Seeing Snow in Manila

An old friend calls them "white-outs".
Like when its snowing so hard you can't see anything but pure perfection in white, and can not make out the lines or shadows of anything because there is nothing to see.

I had a "white out" today, but sadly not from snow-  but from anger.

I've had a few in my lifetime. Today was the first in a while.

Despite blogging that I had one, Im not proud that I did.
In a deeply religious country I have tamed the beast within and try to stay calm for the most part or walk away from conflict. Not easy when you are a chef. But I've mellowed over time.

But today a few people of this deeply religious country had me furious.
What gets me so angry as to have a "white out"- lies and being lied too directly.

My mother always said since we were children " tell the truth and shame the devil", "Liars go to hell" and many other anecdotes about those who can't find the truth as important as most.

Today I took on the role of investor. Seeking a new house to buy.
A luxury our generation has.
My parents bought 2 homes in all my years. The first home we grew up in and the second home which carried my mother to her end. Two homes in around 50 years.

Im on my tenth home buy now in 20 years....some have been quick flips for profit, others investments, the one today is for a writers retreat for the future, a place I will call, ONCE UPONA TIME and close the doors to the real world on the outside and write like the wind, within.

So as an investor I ventured forth to several properties and corporate developments.
The first was the worst.

Having seen the properties and display homes on-line I visited to see the same. Truth of the first was that the development itself was miles from the display homes. Display homes of each variety and size where neatly lined up in pairs. One was the cheap bare turnover option and the second of the same variety was the fully loaded completed finished and furnished expensive option. The display homes, despite having sat since 2007 where in pristine condition, freshly painted, cleaned and perfect.
I chose a small three bedroom with landscaping.

Simple. Priced right. Looked amazing. options affordable.
Broker pushed for signing of papers and payment of deposit on the spot and kept asking.

What's the rush I thought, the development has been around since 2007, if there where leftovers, then they were not going anywhere soon.
I asked to see the real house.
This was obvious as I had all along told everyone this was a purchase for IMMEDIATE RFO (Ready for Occupancy).
Some times what I want, I want it now.
So be it.
So I requested to see the house, I was about to buy and pay for in full.
The broker discussed with his boss, the boss spoke to his boss and a supervisor came to speak with me.

She was nice. Friendly and affable.
I explained , I want to see the house because I want it ready for occupancy and want to see if its ready.

A car was arranged and away we went.
Quite the drive from the picture perfect Wysteria Lane version of the Display him area, across bridges covered with display boards hiding reality behind them, through some unsightly construction and past underdeveloped areas we really should never have been shown.
Finally entering the -Ready For Occupancy - area, we passed the guards hut which was unfinished and un-roofed and more importantly unmanned.
Driving down the street I noted that every house was identical. This was an entire subdivision of the same 3 bedroom house, all the same color. Why would any one do this?
Why rob the subdivision filled with one bedroom homes priced at below one million when you could walk two blocks and rob every single house priced in the multiples, each with three bedrooms.
Make it easy for the thief's by putting the rich all together. Why make them work for the task?
This entire line of thought and questioning completely flew over the Broker and supervisors heads!!

Pulling up in front of the Home I had requested to purchase, the car doors clipped shut.
Without even lowering the tinted windows, the Supervisor said, "Please note you do not have permission to leave the vehicle."
I was stunned and annoyed.
I unclipped the car door, and exited.
Supervisor followed me yelling that I was not allowed onto the property.

I answered that if , "Im spending my money and being pushed for a signature and deposit , Im going to look at what I'm buying."

I requested a look inside?
It was denied with a lie."I forgot to bring the keys", she replied

No problem I replied, "the side door is wide open anyway.?"

As I rounded the car port, I kicked the bricks from the wall, the concrete grouting holding them , long deteriorated from flood waters I believe, or simply poor workmanship.
I continued and entered the open doorway.
Filth, garbage and animal droppings filled the tiled floors.
Broken pipes and cracked tiles completed the picture.

Being followed by a shouting agent and supervisor I ran for the stairs and upward to the bedrooms. Cracked walls, door frames hanging off the wall and a balcony so cracked its pieces where easy to kick free from their foundations.

The supervisor caught up with me, and stated, "Sir you have no permission to enter the property, "I can be fired for you being here."

And thats when the snow fell!!.
Total "white-out" ensued.

"White Hot" or  "White Out", call it what you want, but I had heard enough.

