Ruminations on Food

Here I sit at the Alexandria Public Library... taking advantage of my opportunity to hop on a computer before I start looking for books on a) sight seeing in West Virginia (for driving to my friend Melissa's wedding in Ohio next month) and b) whole grain cooking.

Why the cookbook? Well, one of my friends here just found out she's preggers (and she shall remain anonymous until she wants to announce it herself to the world) so I'm planning to make her a top-notch dinner in celebration on Saturday night. She's crazy about health food so I'm going to make it as au natural (sans processed flours or additive sugar) as possible, which could potentially be very difficult for my sugar-ladened, processed food indulging self. Wish me luck. Of course, she's been puking up a storm with morning sickness anyway so my efforts might only be enjoyed for a short while.

Today I went to lunch with a little man at work who is shaped much like a potato (who I know through work friends). He offered to take me to the building's "executive dining room," and I completely enjoyed feeling as though I were in a "real" restaurant (as opposed to a massive, industrial-sized cafeteria) and almost forgot I was at work for an hour and a half. Ahhh, we gazed out over the tree tops, nibbled on salad, veggie pot pie, and fruit & cream for dessert (I personally was also imagining that I was dining with one of the hot World Cup players as opposed to the balding mini-man really facing me... who is very nice though, I might add).

For a moment, as I watched the wait staff scurry about, I was also reminded of my days as "salad bar girl" at Miami University's Student Union in 1991, where I was employed at the upscale "1809 Room" (for professors & their guests only)... I had to don the same black polyester tuxedo, stained white shirt, clip-on bow tie, and black tennis shoes as I carted grape tomatoes and sliced cucumbers out to the salad bar for the restaurant's patrons.

It should be noted that this was not my worst job ever. In fact, I rather liked it, as every time I went back to the fridge to get more veggies for re-stocking, I would also grab (OK, illegally procure) a fortune cookie out of the massive SYSCO box in the back storage area (hell, there were so many cookies in there, no one would notice a few missing). I must have read about ten fortunes each day I worked, none of which seem to have come true, I might note.

The worst food service (or any industry) job I ever had was my one-month stint as a "Bob's Big Boy" waitress in high school. For some insane reason, I believed I would actually like being a waitress there, but I soon learned that I had no ability to multi-task, customers generally freaked me out completely, and I had the memory of an Alzheimer's patient (which, ummm, I think I've mentioned before...). This tended to be rather displeasing to most people who were tortured by my poor service... leading to many repeat requests... "Ma'am, uhhh, ma'am, I asked for ketchup about 25 minutes ago..."

In addition, "Bob's Big Boy" is not exactly at the top of the restaurant feeding chain. Again, memories flow back of sad sack polyester, tan pantyhose, and Reebok "walking shoes." I do remember liking the cook, a college student named Sherman, a lot, but he sucked at cooking, and I always took the blame for his mistakes. Remind me another day to talk about the infamous "liver & onions" incident involving an older woman with a large bandage strapped across her face (nose job?), ranting and raving about her displeasure before dropping a penny for me on the crumb-coated carpet. Total humiliation. But then again, why in the hell did she order liver and onions at Bob's Big Boy, for chrissake?!?

Well, since I've ended that on such an upbeat note, I should be going now to undertake my own quest into the fora of whole foods cookbooks... I so wanted to add a picture of "Big Boy" in today's blog entry, but the damn library computer won't let me right click on anything so I can't save the picture I found. Darn it!!!

Anyway, cheerio for now... until later, yours truly... The Total Non-Foodie & Cereal Eater Extraordinaire, Madam K.