Golden Feeling August 21, 2008

I’m enjoying today.  It’s a new holiday in Panama. One to celebrate the first Gold medal ever achieved by a Panamanian. I tip my chef hat to you, Irving Saladino.  You put us on the map. Of only four Olympic hopefuls from our country, you got the job done.  So many of us come from so far to make a mark and you made the biggest one of all. You inspire us to try harder, run faster, do better, to be Gold.  A little black boy from Colon has become a rock star.  It’s because of you que “Alcanzamos por fin la victoria.”  That is we “finally reached victory.” That is the first line of our national anthem and today it rings more true than ever before.  On this day and from this day forth go out and put a little Saladino in your step. Try your best. If it’s not good enough then try harder and you will see. It will all pay off. You will wrap yourself in your flag and know that where you came from brought you to where you are. You’ll get on your knees and thank the one who made it happen.  I know I’m going to step my game up because the truth is people rarely remember silver and bronze but it’s hard to forget gold.  Go for the gold.

Dre 

Happy Fourth of July! July 4, 2008

So it’s a holiday and you guys are bbqing or chillin or whatever and I am working.  I have plans with a friend when I get off. I guess I’ll see how that goes.  Since I have to work on a lot of holidays I’ve made a conscious decision to have fun no matter what. The main thing is always festive headgear. I’m wearing a really tall hat that is very cat in the hat meets yankee doodle and star shaped beads around my neck that are red, white, and blue. The customers really dig it. I’ve gotten a lot of  compliments.  I’m not sure why. Is it really the hat or is it that I’m secure enough to wear a silly ass hat to work and act like it’s normal.  When the regional president came to walk through the store in march I was wearing a headband with shamrocks on them. They said “Let your…Sham Rock!”  He stopped and told me he liked them.  Thankfully I work at a place that allows you freedom to express your creativity and be yourself, much like the US.  So on this day that we celebrate freedom have fun and be free.  When this day is over know that you are free to do as you please within reason.  That’s what being American is all about.  Well guys, my break is almost over so I’m going to put my silly hat on and go back to work. Have fun and be safe today!

~andiepandie31

Dear Daddy, June 11, 2008

This is a letter I’m sending to my Dad for Father’s day.  It may seem that there are a lot of grammatical errors but I wrote it the way I would speak to him, as they call it back home; flat.  A broken English dialect with the Queen’s English, mixed with Spanish, all spoken in an island accent. I hope you enjoy.

 

Dear Daddy,

Happy Father’s Day! Hope you passing well. Tranquilo, as you say. I just here chillin. I got the stuff you sent for me with Jessica. Thanks! I love it all. I not doin too much today. I off from work already and I going just relax for the rest of the day.  I making croquette for dinner today. Just like you showed me so long ago. You taught me so many things. I remember them all. Remember when you showed me how to make Coo Coo? Would you believe when I was in Culinary school at one of our fancy Grand Buffets guess what them had to eat? Coo Coo! On the menu they called it Fungi. I thought to myself , ” No way! These people all excited about this, that’s old news, my father showed me how to make this when I was ten.” I never told you this but I wrote a essay about the oven you did buy me that won me a scholarship for school.  They essay was about how I loved to bake and how you bought me a convection oven to I wouldn’t have to mess with the gas one.  The people was like? You mean an Easy Bake oven. “No,” I said, “A real oven” I guess they thought it was strange to buy a nine year old an appliance.  You have done a lot of things for me that have seemed strange to others at the time but you were trying to shape me as a person. Remember when we went to eat at Playa Corona? I wanted to order a lobster and Ma said no. She said it was too much food for me and I might not like it.  You her told if I wanted to try it, then I should.  How will she know if she like it if she don’t try it? As you sat there eating your plate of fish you asked me if I liked it? “Yes Daddy, I love it” I ate it all. Man I can almost taste it now.  You know I have always carried that with me. Whenever there is something I think I might like I try it because like you said how will I know if I like it.  You know Daddy it’s no wonder I’m a chef. You love food and hard work.  That’s what I do all day every day.  Jessica told me about the day you spoke with me on the phone and when you got off you said “Andrea does work hard ah?” That made me feel so good. You told me you were proud of me at graduation. That made me feel so good Daddy. I just was want to impress you because you impress me.  You are a good father Daddy. You are a great father Daddy. I love you so much. Happy Father’s day. Alright then. Bien Bien.

