two years--a home built monstrosity which takes 4 people--never around when you need them--to move. Buying these wholesale was the ticket to affordability. Oh, that and renting a van, driving 200 miles and shelling out $50 for gas. . . .and getting to bed after midnight. Let's hope I didn't throw away a dollar to save a penny. Now I just need the work to pay for them. . . .

posted by: ChefNeal at June 17, 2005 15:23 | link | comments (2) |
travel, grills

Drive me crazy

On the mainland today. Just picked up a rental van, so I can have reasonably comfortable travel south. I've got to stop off in Seattle at a Fortune Cookie Factory and then head further south to pick up a pair of massive kettle grills. I'm still close to home, on the mainland. I've got about 3 hours of travel south ahead of me, and I just heard from the gal at the cafe that two of the routes I normally take to get South are blocked due to traffic and construction.
Last time I went south I had my Father-in-law with me, so we could use the express lanes--it was clear sailing. I am now cursing not having someone with me. I wasn't thinking. Not that I actually have any friends who aren't working today who could have made the trip with me. Not that I have any friends who want to spend a whole day grocery shopping on my terms and going to order wedding favors--the grills would be about the only pull. . . . 
I had hoped to be able to buy 4 grills and sell two--that would have paid for one of mine. But no one took the bait. Perhaps if I show them off in action some one will want one. Not many people want a grill which will cook enough food for 50 even if I can get it for them for 40% off.  I probably shouldn't be cutting into profits by buying them, but I can't resist. Truth is, I don't even want to go south driving a big old van.  It beats trying to limp there in a broken down borrowed pick up though. . . .

Check ya later.

posted by: ChefNeal at June 16, 2005 09:49 | link | comments (3) |
travel, mainland

Love it--Hate it

The question has been raised about why I must leave so beautiful a place as my home. The answers are many and varried, and maybe are more of a justification or a way to convince ourselves it is our only option, but I will try to explain.

I suppose this happens in course to many families, and perhaps was more common a thing in the past than it is now in our fractured society. I married into a family which has owned this particular piece of rock for 120 years. Part of an original Homesteader's Act Claim there used to be several hundred more acred of island in the family. Land was cheap here up till the 1980's. Even then prices didn't sky rocket until 1992. In 1929 my father-in-law was born and his mother and father homesteaded a piece of his grandfather's land. In 1952 several hundred acrea had to be sold, for a song, in order to keep the remaining 50 or so. In 1970's all that remained was the current 34 acre farm. Meanwhile in the 60's my in-laws were married and took over 14 acres of the 34. My father-in-law along with 2 uncles and his father, farmed, fished and ran a Sawmill. I now own 1acre where the first sawmill was. A second, modern sawmill still occupies 2 acres in a far corner of the place. It hasn't been run as much as it should in the past few years. The father-in-law is 76 and slowing down. 12 years ago, it was my only source of income and we made enough money with the mill to support the in-laws and us. Wood is hard to get on the island and that limited the milling. We harvested only storm blow-down. A significanlty more risky and time consuming operation than regular logging--but very environmentally sound. Often we were given the logs to clear them away.

I moved out here 14 years ago to get away from my Master's Degree. I never went back. The island has held me in its grasp since. I worked on a farm and drove a truck and did handyman stuff for almost 2 years. When I got married I took a job jackhammering in the foundation for a multi-million dollar house. I was let go after several month because the owner of the house found out I had worked for someone he had a lawsuit with. I was shuffled around within the construction company I was then working for until I got sick of it. It was then that I worked at the mill, lived off of unemployment, built my own house and began to raise my daughter. The Wife had  a job when we were married, took some time off for the birth of Estrogena, and then went back.  Eventually I tired of being MR. Mom and found a great job I was to work at for 8 years. I hit the housing boom here just right and went from lowly laborer to Foreman in a short time. Several expensive homes in the area have my blood, sweat and tears holding them together. These are not track houses--some of them took over a year to build. I was making twice what my wife makes now. Life was great, but we were paying to build a modest house and the costly premature birth of our first twins. We didn't have a lot of surplus cash. When I blew my back out the housing market was slowing down, but we had been trying to move from our island to the island where I was working more and more. That island has huge farms and lush pasture. We were hoping to open a bakery and live on a small farm of our own. We had trouble convincing the rest of the family that we wanted to do this.

