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
Kobe Beef January 22, 2008
12/8/05
My chef once told me that when I die, I should ask to be sent back as a
Peabody duck because of their plush life style, today I would like to tell
you about another “lucky” animal- Kobe calves. Kobe is a brand of beef,
kind of like Bulkhead, except it’s from Japan. Laws in Japan aren’t as
strict as they are in the US. Kobe beef is some of the most expensive meat
around because it is so tender. The calves are leashed to the ground to
restrict movement and are given full out massages everyday to keep their
meat tender. They are only fed milk and oats. After a few months of
getting to lie around in their own personal spa they are slaughtered.
The store I work at is selling beef tenderloins for Christmas that weigh
between 5-6 lbs. The average Joe tenderloins go for $149 each. Can you
guess how much Kobe’s are? $349. For you math majors that comes out to
about $60 a lb. Now that’s expensive meat. Personally, I am opposed to
veal; especially Kobe but who cares right, I can’t afford it anyway.
My sister said I should eat to live not live to eat and my ex roommate the
doctor talked me out of becoming a vegetarian by telling me that humans are
meant to eat meat and the proof is in our teeth. Now that being said I will
eat meat but not that of a baby cow who is kept under unimaginable
conditions for its short life.
For those of you who can afford it; know that luxury doesn’t have to mean
cruelty.
That chef with morals – andiepandie31
A bad day in foodservice January 22, 2008
11/28/05
We all have bad days. Terrible, horrible, I don’t want to get out of bed
days. Some of you have it everyday. I hardly ever have one because I LOVE
MY JOB. It’s kind of like high school. You don’t want to be absent because
you might miss some drama. When I do have a bad day I just try to pray it
away because you don’t want to have a bad day in food service. You can’t
just lock yourself in your office because no one has one not even your god
(the executive chef) everyone is in everyone else’s face.
My first pastryteacher taught us that if the pressure gets too high just don’t cry in front of everyone. Go to the bathroom or the walk in cooler. Well imagine my
surprise when both of those places were occupied so I being the genius that
I am went to have a good cry in the freezer. The freezer is kept at about
15 degrees F so of course my tears froze to my face. I kept trying to wipe
them away but none such luck so as I stumbled out of my “office” everyone
looked up as to say “What the hell happened to you?!?” To make a long story
even longer, I never did that again.
A person is smart, people are stupid. Don’t believe me? Come stand next to
me at work and hand out signs to all the stupid people. We make bread
pudding, package it in container and sell it for 5.99. Well a customer came
in and decided she couldn’t eat it all so she asked if she could buy half
and I thought, sure!! Here is half a coke, half a bag a chips, and the other
half of your brain.
One faithful Saturday we ran out of cinnamon rolls…oh the tragedy. The
number of people that came by to double check that fact was an even bigger
one. “Um excuse me ma’am are you sure you don’t have anymore cinnamon
rolls.”, “Um yeah”……….. Fifteen minutes later “Ma’am are you sure your
out of cinnamon rolls, do you have any in the back?” OK stop! What makes
people think I would lie to them? Just for kicks or to lose money?
Another tip: There is such a thing as a stupid question.
Chef andiepandie31