Love,

Lupi

Answers to Lou’s question June 8, 2008

My brother in law, Lou, asked me what I do on an average Friday night.  In true Lou fashion it was an excellent question.  I don’t do much when I’m not at work.  So my dear Lou to answer your question I:

1. Clean. There is however so much cleaning I can do. I live in a one bedroom condo. 

2. Play with one of the cats as the other one doesn’t care for me much. I got Chica to keep Kitty Jones company.  Too bad for me, Chica doesn’t like me.  Too bad for Chica, Kitty Jones hates her.  They fight constantly. What was supposed to be a story book relationship of two cats frolicking through the house is actually an hourly brawl. I think Kitty Jones resents me for bringing home another animal. I just can’t win.

3. Listen to music.  Right now I’m listening to the Beach boys. Earlier… Christmas music. God only knows and Carol of the Bells, thank God for the Ipod Shuffle.

4. Watch way too much TV. There are my first tier favorite shows like King of the Hill. Then there are my second tier favorite shows like the trashy goodness that is reality dating shows.  You know the ones, Rock of Love, The Bachelor, Flavor of Love, and my new favorite Farmer wants a Wife.  Then there is “make-you-feel-better” TV like Maury which I watch when I think my life sucks.  Then I end up with hurt feelings when a girl who brings on 5 guys for a paternity test has an understanding and supportive fiancee.  I shake my head in disgust.  SHE’S ENGAGED!?!?!?! Damn… my life really does suck.

5. Stare at my phone wondering why no one loves me and willing it to ring. If it does it’s usually Shaunica.  I love her so.  The only downside of her calling me is that after twenty or so minutes of lovely conversation she tells me a horrible “Marine story” that leave me with a dropped jaw.  I have limited her to one story per call.  I can’t handle more than that.

6. Talk to my sisters. With your wife we exchange witty banter, call each other idiots, press the keypad on the phone to annoy each other, she lectures me on whatever problem I’m having, she berates me for not interjecting at the appropriate times with “mmm. , really? , you don’t say. , shut yo mouth!”, we talk about Hell’s Kitchen then tell each other we are spent and hang up. With Liza I sit there and listen to her fabulous stories, she encourages me, then she usually has to go to do something awesome.  After I hang up I usually throw up.  I have a condition called I-hate-my-life-itis that causes me to vomit when I come in contact with someone who seems to have a perfect life. In case you are not hip on my sense of humor the last two statements were meant to be a joke. GOD! I’M SO MISUNDERSTOOD!

7. Cook. Usually in the buff but since burning my chest while cooking bacon have since used a bib apron. If I’m not cooking I’m reading a cookbook to get my next meal idea. I’ve been known to mutter the phrase “giggity goo” while reading.

8.  Make crafts. I made a journal last week.  Before that picture frames. I am expecting my friend Shawna and her daughter Shelby soon so we can turn an old cocoa powder tin into a waste basket.  I have one in my bedroom that she thought was cute so I’m gonna help her make one for her room.

9. Make plans I don’t follow through with maybe I’ll go to the pool today, maybe I’ll work out today, maybe I’ll blog today, Maybe I’ll finish one of the five books I’ve started, Maybe I’ll… you get the picture.

10. Wait for the weekly phone call from my parents.  With my Dad it’s a short and sweet two min call.  He gets out what he wants to say, he asks me if I’m ok, then gets off the phone.  You never know how long the call with my mom will last. She usually has a lot to say which is good because I am usually in the mood to listen a lot. 

So anyway that’s what I do on the norm.  I used to go to midnight sushi but then the manager was rude to me and tried to force me to eat bad squid so I haven’t been back.  I planned on posting a picture of my cats fighting but I can’t figure out how to do it. Shoot!