The family picture here is: In-laws, next door. Brother-in-law with a change of 2 wives and a girl friend next to them. Sister-in-law, older husbans and urchins a short way from there--all on the same 34 acres. Sis and Hubby and urchins are a fanatical sect of Conservative Christian. Brother's wife one was also this. Wife two was a meth head--opposite. Girl friend, now departed was just white trash. The in-laws are wonderful, salt-of-the-earth types, but very opinionated. Ma Squaw want family harmony at any cost. Pa Kettle just want to live here until he dies.  They still own 13 acres having sold us one. The brother, sister and Wife jointly own the other 20 acres. Herein lies the problem. No one can agree what to do with the place. The Fundies farm the land rent free. We get nothing for it. The brother drags whoever home with him--the son of ex-girl friend was using one corner of the place to stash stolen goods and drugs. Last year at this time we were awash with strangers and wierd going's on. I stumbled across the stash of stolen goods and blew things wide open, but nothing much happend. A lot of night stake outs and trouble. 10 month later things finally cleared up. This is after wife one secretly dragged home a pediphile on the run "in order to save his soul". She eventually married him.

We are caught in the middle. We don't go to the families church. We are independant. We don't fit. For the 8 years I was in construction I was the only adult male of 4 to have a full time job--I paid everyone elses property taxes most of the time.  We should have moved off when we got married. But we had nothing then. Now we are land rich and cash poor. In 13 years of marriage our property has increased in value 8 times. I am physically unable to do most of the jobs available out here. Catering hasn't worked because I am constantly at odds with the ferry system--no boats to get me to and from at the right times. It is costly to spend the night. If we can sell now, we can turn out 7 acres into 70 or 200, or 5 with a big enough house for all 7 of us, and more than one car, and an expanded business.

The only problem with this is that in order to sell all 4 parties who own land have to agree to sell together. Our acre is valuless because we can't have our own well--water comes from the 20 acres, and we have the inlaws septic tank on our 1 acre. No one will buy an waterfront acre with a dock in front they cannot use (we don't own the dock) and other people's water and septic. . . .The in-laws will need to sell soon for reasons of health--the nearst good health care is on the mainland, over an hour away. But nostalgia binds the Father.  The brother lives rent free and uses the dock for his work--of course he doesn't want to sell. Ditto for Sis and paupers--they live on very little money and would be just as happy to have no power and only horses. They stubbornly cling to the right to live in Grandpa's original homestead house, even though it is falling down around their heads and they won't spend money to maintain it. (Does this sound like Appalachia?) They try to farm land which is in appropriate to support thier needs. If only one family could control the whole 34 acres then something could be done and the land would support them. But fractured as it is it doesn't work.

In the meanwhile property taxes have trippled, electricity costs are scheduled to double--we were buffered from the national problems this long thanks to a cooperative deal to pre-purchase power at a fixed price till 2006 five years ago. And the ferry system keeps cutting service and raising prices. This means we can't all go off the island together (even if we had a car which would hold 7 of us and groceries)--it would be $80 at least each time. There goes dance lessons, pony club, etc. The Wife and I don't control enough field space to have horses or any livestock.

Of course I could get a job on the mainland and commute. I have tried. I would need to make a minimum of $25 per hour. There aren't many of those jobs out there for an English/Philosopy major with a dodgy back, carpentry and cooking experience. As there is almost no one on the island any more--we used to afford a nanny, but she moved away when she married--we can trust our kids with, so one of us has to be home. Then factor in commuting costs. . .$5 per hour alone, things get tight. Fortunately the Wife has an okay job on another island and can walk on the ferry there which doesn't cost anything. We live in an increasingly expensive place with dwindling opportunities.

