a story about everyone's favorite person: zach braff

so, my friend MS and her little sister V, are, like all of us, obsessed with old zach and his blog.

V, still being in high school and all, has a larger window of opportunity each day to spend studying the blog than, say, you or i might.

so when old zach posted the phone number for a cell phone that he and donald faison got together, so that fans could call in and leave messages and feedback about the tv show, of course V was able to write down the number in her secret hello kitty diary (with a lock on it!) before zach edited his blog--apparently regretting his decision to post his unlisted contact information on the internet--and took down his digits mere hours later.

for days, V and her friends crafted the perfect voicemail for her to leave on the phone, complete with a meaningful and metaphor-ridden account of why she and zach are meant for each other, before she worked up the gall to make the call.

finally, one morning, she called.

the phone rang.

and rang.

and rang.

V's heart was beating hard and fast, in anticipation of that BEEP.

and then, the unexpected happened.

someone picked up.


i have to go to sleep now, so come back tomorrow and i'll tell you the rest of the story. V, M, and family: i hope i'm doing the story justice. and i hope you like the part about the hello kitty diary. see you later.
NAL gave me one of every color sharpie, each labeled with something about me, so that if i lend or lose it at work, there's no way that anyone can dispute my ownership. my favorite one is: "even if you don't have a question, samin's got an answer." i can't wait to debut them tomorrow.

to market, to market

i'm over at la sassy's house on this gray and foggy saturday afternoon.

i walked though the berkeley farmer's market on my way to the eye doctor this morning. i spied some lovely kiwi and citrus fruits (oh, blood oranges, how i miss you!). we had some delicious little mandarins from riverdog at work this week, but i didn't see any of them at the market.

my eye exam revealed a slight deterioration of my eyesight, but everything was better than i'd been expecting, and soon i'll get my new lenses, so i can see again.

then i went to the city to meet A and J at the ferry building. jeez, i haven't been there in a loooooong time. we saw kermit at the wine shop, where he was signing his new book, and we saw peggy over at artisan cheese (woah, their site has improved dramatically since the last time i went there!). we were starving, so we tried to eat at the slanted door, but they were booked, so we went to mijita instead. it was decent, and affordable. definitely cute.

then. after a little puppy ogling (a golden doodle), we went through the farmer's market. pretty much everyone has a stall these days--i was really out of it. frog hollow even has a shop--i stopped in to say hi to al, and becky was there, too--a nice surprise. rick knoll has a stall (cardoons!), and then we stopped by june taylor's to say hi, and she said that her place just down the road from us will be opening soon, a kitchen with a little shop front. that'll be really cute.

then we swung by ciao bella (though it was difficult for me to decide between them and miette) for something sweet. i had some blood orange and vanilla gelato, and i'm happy to say that their stuff doesn't hold a candle to our new pastry person, who is a gelato master. her burnt caramel gelato is the best ice cream i've ever tasted. amazing.

now, i'm just trying my best not to do anything.

i'm tired. i'm burnt out. i need a break. and some direction. maybe even some medical attention.

my hands are ruined--covered with burns, blisters, scabs and scars. my back hurts. i'm 25 and my back hurts. my feet are always sore. i feel like i'm on the verge of something scary, and i don't really quite know what to do about it. meh.

funky chicken

i had to leave work early today. i had a breakdown.

i've been weighed down with too much responsibility there. i love being bossy, as i'm sure we all know, but it's difficult when it's your job to be bossy, and to people WHO DON'T LISTEN. i've started to dread going to work.

somehow, i've become in charge of everyone around me. i am the police. i have to keep an eye on everything around, and i can't deal with it anymore. i never asked for this responsibility, and i don't know if i can handle it. restaurants (though none i've ever worked in) are typically really hierarchical and everyone has a role and a title and blahdiblahdiblah. most of our new cooks are used to that, and they cannot seem to understand that i actually know what i am doing, even though i don't have some fancy french label. contrary to popular belief, i'm not mentally
deficient.

the people who run our restaurant are the ones who taught me how to cook. i pretty much do everything the way i know they'd want me to do it, and if i see someone doing something awful and heartbreaking, then i'm going to jump in and stop it. just because i seem frazzled and kooky doesn't mean i don't know what i'm doing. just because i joke around and talk a lot doesn't mean i don't get my work done. in case you work with me and have somehow found my blog, these next couple of lines are for you: i am ALWAYS ready on time. i never burn pan after pan of croutons. i don't scorch sauces. i chop my parsley as finely as sand, and i pound my garlic until it's as thin as toothpaste. my fire is never too hot or about to die. when someone in charge tells me to do something, i do it. i don't ever complain about having too much work. and damn it, i get my food out quickly.