Thievery and such… February 28, 2008

So let’s talk about stealing. Theft. Shrinkage. Five finger discounts.  It’s a problem in any business.  I was watching American Gangster and I thought his solution to the problem was really interesting. Everybody in his drug lab was stark naked. No pockets- no shrinkage.  In my industry that solution would not work. It would also be very unsanitary. I tell you one thing though, the hairnet business would boom. LoL Anyway working with food there is a need to taste to make sure it’s ok but where does a taste turn into stealing? My company defines a sample as two ounces. Anything more than that and you’re stealing which is a fire-able offense. No warning. Just termination.  I will illustrate examples of different ends of the spectrum when it comes to this problem.

Thirteen Cents…

A lower level member of the management team was prepping for breakfast.  He took several sheet pans of apple-wood smoked bacon out of the oven and decided to treat himself to a few pieces. I can’t really blame him. Have you had that kind of bacon? Stop reading and go buy some now.  It is so worth the trip. No big deal right? Wrong. Our store manager came by and asked him what he was doing. His response was ” Just prepping for breakfast and eating a couple strips of bacon.” Next thing he knew he was upstairs getting fired. My boss who sat in as a witness came directly downstairs to warn us of what had just happened and not to let it happen to us.

My friends Tom had a severe reaction to the news “Jesus Christ! What ever happened to a warning?” My bosse’s response was one of those that you didn’t want to hear.  “They don’t have to warn us.  We signed a document stating we read the handbook.  That was in the handbook.” 

Numb shock doesn’t begin to describe how that made all of us feel. Every other place I’ve worked we were chowing down all day long.  We never thought about it but we were stealing.  It’s something about knowing someone got fired for thirteen cents worth of bacon that changes you.

Thousands of dollars…

 One weekend I was off which is huge because I never get two days in a row. When I came back half our meat department was gone.  Reason: They had been fixing themselves t-bone steaks and tenderloins for lunch every day for three months and never paid a dime.  When four people eat expensive cuts of meat everyday for three months that comes out to be a lot of money.  The department had been in the red for a combination of reasons but theft was a big part of it.

So who likes thieves? I don’t.  Although, my mom taught me that you can trust a thief more than a liar since you can count on a thief to steal and you can’t distinguish when a liar is lying. Well I think all of us are thieves in our own way. Eating grapes at the supermarket, stealing change from the toll machines, taking an extra newspaper when you only paid for one, or taking towels or washcloths at hotels. We can’t say

“Oh that’s different.”

because you are affecting someone in some way.  Although it seems like my boss was being harsh for firing that guy he was trying to send a message. Everybody was scared to death to even taste stuff.  No one thought their job was worth the bite.  

Some of you may have noticed I changed the name of my blog.  I was inspired to write this because I stole the title from an ex coworker.  At first I was indignant that it was different and I wasn’t really stealing but when you got rid of all the words only one was left. THIEF.  I don’t want to be that. I want for people to have at least a moderate amount of trust in me like they do at the Self checkout.  No one watches you like a hawk.  They trust that you won’t steal. and although they do check your receipt I’m sure not so trust worthy people walk out with stolen items. That’s not me though. Thirteen cents of bacon, Thousands of dollars worth of meat, Michael Greene’s title.  I need to remove myself from that list. So here I go: Michael, I’m sorry.  Shelf Life is yours. I’ll stick to being original.

 Feeling a little better,

andiepandie31 

Laundry Baskets February 14, 2008

8/14/07 

When I was eight years old the US invaded Panama to capture our president and dictator Manuel Noriega. On Dec 21, 1989 during Christmas break my world was turned, not upside down, but slightly sideways as I awoke to find my parent at home, instead of at work, glued to the television.  In the weeks that came to follow we became prisoners of our town or Pedro  Miguel as we couldn’t leave or we would be shot. Although my father always kept the house full of food and surely he had prepared for this, My
eight year old mind told be we had nothing to eat because we were out of comfort food. Cereal, bread, milk, ect. We had two refrigerators and a deep frezzer full of meat, rice and other staples but I missed my luxuries which up until then I had considered a right and a nessecity. You know how kids are. If you don’t have what they like then you hear “There is nothing to eat” and they really believe that.  I remember going to the mini mart in Paraiso, a town five minutes away, with my mom to get some things. The place was completely empty. There was no food. One day we heard news that American soldiers would bring food. Some of the other families in the neighborhood had not prepared as well as mine and they were down to the wire. The mothers grabbed their laundry baskets and headed to the soccer field in the middle of the neighborhood and we stood, and waited for them to come.