Surely an Investor has the right before purchasing a Ready for Occupancy home, to view what it is he is about to purchase?
My money, My right?
Why waste my time taking me to see the outside of a home I wished to buy, from the curb side, from the inside of a car. I may as well have just viewed corporate brochures.

My anger built because the Supervisor thought I was dumb enough not to understand that she had lied to me consistently.
The only reason they did not want me to leave the vehicle was the tragic poor low standard of their development. She did not wish me to then enter the property, for the same reasons.
Ready For Occupancy for me is the ability to move in within 48 hours of paper work and checks being passed through the bank.
Ready For Occupancy for her was 6-8 months of repairs and landscaping away.
I asked for a brand new home, not a fixer-upper.

I do not remember much of the conversation (I was the only one talking) on the way back to the display home village."White-Out's" are a little like that.
There are no shadows within the snow.
I was furious that my time had been wasted, that I had been lied to, and that they had no respect for the fact that they were asking for my money, and trying to sell me a piece of second hand poorly constructed junk, and covering every step with stupidity and lies.
If they do not wish you to enter the properties, don't suggest they forgot the keys, when the doors are left open.
Don't even take customers to the curbside of the property, if your going to refuse them to get out of the car.
Don't suggest a home is Ready For Occupancy when they clearly need months of repairs and re-building.Not the pristine home they were offering me from the display centre.

As we had left the display village the supervisor had made note of their impressive cathedral they had built for the residents of the "New Town". On the way back I had desire to remind her she would use her company's cathedral to pray for her sins as a broker and unscrupulous efforts at flogging a poorly built property to a sincere investor.

Im not proud of the lambasting I gave the real estate folks on the drive back.
Im even a little sad that others I love had to listen within the confines of the car at my anger.
But Im even more saddened that there are people out there that have zero respect for investors, zero honor in their jobs, and zero dignity in trying to flog poor investments to sincere buyers.

Not once did anyone try to apologize to me.
For that I am saddened because the real estate people feel they are the ones who where disrespected.
A sadness that means they will flog these dead horse properties to others with zero remorse.

All I can do is to blog, and to remind all investors to do your homework before buying anything in any country.
I have bought properties in several countries and have never been disrespected as badly as i was today. Always ask the tough questions and never be afraid to look foolish by asking or pushing for answers. You look more foolish if you get involved with unscrupulous sellers without having asked. It is your hard earn money, spend it where you wish, but make sure you have done your due diligence before signing the check, even if the supervisor thinks she will get fired because you did so.
It's probably just another lie.

Note; The day started badly, but ended well.
A wonderful Broker who understood my blunt line of questioning eventually found my Once Upon A Time for me.
House found, contract being worked upon.
ONCE UPON A TIME is soon to take OCCUPANCY and be the home to future writings and novels.

ONE OF THE NICER HOMES WE LOOKED AT TODAY...

KITCHENS ARE IMPORTANT TO ME....

I LOVE THE BUILT IN OPTION...SAVES SPACE...

The Agony of TEETH - (not the movie)

If your eyes are the windows to your soul, then what are your teeth;  the barricades to the fun factory.

I have been blessed with great teeth all my life, much in part due to the fluoride in the water in Never Never Land where we grew up, giving us strong healthy teeth, or so my parents said.

Braces were for those with severe dental issues only, too bulky, too sore and too expensive for our teeth back in the seventies Today I see every second person with braces, even those with nice teeth.

Teeth have never been my problem, despite three decades living in the world of sugar, I was trained like a rodent on a wheel to brush twice if not three times a day and although I perhaps have brushed in the wrong direction, my teeth have actually caused me little issue for many decades.

A slip of laziness perhaps in the thirties caused two fillings but they where righted by a dentist supposedly worthy of his credentials.
Seems he held too much trust in my inexperienced eyes and should never have been trusted with my perfect teeth.
The man gave me two fillings and until recently that was enough.
It lasted me all of 5 years.
I some how thought they lasted a life time, but a sore tooth a few weeks back had me worry. A quick trip to the dentist stated that the tooth below the filling was not in good shape due to it being a bad filling.

Part of me wanted to find the old dentist and sue his practice for malpractice.
I was given the option to consider removing said painful tooth or having a root canal.
Both scared the hell out of me.

48 hours later, the issue became more serious as I ate a salad taco.
Soft food- hard bite, took liberties with half a tooth and a lump of silver big enough to make an ingot, falling out in front of me as I tried to chew.
Dinner was done.
Nice taco it was too.

