Fraternity Kitchen

Second Home

Friday, January 30th, 2009 | daily | No Comments

“Does my hair look okay?” Stuart asked as I snapped this picture.  “Oh, yeah, fabulous, perfect for your blog debut.”  They were waiting for buttermilk pancakes, growing restless because I insisted on doing them to order.  It’s important for them to stand there and watch the batter sizzle and puff up and brown so that they understand that the frozen discs in a box are mere starch delivery devices, not pancakes.  It would be nice if I could also offer them packets of real  maple syrup instead of liquid sugar, but when I suggest these great ideas to Kirk, I am invariably met with ”who would order that?  Other than you?”  I was feeling especially cranky today because, whereas Friday afternoons usually find me working out at the Pro Club and generally enjoying a short work day, this Friday I was working late on hors d’oeuvres for a Saturday alumni event.  And then something happened that made me realize attitude is everything.  After returning from picking up my paycheck, I noticed smoke billowing from my Jeep and found no shortage of eager young males at my workplace ready to pitch in.  It’s at times like this that it seems less a place of work than a second home.

Cult Following

Wednesday, January 28th, 2009 | daily | 2 Comments

“It’s like your own Jonestown there.  That’s exactly what it is.  If you start asking me to sell you kool-aid, I’m not doing it.”  That was Kirk’s assessment after today’s meeting.  He had arrived with a broker from Hormel and as she headed for a table in the dining hall with her wares, she passed a line of guys helping themselves to lunch.  “Who’s that, Darlene, is that a pusher?”  I know which guys read the blog because they do cute things like quoting me at the moment most likely to cause embarassment.  And it got worse.  As I sat listening to her describe her samples of pulled chicken, Jesse came over to inquire “what do we have here?”  I edit myself in polite company, but Jesse does not.  It was clear that the nice Hormel lady, whom the guys later told me was “hot,” (”too bad she wasn’t selling to a guy chef”) was realizing that this was a waste of her time.  And I was sort of wishing I knew how not to sound like the know-it-all kid in class when, as she showed me her ready-cooked, ready sliced brisket, I chimed in that I was cooking that very thing tonight.  Brisket.  But not her stuff.  Mine.  With portobello mushrooms and dried cranberries.  I understood what Kirk meant about the cult thing when I learned that, while I wasn’t around, Dan had told the broker that they would love to taste her stuff, but, “we’re not the ones you have to convince.”  Like he was crying out for help:  “Our leader makes us eat FRESH FOOD!”

Food Pushers

Tuesday, January 27th, 2009 | daily | 2 Comments

Kirk called today to ask why I hadn’t complained about anything in three days.  I was going to tell him that the economy is making me more contemplative, less trivial, but before the words were out, he told me he’s bringing a broker to the House tomorrow.  “Could you be nice,” he pleaded, “and try to sort of halfway look interested.”  Past visits from brokers have elicited comments from me like, “my guys don’t eat that” in a way that clearly translates, “my guys don’t eat that garbage.”  I don’t mind the meat reps, the produce reps…but the brokers peddling plastic chicken with high fructose corn syrup sauce…well, I just can’t help myself.  At least Charlie the broker had the good sense to push an actual food item, dried cranberries (which he insisted on calling “craisins”), during his visit several weeks ago.    “You could make chicken salad with craisins and toasted almonds.  Your guys would love that.”  I had my doubts about serving gussied up chicken salad to guys and Jeff M. did scoff at the “red things,” but it was a hit.  That was real food, though, not processed chicken salad from a tub which is even more gag-inducing than ready-boiled eggs.  I know it’s their job to sell that stuff, but they remind me of the health inspector who showed up my first week on the job and declared, “I know you frat cooks don’t actually cook anything, so I’m going to make this quick.”  They don’t understand; my guys are the type who ask me for some olive oil and balsamic vinegar for their sandwiches.  And then come back looking for oregano. 

Confessions

Friday, January 23rd, 2009 | daily | 3 Comments

It bothers me that something this disgusting gets the biggest smiles.  As a fraternity cook, you have to come to terms with it:  a surprising percentage of the guys will have sophisticated palates, but 100% will love you for killing them with crap like this.  I knew that today was going to be good material after my cell phone rang at 2 AM this morning.  Knowing it had to be one of the guys, I let it ring, but when I checked voicemail before work, there was no message, just the sound of  much merrymaking.  ”Am I going to read about myself in the blog today?” one of the guys asked me after confessing to a less than noble Thursday night.  “Probably,” I said, “but I won’t use your real name.”  The morning had started in the kitchen with me bitching at Kirk about bringing me hoagie rolls three times the size of the Philly Cheesesteaks.  “They’ll love them,” he declared.  “Well, I’m sure the first 20 will.  Too bad about the other 40 who don’t get any meat because I had to stuff it all into the Frankin-rolls.”  He was expressing some irritation at my lack of gratitude when Bacchus (not his real name) walked through the kitchen and paused to ask, “Darlene, if I told you I went to bed with one person and woke up alone, would that give you an idea of how my night went?”  It gave me no idea at all, but I asked the hopeful, “was it at least Athena (not her real name) that you started with?”  It was and I told him he should just leave her alone for a while; he’d be forgiven.  Later when I recounted this story to Thor (not his real name) he looked at me with utter non-comprehension.  “Went to bed with a woman, woke up alone?  Far as I’m concerned, that would be the bees knees.”