Stood
Waited
Then waited some more

I remember thinking about how I thought they would arrive and found myself staring at the sky thinking they would drop it from overhead.  Interestingly enough, it was like a big party or something. They stood
 around, talked, laughed and held their laundry baskets hoping that when they went home it would be filled.

Turns out, they didn’t come that day.

I’m not sure when or where it happened but they did bring food. They gave us their food. MREs or Meals ready to eat. I can’t remember how long we ate those things but if I had to guess I would say at least two weeks.   Maybe more. Some say they taste nasty but I love MREs. They had an entree with a side and even a little pouch of dessert. For me it was like an  adult craker jack box because there was always something really cool in there, like a tiny bottle of Tabasco, sometimes gum. Finally, I got my snacks back, so to me we had food again. Some people, especially chefs, tend to put too much emphasis on food and how it taste – the quality and flavor. If its edible then it’s food. Gourmet has nothing to do with it.

In college my suitemate did a unit for her education block and wrote to receive MRE’s for a class demo. They sent her so many that she gave me a whole box. I sat on bed and opened one. As I started eating I felt transported back to my life as an eight-year-old kid growing up in Panama. The twenty year old me felt gratitude for the first time for what they did. Sharing their food. I realized the impact of what they did.

You would have think that would have done it for me but I would get another lesson in hunger.
When I was sixteen my church youth group planed a “Feed the Poor.” We came the night before and made sandwiches and packed the lunches with juice boxes and fruit. I remember there being an extra tangerine and I tore into it. My friend Anasha said why don’t you just put in a bag. I shrugged.

“It’s no big deal”

We laughed. And it was no big deal, until the next morning. We set out at six to deliver the 100 bags we had packed. Our first stop was Calidonia. A place I had been before while on shopping trips with my mom or friends but I saw a new side to that place that morning. Our youth group leader called out Desayuno! Meaning breakfast and people started coming out of nowhere. I was so overwhelmed I had to catch my breath. I just started handing out bags along with my friends but soon we had to leave.

“Andrea let’s go.” they called out.

A woman grabbed my arm and begged me to stay.

“Just one more bag.Please for my father. He can’t walk.”
I’m sorry
“Please young lady, please”
I’m sorry”

I was the last to get in the car. “We had to leave. There are other places we have to go” Sheryl our group leader explained.

“One more bag turns into twenty, we had to go.”

We left and headed for Avenida Balboa, a street with a view of the ocean where my friend Ronny saw a woman crawl out of the sewer. He gave her bag and her face lit up. He later said he would never forget that image. While driving by Curundu, Darcye handed a bag out the window to a man walking and got a shock.

“No way! Oh my god, no way”
What Darcye what?
“That used to be my baseball coach when I was little.”
Ah man.

That was when it became too much for me. Who were these people we were helping. How did it get this way for them? Could that be me? Yep. It could. I slumped back in the chair and became withdrawn. I couldn’t bring myself to do anything but stare ahead. I didn’t and couldn’t say a word. Sheryl noticed my changed.

Andrea…..Andrea…
“Andrea’s upset” said Shaunica

Looking back I remember a grin on her face. She realized the lesson for the day was being learned and she knew would never be forgotten. When we were finished we went to McDonalds although I don’t know how we ate. I for one was not hungry and not sure how I would ever eat the same way again.

So no moral this week, just one word of advice. The next time someone on the street asks you for money for something to eat
Think.
Think of what I’ve said.
Think of the empty laundry baskets and the woman from the sewer.
Think of the last time you were really hungry… then think about what
it would be like to compound that feeling with not knowing where the nextmeal will come from.
For me – just think.