i'm not saying i'm a genius cook, but when you can honestly say the same things about yourself, then you can start giving me attitude. but until then, swallow your damned pride and listen to me. wouldn't you rather have me on your case than the chef?

i'm sick of attitude from everyone. now, even the intern who's never worked in a restaurant is shoving it at me. the same intern for whom i got the job. i'm sick of people.

p.s. it's so cold in my house right now that i can see my breath
what can i say? i'm tired. i've been working and working and working.

the good news is, i discovered mint m&ms the other day.

the bad news is, i haven't been this tired in my life. ever. and i have to work till thursday.
bleh.


other good news is that i have finally figured this job out. just stay calm, and everything will be fine. i've discovered that the less i panic, the easier things are.

blah

i feel gross. i've been in a bad mood for what feels like weeks now, and i just don't know how to get out of this funk. i'm tired at work, at home, and everywhere in between.

i don't think that journalism school is the right thing for me, and so i doubt i'll even bother finishing the application. it was just one of those big ideas i have and never follow through with.

yesterday, i got not one, but two interruptive international phone calls at work that just screwed me up emotionally, and helped me fall behind for the day. i just don't know where anything is going anymore.

i decided i don't want a digicam after all. i may or may not get a cheapo one to have around, but i'm thinking i might just stick with my good old film camera for just a bit longer. in the meantime, i'm considering a photo class at cca. i have to stop getting so caught up with STUFF.

i've been getting headaches almost every day for the past couple of weeks, and it stinks.

the worst part of all of this is that i just don't know what i want.



sunday's new york times was full of stuff just for me:

first, there was the article on fanny (what's up with these articles on fanny that have nothing to do with anything? at least the food and wine one had that lovely bit about the cookbook that all of alice's friends put together.) my favorite parts were the quail bones and the smuggled blueberries.

then, the style guide practically defined our restaurant, piece by piece. first, there was the bit on the gelato spoons, and then the antique slicer and amazing walnut table (follow the link to the must-haves slideshow).

then, while skimming the article on the vin de pamplemousse, i spotted jean-pierre's name and flipped to see who'd written it. it was mona, who i've worked with at various cp events. is everyone being published in the nytimes now? when's my turn?

to myself, on the eve of my twenty-fifth birthday

may this year raise the bar for you--
perhaps you'll grow to
be a little more patient,

a little more calm.

give of yourself,
even when you
think you have nothing
to give.

don't fret about not
knowing what to do,
what to be.

just be.

remember your family
and your friends.

stand up for others
who need your help, but
also stand up for yourself
when you might have given
in before.

stop being so
petty and jealous.
just share.

read more poetry,
listen to more diverse music.
read more books.

stop trying to impress
other people all of the time.

just be the best you can be.
for yourself.

maybe go to the gym more.
maybe not.

i bet you could get
into yale, or columbia,
or wherever you like,
as long as you really,
really want it.

stop comparing yourself
to everyone
around you.

you've done a pretty
good job so far,
and i think you'll only
get better.

happy birthday.
tavolodet mobarak.
auguri.

love,
saminjoonet
there is so much i just don't understand.

america, you make me ill.

i feel defeated, i feel like the world has been defeated. i feel like so much is going to be a waste, to go backwards from here. my dad says that bush can't afford to run the country for the next four years like he has for the past four, but i say it's just the opposite, that now he has nothing left to lose. four years is a looooong time. too long. too damned long.

thanks to helenjane for leading me to american coastopia. i'll be moving there shortly.

not long ago, my roommate got frustrated with me because i told her that americans just take everything, every single moment of their days, for granted. she said i was being hyperbolic, making ridiculous generalizations that had no serious reasoning behind them. but that's not true--she discounted me. i may be young, and i may not be the most intelligent person out there, but i'd like to think that i am relatively observant, and i've been lucky to have quite a range of experiences up until now.