Grim Times

Thursday, January 22nd, 2009 | daily | 1 Comment

At one point today, I gave up and took a picture.  The ladder is from the fire safety team.  They came to turn off my gas and climb all over my stove, an act that did not seem to register as perhaps a slight inconvenience for a commercial kitchen at lunchtime.  At the same time, the hot water was turned off to take care of a broken pipe, which, quite apart from interfering with the cook’s ability to wash her hands meant that 64 guys were unable to take a shower.  64 18-21 year old unwashed men.  It was also at this precise moment that my delivery arrived, and if that were not enough chaos, I had the radio tuned into the business news of the day that my husband’s employer had just announced 5,000 layoffs.   Things have become so grim for the whole nation that one feels guilty for complaining about any little thing.  It reminds me of the weeks I spent in the oncology waiting room feeling grateful to have stage one breast cancer.  Y’know, with all those sick people in the room.  Lucky me!  So I did feel a little petty getting on the phone to tell Kirk that my hoagie rolls did not come with the delivery.  My hoagie rolls!    He must have sensed the disproportionate level of anxiety because he asked if I’d “heard anything” from Phil.  The guys had a much bigger concern;  if my husband were laid off, would I continue to cook for them?  I had to break it to Badley that my salary does not pay the bills and that a move out of state was a possibility,  to which he asked, clearly not getting it, “but don’t you like cooking for us?”

Inauguration Day

Tuesday, January 20th, 2009 | daily | 2 Comments

It’s not a great photo, but what I find interesting about this is that at least two of these people voted for the other guy.  And yet there was a remarkable lack of friction in the House today as people drifted in and out of the tv room to watch the coverage.  Coincidentally, dinner was the same one I served on election night.  Last week, Carlos had asked “when are we going to have barbecued chicken and bacon-topped baked beans again?” and so there I was filling the house with the smell of the same meal I had chosen for November 4.  The guys had been in Whistler over the holiday weekend, and it finally dawned on me to ask how it went.  “Great,” Jace responded, “no arrests!”

Right Fit

Saturday, January 17th, 2009 | daily | 2 Comments

While I was checking email early yesterday morning, a sorority sister appeared at the kitchen door and began to spin around slowly.  At first I thought she was just trying to get her balance, but she did it again and I thought maybe she was practicing a dance move while she waited for her date to get out of the shower.  I tried not to stare, but she caught my eye and stopped spinning.  “Where’s the front door?” she asked.  Trying to be helpful, I told her she was standing at the back door,  and she asked me if she could get outside by going through it.  I decided not to provide further assistance.  I should quickly add that the picture is of Dan with the lovely and intelligent Hilary.  She is a sorority girl, too, but not the spinning kind and she has her own (unprintable) name for those who act stupider than they could possibly be given their acceptance to the UW.   Before I was hired here, I interviewed at a sorority and consider it an act of mercy (to them) that I was rejected.  I’m just as mean to my guys as I would have been there, but somehow that works here.  I mention this because in the past two weeks, I’ve heard from three chefs interviewing around the country for a “Greek” job and I’m not sure if any of them were hired.  But if they weren’t, it’s likely not about their cooking skills; it’s about compatibility.  All of the fraternity cooks I’ve met, and I include myself in this, are just slightly crazy and a little hard-edged.  And all of the sorority cooks are either very motherly or male.  It’s a generalization I know and I will hear about it, but I’m guessing that this is because the motherly ones have a high tolerance for drama and the guys are completely oblivious to it.  Which is precisely why my guys put up with me.