Still thinking,
andiepandie31

Viniculture February 9, 2008

8/2/06 

When I sat down with my advisor to pick classes for my final quarter we
discovered I was 2 credits short of being considered a full time student
which is required to get finacial aid so she allowed me to chose a filler
class and I chose Viniculture.
Viniculture is the study of wine and wine production. To quote Dave
Chappelle:

“IT’LL GET YOU DRUNK!”

was the only thing I knew about wine. I wanted to learn practical
information to use in cooking as well as have an educated conversation over
dinner or at a wine tasting. (and who was I kidding, I would get to drink
on the school’s tab. Whoo!!)

So now every Monday I get to sit in class and sip wine. My teacher presents
me with a small plate with several cheeses; Bleu, Guryere, Brie, and/ or
Goat. As well as chocolate and dried cherries. One time we even got bread.
We look at the wine, then smell it, then taste it and take notes on it.
Then we taste it with the items on our plate to determine appropriate food
pairings.

It is a lovely time! Pity you weren’t invited.

The first day we drank I had a hectic day and forgot to eat before class, so
by the time I got done tasting 4 wines I was cheery to say the least.
Lesson learned, I packed a sandwich the next week. It doesn’t matter
though. Whoever I dial when I get out of class usually gets an earful of
tipsy talk. This class helps me deal with the fact that I am spread so thin
this quarter. It’s fun and interesting. I don’t even mind getting tested
because I like to see if I’m actually getting anything out of the class.

I friggin love it!

My tip for you is to go out and study up on something you find interesting;
even if it doesn’t fit in the curriculum of your life. It doesn’t hurt to
learn – it might however get you drunk.

In the wine aisle,
andiepandie31

Misunderstandings February 9, 2008

5/29/06

My dear friend Nina went to a Cuban restaurant in Philly with her mother.
Or maybe it was DC I’m not really sure. Anyway they carefully reviewed the
menu and when the waiter came Nina’s mother began to order her meal in
Spanish. Before she could finish the server cut her off. It went something
like this:

“Si por favor quiero el sancocho con….”

“I’m sorry m’am I don’t speak Spanish.”

This was, as we would say at work “no bueno, no pinche bueno.” Nina’s
mother, appalled as she was, turned to the waiter and said

“25 dollars a plate and you don’t speak spanish?!?!?!?!”

That is when Nina’s story trailed off. She ended it by saying we haven’t
been back since and I don’t think we’ll ever go back there again.

When my mother comes to the states and goes to McDonalds, it is an uphill
battle. She orders the small value meal but small in the US is not the same
as small in Panama. Small in the US is what large is in Panama. When the
food is put on the tray she gets upset.

“This is not small” Confused, the person behind the counter says “Yes it is”
So then begins the lecture on how in Panama, things are smaller. “ Who
could eat all this food” she says, “not me!” Come to think of it we haven’t
taken my mother to Mcdonalds in a while. Why would we? She might try to
order chicken. Which by the way is available at Mickey D’s in Panama. Along
with chicken and rice and empanadas. Yet I digress.

In March of 2003 me and three friends piled in the car and went to Houston
to visit my sister. At the end of our visit we went to a Mediterranean
restaurant which my sister has since informed me closed down. We ordered
appetizers and a huka which is this large tobacco water pipe that is popular
in the middle east. We estimated that we had spent about $10 a piece, so
when our bill came we were shocked. What should have been a $70-$80 bill
turned out to be about $140. Seems there was a required spending minimum of
$25 per guest on weekends. Our server cut us a deal and basically ended up
with a fat tip. We disputed the bill but he showed us the sign. The 8×10
sign, waist level below the register. What more could we do but pay. We also 
took pictures of our faces looking at the bill and our empty wallets so we
could always remember the day we got hosed.

My moral for today is something I realized when I tied these stories
together:

Expect the unexpected when eating out.