Thankfully a 9 day vacation was to ensue- supposedly taken in Vietnam but actually spent in the dentist chair.
Except not just one dentists chair, but several.
Seems not one dentist actually does the entire job these days.
One looks at your teeth, one cleans them, one repairs, one removes and one cuts and kills.
On day one I visited the "Looker".
He huffed and puffed and did little except to give me two options, remove or drill. In the end he could do neither and so gave me a welcome letter to doctor number two- "the Removalist".

Dentist number two - "Removalist", confirmed the two options.
Remove the whole tooth or root canal.
Which she proceeded to discuss with me while my face was packed full of cotton wool and anesthetic.

Removal meant a small denture - Im way too young and could never be bothered.
Thankfully the tooth in question is a molar  so it will never ruin the smile, but it is not allowed to stay an empty space because over years it can cause other issues with other teeth, both top and bottom.
I tried to reason with the "Removalist" that  if I were to be killed a day or two from now by theoretically being struck by a car , then what would it matter.
Why drill and spend days in pain and several thousand dollars on a new tooth if life was to soon end anyway. Remove it and let me go along my shortened voyage.
The "Removalist", and her two cohorts did not understand the entire conversation, nor why I was going to be hit by a car, even if only theoretical.
I guess few patients discuss such issues and just hand over cash willingly.
In the end I shut up, because I could not feel my tongue any longer.

She took out the remaining filling, removed the cause of the issue, the "junk" below and drilled only to advise me that the tooth that broke had broken far below the gum line and to do anything further I needed to visit doctor number three- "Doctor Cut and Kill".

You know its serious when you have to visit the dentist in a hospital and be all but "put out to it" as they do their business. Yes indeed this was "Doctor Cut and Kill"- cutting the gum down to the jaw line actually.
By the third syringe full of anesthesia she was describing that it took less medicine to blow dart a rhino, yet I still felt pain!
By syringe number four I was floating and talking to my mother again, who was sitting beside me by now, scowling at my ineptitude at brushing properly.

For the first time ever, I am glad my mother has passed away, for she would have given me absolute hell for having a bad tooth. She loved my teeth and was proud that I had a great smile. She would also have given me hell for having walked the best part of the way home after, floating like an angel high as hell on drugs.
Not that I remember why- I was a little drugged to the teeth literally, but at the time, walking on the expressway seemed quicker than hailing a cab, it was after all around 6pm- traffic was slow that night due to some idiot walking on the Expressway?? Go figure.!
Eventually a good samaritan stopped and bundled me off home, my ice pack strapped to my face unable to talk due to a lazy tongue and half a face that felt missing.
Dribbling and laughing like a crazed hyena its a wonder they did not take me to the asylum instead of to home.
How I remembered my address is beyond me also.
Even when sobre and undrugged it's usually a struggle.

When I woke up I found a pocket full of pills courtesy of the hospital or the good samaritan Im not sure? And a note about what to take and when.
Three pain killers every four hours.
All 24 tablets disappeared in 24 hours.
On day two I realized the note had a side two-  which stated drugs not to be taken with alcohol.
Half bottle of Hennesey had already been added to the cost of the procedure and I had little option as all the pain killers had gone on the evening of day one, second half of Hennesy used to numb the pain on day two and bottle itself used to numb the pain on day three by angry wife who found said empty bottle and realized our trip to Vietnam had set sail without us.

So now a week later stitches have ben removed from gum and jaw (not yet from wife and bottle) and a return to root canal work is scheduled for tomorrow. More drugs, hopefully another discussion with mum, and more cash emitted from bank account for sure.

So far several thousand dollars has gone in pain meds, dentist fees, taxis and Hennesy Cognac - but cheaper I guess than the vacation I had planned for us to Vietnam these past nine days.
I could never have eaten my way around the Vietnam that I adore and the crisp bread would have indelibly killed the tooth had it not already fallen out.
The saga does not end tomorrow though, so stay tuned. Even after part two of the root canal tomorrow morning, I have to visit yet another sadist for more pain in 6 weeks time - good luck with that schedule - mid Christmas rush at the hotel.

In reality my teeth have had a blessed life, and thankfully this is the first tooth I have ever had a problem with, so if you are young- always brush your teeth several times a day and never think its a wasted exercise, because decades from now you will thank me for saving you the pain and the cost - and the embarrassment of knowing that you dribbled on an expressway.