we had this argument one morning when, for some reason, i was telling her about how awful it was to ride the crowded buses in florence. first, i'd end up waiting forty or fifty minutes for a bus that was supposed to come every fifteen minutes. then, i'd get onto the most crowded bus i'd ever seen, because, as it turned out, i wasn't the only one waiting all of that time for the bus. so, in an effort to protect myself from pickpocketers, i'd hold my bag in front of me, clutching it to my body. that only cleared the way for some disgusting old man to come stand AS CLOSE AS POSSIBLE to my behind. add some grumbing old ladies and permanently shut windows to the equation, and you've pretty much summed up italian buses. so, the choice becomes: do i want to continue being molested (and i really mean molested, even though i am not spelling it out here) by this gross dude, or do i want to put my purse between us and risk getting robbed? i can't scream out, because who would do anything about it? certainly not the completely apathetic driver or the senile ladies standing next to me. i can't tell him to stop, because he will deny it. plus, i am afraid that my accent will give me away. i can only sigh loudly, and glare glare glare. but i'll be damned if that has a chance of doing anything.

my roommate was confused. i'm not exactly un-assertive. she wondered why i didn't DO anything. but really, there was nothing to do.

here, it's another story. it's normal to yell at people who are in your personal space. there is no concept of personal space there. there's not much of a concept of personal rights, either. americans have this incredible sense of entitlement that people everywhere else in the world--where the majority of people seem to simply feel the extraordinary weight of futility--find incredibly arrogant and even confusing.

the awful thing is that i'm talking about italy. not iran, where things can be just as bad and even a hundred times worse. not pakistan. not mexico. not a third world country. i'm talking about western europe here.

now, i've just veered off in a direction i am unsure of. but i am sick of being surrounded people who just expect everything from the world. when are people going to learn that it's hard? that you have to earn what you want, what you need, even? when are people going to stop voting to hoard their own money? when are people going to realize that we have to work together to make things work? that sometimes you have to sacrifice a little of your own comfort to make a lot of other people a lot more comfortable?

apparently, not now. probably, not ever. when all of these people have clearly decided, saying "i am more important than anyone else, and who cares if what i want is going to turn this world to shit as long as it helps me and my bank account? and hey, i can relate to that guy, the one who speaks like a dumbass, like me, who wears cowboy boots, like me, who is poor-mannered and selfish, like me, so i'm going to go with him," well, then, there's not much left for me to say in the way of hope, is there?

ai ai ai!

oh, i am so nervous. i don't think this will be over for a while, but NAL swears that it will all be decided by the time she goes under for surgery tomorrow. oh, oh, oh, what am i to do?

our radio tuner is out at work, so we can't listen to npr in the morning! i am so nervous about all of this.

at my precinct, we had nifty touchscreen voting machines. but the weird thing was that only 74 people had voted all day before me (on my machine. there were 6 or so.). scary.

my brother called me and said that i was registered back in san diego on the list when he went to vote today. what is up with that kind of crap?

hint, hint

i'm working on getting a certain digicam (maybe as a birthday gift? dad?), so hopefully things will be a lot more colorful and interesting around here soon.

in the meantime, vote!

and fall has definitely descended upon us at the restaurant: porcini (little pigs!), squash (i made yummy butternut squash, sage, and fontina lasagne last week) and turnips are here in full force.

Recipe: Moira's Caramel Brownies

4 ounces unsweetened chocolate
3/4 cup butter
2 cups sugar
4 eggs, lightly whisked
1 cup flour
14 ounces caramels (I love the Milk-Maids myself)
1/3 cup heavy cream
2 cups chopped pecans or walnuts
2 cups chocolate chips

Preheat the oven to 350 degrees.

Butter and flour a 13x9 inch pan.

Melt the chocolate and butter together over a double boiler. In a separate bowl, whisk together the eggs and sugar. Add the melted chocolate and butter, and then the flour.

Pour half of the batter into the pan and bake for about 20 minutes, or until just set. In the meantime, melt the caramels and the cream together over high heat.

Spread the caramel mixture over the brownie layer, then sprinkle with nuts and chocolate chips. Cover with the rest of the batter and bake for another 20-25 minutes until just set.

Let the brownies cool for a few minutes after you pull them out of the oven, but cut them before they reach room temperature.

Oh, they are so good.

Recipe: Caramel Corn

1 pound butter, melted
4 cups brown sugar
1 cup corn syrup
2 tablespoons salt
1 tablespoon baking soda
1 tablespoon vanilla
12 quarts popped corn

Stir butter, brown sugar, corn syrup and salt constantly over high heat.

Bring to a boil, then refrain from stirring. Let the mixture boil for 5 minutes.

Add the baking soda and vanilla.

Pour over the corn and bake at 250 degrees for one hour, stirring every 15 minutes.

YUM!!!!