Still broke from that day,
andiepandie31

Satisfied Customers February 7, 2008

5/4/06

I work at TRIO market and I love it. My position is pastry cook. I get to
make desserts all day and put them in the case and when people come by and
say:

“OOOH did you make that? It’s beautiful”

I get to smile and say

“Yes, I did”

and I get so excited because I see the flaws and so does my boss but my
customer sees perfection. I chose pastry because it makes people happy.
I’ve seen grown men get as giddy as children at the thought of a decadent
dessert. I also seen people so humbled by the look of a beautiful clean
dessert that they damn near melt into the floor.
Pleasing customers is my number one priority. It doesn’t matter if I like
it, or if my boss likes it. It matters if the customer likes it. At school
we create a lot of things and we get critiqued by our classmates and teacher
but in certain classes we get to be critiqued by family and friends. We
put on what we call “Grand buffets” and we take the things we have been
taught and make it our own. In advanced pastry one of the things we learned
was sorbets, ice creams, and granites. To make it my own I created a Hibiscus and ginger sorbet or to you “real Panamanians” out there “sarril” My sister promised she would come and I was beside myself with
excitement and even made palmiers or “orejas” as we call them back home. My sorbet didn’t work out at first and my teacher had to help me to make it right. When it was done my class and teacher loved it. A couple other pastry instructors came in and tried it and liked it to but it didn’t matter
to me because my customer was not them. It was Liza. My friend Miranda experienced something similar when we made bread showpieces and she made a bread plaque for her brother who was graduating,
with a little chef made out of bread. We were all floored by her piece because it was flawless and beautiful but she didn’t care what we thought. She needed the approval or her mother and brother.

Finally the big day came and I was nervous. Tons of people came through and
tried my sorbet. Older students I respected, former professors, and even
the Dean of students. They liked it but again…who cares. Liza ate dinner
first and when she walked up to the dessert station and I handed her a cup
of it.

It’s good, she said and then ate some more

I took a sigh of relief and at that moment I knew I was done. I put my
heart and soul into it and she liked it, so I had done my job. If you
wonder why cooks get mad when you send food back, I’ll tell you. It’s like
calling someone’s baby ugly. We love our food and we just want you to love
it too.

My tip to you is not to forget to compliment things that you think are good.
Sometimes it’s not what we want, it’s what we need.

La pastelera (the pastry chef)
andiepandie31 

Guess who is comming to Dinner February 5, 2008

4/18/06 

For foodservice personnel the holidays are always hectic.  While most of
you are taking off to visit family, we are prepping extra catering orders so
that you will be able to take a pie to Thanksgiving dinner, a bouche de noel
to Christmas dinner, or 2 dozen chocolate dipped strawberries to your
Valentine.  Getting a day off during this time is tough and since my
family lives far away from me, travel is out of the question, because by the
time I get there, it will be time to come back.

Thanksgiving Day was my first day off in a while during the holidays,
and I eagerly welcomed it because I had the chance to put on regular clothes,
and look like a girl and not have food be the center my life, I got eat not make.  My friend Miranda invited me over to her mother’s house for dinner in a tiny little town called Kirk, AL.  I got
lost on the way there and then lost reception on my phone, and all I could
think was God please let me find her soon, so I don’t run in to a redneck  
convention and get killed.  Anyway, I found the house and she walked me
inside.

As soon as I hit the door I started to feel nervous;

Have you ever had 47 people all the same race, all in the same room, try

not to look surprised to see you? Well I have.  It’s really strange and
in retrospect kind of funny.  I should have yelled “BOO” but I guess that
would not have been nice of me.  Miranda and her mom did their best at making
me feel comfortable and after about half hour I did.  We sat on the couch
chatting it up and I ate some of the best food I’ve ever had.  As I sat
there I started to feel very grateful that they didn’t want me alone on
a Holiday, despite the fact I was pretty much a pink elephant in the room.

It meant a lot to me. My mind drifted and I thought about special meals
I had shared in the past and the people associated with the memory, and I
realized that I wanted a day off so my life wouldn’t be centered on
food, but some of my best memories were made over meals.  So I say to you
something that my friend Barbara had attached to an email…

Food is life, the rest is just parsley.

Love,
andiepandie31