Anyway, enough- this Rhino has to get his shots in 6 hours.
Bed time it is.
But if you ever want to take the subject of teeth further, watch an incredible film called "TEETH" (2007) Stars: Jess Weixler, John Hensley, Josh Pais ...
Some great friends of mine (Sean and Paul) watched it in 2007 after glowing remarks from myself and still have not forgiven me for the loss of two hours of their lives, but its a fun flick if you have time to kill,  or a face strapped with an ice pack.
Till next time.
bye

if you don't like the movie, please do not blame me, I just watched it, I did not make it. :)

More Whims Of Fancy - PLATED DESSERTS 2015

The most popular postings I have ever uploaded are those related to plated desserts.

Outstripping every other blog by ten fold, the plated desserts series seem to capture what chefs and foodies truly are looking for.

So with the intent of assisting apprentices and young chefs and those in need of creative assistance, here are some newer plated desserts.

I hope you enjoy folks...

So happy also to see people viewing the blog from Nigeria, Russia, Croatia, Afghanistan, Ireland, Taiwan, Korea, Germany and Sweden. Its nice to see food enthusiasts from new countries enjoying the blog and so many readers always.

Three textures of mango

Passionfruit panna cotta, mango, pineapple and white chocolate

Pavlova re-visited 

VaWaCa...Vanilla creme chiboust, Walnuts , Caramel cremeaux and salad of citrus

Lychee

Passionfruit and yoghurt

Cream cheese and vanilla bean

PINKTOBER - Strawberry cheesecake, fresh cream and strawberries.

Flourless Chocolate cake

Les Fruits Rouge

24 karat TiramiSu

.....and inside the 24 karat TirmaiSu

Berries

Dulce de leche with dulcet chocolate

Sesame tuples brushed with copper dust,caramel sauce and honey mousse filling

Caramel on caramel

Trio of chocolate

Out of Left Field - Blindsided

If you are old enough to remember- anything-  then the fact is your old enough to have been blindsided.

We have all been blindsided- at least once but most likely many times throughout life, work, romance, reality.

In my apprenticeship I remember asking the breakfast chefs about the eggs they were cooking. Young and stupid I stepped into their domain and asked question while they worked. The head Breakfast chef was whizzing around the kitchen and filled the morning with information and food for me. Sunyside up , boiled, poached, over easy, over hard, blindside?
Stupidly , I asked . Whats blindside?
WHOOOMP!
That minute remains with me decades later.
The breakfast chefs were a team and they worked me well. Another of the head chefs team was used to their little act when silly little apprentices asked questions when they were busy.
Blindside - was an egg to the back of the head from further down the kitchen- hurts like a bitch and funny to all who watch, not to recipient. Lesson learnt!! Leave the main kitchen breakfast guys alone. I still do!

Anyone who has ever loved, has been blindsided at least once.
Sometimes, blindsiding comes in the form of not knowing until the final second who the romance is toward and being blindsided by love.  Other times it is that we do not see something coming until its too late and taking the shunt of reality at full impact velocity and being blind sided by the truth of infidelity.
Being blindside can be both good and bad.
As Carl Jung stated, "happiness" has little meaning if it can not be measured against "sadness".

As little humans we are often told by our parents to stop believing in make believe, to grow up.
Is that because they want us to, or because they are angry with themselves that they can't.
Reality does after all suck quite hard.

If we grow up and accept reality and stop pretending and dreaming it does not make us wiser or ready for life, because there is alway that one thing , that one person , that one event that blindsides us and turns our world 360 degrees from where it was headed.
Peter pan probably had a life planned for himself of flying between reality and never never land until his old age, but then comes growing up....and "the moment you doubt wether you can fly, you cease to be able to."
Blindsided by reality, Peter Pan must have never seen it coming.
On days I am having a bad life experience , a sad reminiscence or a sorry for myself moment, I try to imagine Peter Pan at the same age as myself and imagine the disappointment he must feel on a daily basis. That longing and tearing at his heart at missing Wendy, the pirates and all the fun in Never Never Land. "So come with me, where dreams are born, and time is never planned. Just think of happy things, and your heart will fly on wings, forever, in Never Never Land!"