Tell Me

Thursday, January 15th, 2009 | daily | 3 Comments

Before the blog (and hard as it is to believe, there were two years BB), guys hung out in my kitchen for one reason…to procrastinate.  They would come in and pace and sit on my stool and sometimes talk and sometimes not and it finally dawned on me.  “Do you have a paper to write?”  Newman was one of the most frequent paper writing avoiders, but today he broke the news that he doesn’t have any such assignments this quarter and so he won’t be hanging out so much.   But I still have Badley, whom I affectionately call a blog hog.  And then there’s the unnamed brother, who tells me things that I am convinced are specifically crafted to be publish-worthy.  Like tonight, as I was setting out the tilapia, southwestern pasta and salad with cilantro-cumin vinaigrette, when he was telling me about his day and he shared that it had started out “in the best possible way.”  “If you know what I mean,” he added and then, ”Oh, maybe you don’t.”  Which I am quite sure was not so much a commentary on my advanced age (44, for the curious) as my thoroughly sour mood today.

Gratitude

Tuesday, January 13th, 2009 | daily | No Comments

Jeff M. walked by the kitchen today and saw two bags of trash…and asked if they needed to be taken out.  And then he took them out.  I know this should not be news, but it’s major.  I’ve just gotten used to taking out my own trash and sundry other menial tasks specifically not in my contract.  One day I was mopping my kitchen floor and Eliab asked me why I was doing that and I looked from left to right.  “Where’’s the mop fairy?  Have you seen the mop fairy?”   But later today, one of the new lunch dish guys asked me if I’d like him to run some of my things through the dishwasher and I started to think they’ve all heard some false rumor that I have a month to live.  Take these unsolicited offers to help and add that to the fact that on Sunday someone actually, for the first time ever, cleaned out the communal fridge and the microwave.  Well, it’s all just downright suspicious.

Last night’s Morrocan Beef Stew dinner, which was spicier than the test run I did on my family at Whistler, seemed to go over well.  What really amused me was that, as they were standing in the dinner line, Mike S. (who once gasped with excitment over okra) asked of the starch, “is that cous cous?”  And when I confirmed that it was, he declared that I had totally made his day.  Totally made his day with a side dish that requires literally 10 minutes.  Which makes him akin to Sal who doesn’t just thank me for the food, but declares that “this is the most amazing fabulous thing thank you so much for all your hard work on this most wonderful thing you have done for us.”

Blog Moms

Sunday, January 11th, 2009 | daily | 6 Comments

I love this picture of Julien and Gus and I’d been wanting to post it, but neither of them hangs out in the kitchen enough for me to talk about them.   Badley went weeks wanting to be the focal point before he learned that you have to hang out with me long enough to say something unintentionally funny and now he’s a star.  I know this because my mom, who lives 2 times zones away and has never met any of the guys asks me how Badley is doing before thinking to inquire about her own daughter.  But a couple of days ago, Julien planted himself on my stool and told me that he got his mom reading the blog over winter break.  When guys tell me this, I find myself mentally reviewing the past ten posts.  I can’t help it; what if they’re autistic and don’t understand the gross exaggeration?  But then, while I’m doing this little inventory of things perhaps best not said, the guys will add “she loves it.”  And then I think maybe their moms are like I was:  the kind who wasn’t  PTA President.  The kind who told her son’s fifth grade teacher to stop trying to beat the personality out of her kid.  But lest anyone think it’s just subversive moms and Russian spammers who read this trash, I do hear from the target audience and today I was thrilled at contact from a future UW chef, the first time a local has reached out.  We could organize.  Or we could just go to happy hour and argue over who has the better deal.

Next week’s menu includes some ideas from the guys, including Jesse’s request for a dish he enjoyed at a restaurant.  Well, sort of.  “Chicken with Artichokes,” he said, and when I asked for some guidance, what I got was, “It had chicken in it.  And artichokes.”

Food Phobias

Wednesday, January 7th, 2009 | daily | 2 Comments

I haven’t posted recently because things have been decidedly unfunny here since Monday’s post holiday start.  But today was full of levity, starting with the fire protection team showing up to fix the alarm system when the house was in a state not quite fit for polite society .  They were standing at the front door when Graham (on the left) suggested we tell them to reschedule “because someone broke in and ransacked the house.”  Like that wouldn’t invite a few questions, like they’d just say, “sure, broken fire alarm at a frat house for another day, no biggie”  And so they came in and did their thing.  And said nothing.  A lot of things go on around here that are a complete mystery to me, too.  I know that some readers hope for the day that I tell all, but even if I was trying to get my ass fired, the truth is I know nothing.  I’m like an alien landing on Earth in the spring wondering why some of the natives dress up Jesus as a big rabbit.  A little knowledge and zero comprehension.  I just stay in my little sitcom set that passes for a kitchen and occasionally guys come through giving me misleading glimpses of their lives.  Graham is smiling here at the prospect of deer-antelope meatballs, while Jesse, who is perfectly happy to eat a creature raised in its own filth, blanched at the very idea.  Later he softened his stance: “I’ll try it.  But I won’t like it.”  Which reminded me of the time I got Perry to eat chicken tetrazzini, even with that “fungus” in it.