If I could write the next great American Novel, sell my story to E! or something, then we could buy out the in-laws, add on to the 1200sqft two bedroom house, import better soil and perhaps live here. That, or win the lottery. Until then we hate to love this place, love to hate it and dream of acerage and a life of our own somewhere near farmer's markets, clients and opportunity for the girls. If I had only sued for malpractice during my back injury. . . .

posted by: ChefNeal at June 14, 2005 09:58 | link | comments (3) |
island life, life

Yankee Patriotism

succession (as in "acquisition") n. : acquisition of property by descent or by will

I am a bit confused this morning. Well, more than ususal perhaps. I am having my second espresso of the day, but I have stil not let the darling hens out. It is windy, cold and grey with scudding bursts of sunlight and blue sky. I am working on wedding stuff, but otherwise unambitious.  Nevertheless I am plauged with a memory I can't quite place.

This was all sparked off by annoyance with our Government. No, not about the usual political stuff. . . my calouses and thick skin pretty much help block out and buffer any outrage I feel on the day to day crapola. No, I am peeved at the USDA for this and other things. All of which sparked off the oft thought comment from the Wife--maybe we should move to Ireland. Fantasy I know. But a healthy one--unlike the fantasy of, say, our meats are free from chemical or biological problems. . . . But I drift off topic. . . .

The feeling that we are not getting what we want from our government--local or federal--is nothing new. I am not a politcial person. I have too many skeletons hanging about to enter any office, other than Director of Sewage. But as I get more crotchety in my pain and unemployeedness, I am completely disillusioned with the current state of things. This has led me to my memory--or lack of it.

I grew up in a very patriotic town. It was steeped in history. A walk in the woods could take you back centuries. Ruins of houses, mills, farms all hid beneath the moss of time. I found several Indian artifacts in my back yard. Neighbors took part in Revolutionary War reenactments and a Fife and Drum regiment met during Summer evenings in the field behind my house. I would drift off to sleep to the sounds of Yankee Doodle, and The Duke of York's March.  We were patriots, but Yankee Patriots--a descenting breed. The first two times I got to vote I went Libertarian.
South of us, but still part of our town there was a small community. My problem today is I cannot remember the name of the "town" or area for which it was called. On the drive south you would leave the main built up area of the small village, and as the road narrowed and passed over a small stream on a stone bridge there were signs proclaiming the independance of this name-forgotten town/village/hamlet. I can still see everything vividly although I haven't been near there since high school. I used to know the stream well and the entire woods behind the town. The abandoned bank, a mill--forgotten industry from the fight for Independance. I think the place is named something Indian, or after a derivation of Nutmeg--this is after all in the Nutmeg State. I used to know, but why Nutmeg?

This is all a long way of telling ye (sorry, a bit of Irish dropped in there--which is actually correct English) that this community--some 350 strong--actually made a huge effort to suceed--if this is the right word: I can't believe I'm not even 40 and my memory is failing me so. . . . I don't think they wished to break off completely from the United States. Perhaps it was they wanted to be their own State--yes, I think that's it. A state about half the size of Rhode Island. I don't know how close they made it but I do know it took up quite a bit of my pre-teen life. It was the talk of perhaps 5 or 6 years.

Out here in the islands, in quite a different part of the country but also an independent sort of place made up of disaffected people from everywhere, since the late 1800's, we jokingly say when we head to the mainland that we are going "to America". That's what it feels like. We enter a foreign country. Now, we are close to Canada and for along time smugglers used these islands (still do--wool, cigarettes, drugs: you'd be surprised) to hide out in. Why couldn't we just break away and be a self-governing independent state or commonwealth--something of that sort. . . ? Nice to daydream about, perhaps. But how many others have tried? Back in 1974 what would have happened if an hornery group of Yankee Curmudgeons has been sucessful in their attempt to create the 51st state? Perhaps I never would have left. . . .

posted by: ChefNeal at June 13, 2005 12:43 | link | comments (2) |
life, thoughts

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