Famished Writer

As it is commonly said, “you are what you eat”, I wonder if such adage applies to what you drink? There certainly seems to be a stereotype when it comes to this subject that is generally accepted. When I was a cocktail waitress patrons were judged in the analyzing of tips and costs of drinks. If a customer ordered the “Happy Hour Special” or a mixed drink with well liquor, they were considered “cheap” by the staff and drinking to become intoxicated, getting the most “bang for the buck”, there were of course the regulars who ordered the “usual” flavor of choice, regardless of its location on the shelf (i.e. top shelf or well liquor). When I was bartending the orders that would come in were less about the tip and more about the preparation and ingredients of the drink ordered. Blended drinks, such as Margaritas, Pina Coladas and the like (which required pulling out the temperamental blender) were for “pain in the butt” customers that enjoyed the fruit more than the punch. Even in media

There is something I have noticed about myself that seems quite primitive in nature. This has to happen to other people as well. Whenever I am low on funds, or put another way, completely broke, I get really hungry, thinking about food every minute, shopping the pantry and cupboards, and generally obsessing about food and the next meal. Logically it must have to do with a “Hunter Gatherer” mentality, looking at my cupboards and fridge become more barren, being able to see the back of the pantry and the shelves clearly in the fridge, as though I was watching my harvest become depleted with winter on its way. Some days I cannot wait to get started on a complete day of cooking, which now has become as musical and methodical as I would imagine a “smooth working restaurant” to run, save for the limit of space and a dishwasher, oh, of course and a prep cook in my tiny little home. The day begins as usual, making lunches and breakfasts before taxiing my kids to school. The first step to

We have all had those days that start with an eerie feeling from the time the sunrises, only to play itself out as a day from "Twilight Zone". The October Fall air was crisp and the sun shone brightly this morning as I began my morning ritual of making breakfasts and lunches for my children. Flipping on the news as a voice of company as usual I was informed a "Sig Alert" on the nearby freeway, which means the traffic always overflows onto our street. I had no idea what I was in for in the simple task of getting my kids to school on time, both schools being less than 2 miles away. A Tractor trailer truck had Jack knifed causing two of the four lanes on the Interstate to close for morning rush hour traffic. Hearing the constant thump of news helicopters should have been a loud enough indicator. Thankfully my son loves to be early to school and because of this he made it on time, since he would have had a conniption fit considering his obsession with time (whew!). I ha

It has been some time since my last post and I have no excuse. Let's just say I am greatful for left-overs in my fridge. People generally either rely on left overs as a quick meal or snack which can be re-heated or re-created into something else or they abhor them as though they were straight from the previous nights trash. My son is exactly the latter, but perhaps will change once he is a bachelor in college. My daughter in stark contrast lives by my leftovers, in fact sometimes I make a dish (i.e. killer steak chili, pesto pasta salad with sun dried tomatoes, etc.) just for it to hang out in the fridge for her. She will tell me quite bluntly if there are not enough plastic containers in the fridge. When she was a little girl full of innocent mis-pronunciations like "ty-wrangle" for triangle, she would say she wanted "Left Odors", which I thought was pretty funny, because sometimes that is not far from the truth. As my children age and become more independent,