Imagine being almost 50 and remembering such a place!
Imagine!
I do everyday!
It was a place called Drake Street, Devonport.
My own Never Never Land, where nothing bad happened............ until it did.
I grew up on Drake Street.
It was heaven.
Perfect houses, perfect people, great neighbors. Kids that were friends and sweethearts, first kisses and play mates. Even in single digits the double digit teens were our friends and taught us to play cricket on the roadway, football and how to ride bikes. They did so in fun and being helpful, never once where they belittling of our youth or cumbersomeness.
We had hiding places on that street, pets, horses, rabbits, dogs, trees to climb, neighbors that would never harm us.

And then my youth was blindsided.
I never knew what decapitate meant until one of our friends was in a motor bike accident- my father hearing it on a private radio monitor he could tune into on his radio.
 I asked the stupid question of what it meant- my childhood ended thereafter- and I could no longer fly. Never Never Land ended that day for me.
That was when I was in single digits.

Now Im half way to triple, and the blindsiding continues.
Thankfully its not always morbid or unhappy though.

As a chef my life is filled with stress. We do it to ourselves. Pushing boundaries and trying to stay relevant in an ever ethereal world, where you are only ever between the last compliment and the next complaint.
As a human my life has been filled with sadness and loss.

For decades I have wanted a cute puppy. I had thought for years it would be help with the stress and the tears. But my mother for years before her death had stated the truth.."who would look after the dog while I worked the 12 hour days.
The thought was there but never realized.
Then in January of this year an OJT who had worked at my current employ posted that she had 8 puppies to sell.
I foolishly thought it might be time.
I never thought for a second who would clean, wash, wipe up after her.
I actually never thought much about the idea until I was told to collect the puppy- a girl- in a park one afternoon when she was old enough to be separated from her mother.

Blindsiding is the word that expresses the art of never seeing something coming until it has hit you.
I was blindsided that day.
From the minute that puppy licked my face we both adored each other.
"Shayne"now mostly referred to as "my daughter" not "my dog", gives a love that everyone should experience once in a  life time.
She follows me around the house, shivers in my arms when getting a bath, haircut or her toe nails cut, bites me softly when she wants to play and bites me hard when she is hungry or mad.
I reprimand her for destroying shoes and tables, for destroying carpets and eating everything she should not, but despite everything she loves me and shows it without fear.
I never saw this coming.
Thoughts of travel on vacations now evolve around where "Shayne" might be able to fly, my future too will be based upon where she can go without question.
She is family after all now- you don't leave kids behind.

Perhaps Peter Pan should have had a dog.
Perhaps if Peter is still alive he could get one now.
It is said, "without love, we are nothing more than birds with broken wings."
This big bird has had his wings repaired and is beginning to find the strength to fly once more, thanks to the love of an unexpected source.
Blindsided, and happy.

Dad and daughter passed out after a hard day at work!!

Thinking about the park she can see from the bed

SHAYNE

My first sports jersey !!

GUILT !!- Im sorry you need to clean up after me.

Does this dress make me look fat ?

Tired!

STOP WRITING ...and play..Im bored

HELP...Im stuck!

Fragile things - dreams and hearts - hugs can help

Cheffing - in general - and for much of my career has been a bravado filled testosterone fueled struggle to compete with each other, the competitor culinary businesses and against yourself on a daily basis. Ungodly hours and unfathomable weeks, holidays and special occasions forgotten, friends only being those in the kitchen beside you in a love and hate setting of warfare between plate and ingredient, chef against chef, and culinary against management; all while continuously striving for profits, food costs and a gilded star, a hat or a rosette from whatever food rating system was current.

Things have changed, a little. 

Less testosterone perhaps. 

A few rules to save us all against ourselves, perhaps.

My career and the length of it, has seen many of my friends and fellow chefs quit the challenge.

Even back to my apprenticeship there were three of us who battled for the affections of our culinary master. 

To be seen as capable by him made us believe we might have what it took for this career to be ours. 30 years later I am still here, the second of our team; quit the career years ago and the third took his own life somewhere between the drugs, alcohol and stress filled long hours the career demanded. 

Back in the 80's its how we survived. 

We worked stupid hours to please our chef, we thought of nothing but food and how to make it do things no one had ever thought possible. We were learning, striving and experimenting at the same time while competing for every competition we could.

The hours numbed by toxic substances and a lifestyle which was definitely not the healthiest.

Over the years I have seen many chef struggle.

Not with the job, not with the career, but with our own minds and our own humanity, our dreams and desires and what happened to them.

We are human under the uniforms, not infallible as we thought, after all.

Famous chefs Michelin starred and famed celebrity chefs starred only on Tv have suffered the same issues we all have and have taken their own lives. 

Homaro Cantu, Bernard Loiseau just two public names of chefs who have lost the battle of depression, paranoia and stress.

Friends of mine have struggled with psychosis and mental illnesses. Some have spoken out loudly about them, others chat occasionally from their hiding places away, these days from society at large. A few lucky ones, like myself, have come through the darkened days and see a future.

I wrote the following piece about a year ago. A darker time when I truly struggled with the loss of my mother. 

Her loss, fresh, painful and the period darker.

I read it again today when cleaning the computer at work and felt I should share it, because the same friend returned to work recently after an unexpected break and when we hugged from happiness of his return I felt the same feelings as I had before. That dark cloud lingers never far away and strikes when least expected.

I share therefore the following, not out of morbidness but out of the sense that it might help even one person.

I read blogs, status updates and comments of many connections all the time and still see an underlying struggle by many of us in the industry with feelings we hold close to our souls and deep within our hearts. 

We smile on the outside and struggle harshly deep within. 

Those who refuse to admit to tears, should not remain so stoic, it hurts us more.

The job is all encompassing and takes a harsh toll. 

We ned a release of emotions, (considering throwing pans at each other is no longer allowed and berating ones underlings inside the freezer is no more accepted as proper.)

The struggle has not changed. 

Long hours, longer days and unfathomable weeks. The drugs and alcoholism has been politically corrected and we have different vices these days. 

The testosterone has subsided, the rules and goal posts changed a little,  but the job remains as harsh as ever and just as unforgiving.

If the following can make one person out of a thousand find peace, find happiness , find comfort or an answer then it was worth posting.

Being a chef is an amazing career. 

But it should not envelope our worlds and steal our lives away from us. 

We live to cook........ and to live we must. 

Handshakes for the Heart                                                  

A close friend went home for recent holidays to be with his parents.

He never for a minute considered it would be the last time he would ever talk to his father again.

Having lost my mother and still struggling with her loss, I felt his pain like only those of us who have lost a close parent can.

I sent him a quick message via social media encompassing my thoughts and wishes for peace, but truly wished to say more in person when I saw him a week later after he had taken a sabbatical.

On the day of his return, before words could flow from either of us, I gave him a mannly hug to show my respect. 

“A hug is”- after-all - ”a handshake from the heart”. 

This hug though caught me unawares and filled me with grief and sorrow for both him and the loss of his father and for myself and the loss of my own mother. 

I had not really hugged anyone so hard since my mother passed and it felt consoling,  but sad.

The gift from me of a hug turned my day into a spin and I cried regularly for the next few hours.

It is said that, ”a silent hug means a thousand words to the unhappy heart”, while I did not know it at the time, until I hugged my friend for his loss, I still suffered an unhappy heart. 

The thousand words and thoughts filled my head and heart combined.

Grief and sorrow are funny bedfellows, laying dormant beside you for long periods, they travel with you constantly. Sunsets, sunrises, a fleeting hint of music, an aroma or a simple thought can spiral happiness downward within a heart-beat.

Without realizing it, I found myself giving a hug to a friend, only to realize it was me who needed it the most.

It is also said that ,” hugs were invented to let people know you love them without having to say anything.”

Culturally and physically it is not always correct to just hug a person without permission or without truly knowing them intimately, but despite cultural differences, despite lengthy friendships and intimate relationships, there are times when hugs know no boundaries and are the right and just expression between two people.

Hugs and embraces during happy events are rarely considered. Hugs during emotional times are the ones that remain with us for life.

Each of us embraces grief differently. 

It is an emotion so strong that it affects some of us immediately, some over time, while others can dismiss it and move forward with memories and lesser stings of pain.

While I can no longer hug my mother and tell her how much she is missed, I will continue to surprise my friends with the warmth and comfort of a hug, if not for them to feel better, then simply so that I might cure the unhappiness within my own heart. 

Be safe my friends..

THE FIVE YEAR PLAN

A friend wrote to me today and ended the note with a quote that I adore and which awoke the writing slumber I have been within;

“The act of putting pen to paper encourages pause for thought, this in turn makes us think more deeply about life, which helps us regain our equilibrium”- Norbert Platt


I'm not old in the conventional terms.
I'm old in the fact that I have, with the thanks of God, great parents and a little luck, been able to travel and do a lot of things.
If I were judged based on the average, I would indeed be a centenarian, at least.
If the average Joe publishes one book in a lifetime, then 16 must put my age limit in the high nineties, and so on, countries travelled, average 20; I'm up to 86, cities worked in, death defying feats tackled , bucket lists achieved!! Yup....Im just compiling my second bucket list having with great luck and grace, completely ticked the boxes on my first.

So Im old, in metaphorical terms.
And with age comes certain perspectives.
Take for instance a recent question by a peer; "so what is your 5 year plan?"

Seriously. Do we still do those!!
I had a five year plan when I was 18, it included writing a book ! I did that, wrote 5 within 5 years and travelled the world twice, once on a book tour meeting celebrities far beyond my age group and salary level.

In my mid twenties I had a five year plan, it included emigrating to another country. I did that, spent ten years in Canada, and continued to travel the world thanks to luck, publishing, and a career that allows you to work anywhere.

In my thirties my third five year plan was to become a Corporate Pastrychef, to lead a great team and to open a business. Ticked those boxes.

Late thirties, five year plan and early forties- five year plan were equally exciting and all equally fulfilled.

I'm now mid-forties. And as I said, in metaphorical terms Im old.
Im' so old and have enjoyed so much good fortune that I'm a little sick of hearing about five year plans.
'Peer' asking the question has probably never met anyone else like me before and that's unfortunate for me.
I just could not answer truthfully. You see management just don't get it..
My answer - 'the truth' - is that within the next five years I want to slow down, I want to stay put, I want to relish the moment ...... for five years at least.
This does not in anyway mean Im' old and slowing down, or that I have lost the edge of my career. Instead it means that I found a groove and want to work magic within it for a while.
Things take time here, and the first two years have had their rewards, ups and downs but it has taken so long to achieve what we set out to do, if I spent five years here, I still won't have achieved the requirements in my mind at the usual pace I like to work at.
If I did I would upset a lot of people.

I write like the wind. a thought comes to mind while walking through the park on the way home, a leaf falls on the ground, a car screech, a word whispered, all lead to hours in front of the computer writing pages for an intended novel.
Which novel I have no idea, there are countless dozens of started concepts.  And thats another reason for the wanted slow down. Not to give up, but to move forward at a pace where I can complete what has been begun on so many levels.

Passion is still within me for food like never before. So much I want to cook, but I get less and less time due to the stupidity of necessity. Ordering, menus, costings, appraisals, hirings, interviews, meetings and work in general all sap the time away from the chef within. I'm hungrier now for good food, than anytime in the last ten years.

So the answer is, I don't have a five year plan.
I don't need one.
Im happy where I am and I just want to be left alone to do great things, preferably with the support of others to allow me to do it. I'm content, but not complacent ! There is a huge difference.
Not really an answer one can give to just anybody.
Most people asking such questions are looking for inspiring words, like "I want to be a leader", "I want to be promoted", "I want to be here or there".
Me no.
I'm happy where I am. My wife and family are happy here too.

Who needs a five year plan.
My mother used to say, she did not need a five year plan because she may not be here in five years to see it come to fruition and therefore she would be judged to have failed at it.
I miss my mothers wisdom, and like her, after a number of successful five year plans I don't want anymore either.
I've achieved more than most and am happy to continue doing so, but without time stipulations these days.
If I live another five years then so be it.
I would hope that within that or a close time frame I have achieved another published title, in fiction or non-fiction. and I would hope that I had published a book under both my most successful guises one for each genre would make me even happier.

Metaphorically I am old.
With that does not come complacency but contentment.
I don't need to to achieve at the rate of knots anymore, I'm happy to achieve at any rate.
Death also does not scare me anymore , the end is nigh, now, then or sometime and I welcome it when it comes, even if its tomorrow.
It does not mean that I'm morbid, but so be it.
It's got to come sometime and better for me it can come while I relish the idea.
Bucket list is complete and while I am working on a second at the behest of friends, it is exactly that.
A secondary bucket list.
What filled the first was the heart felt desires that would see me sent to the grave in happiness. With it completed, I am filling time with the rest, not completing dying destinycal desires.
I have lived a great life and while no where near giving up, I just don't need to plan for a future like so many others.
I'm a simple guy. Im surrounded by those who love me and bring joy into my life. I have been blessed with great memories and have also lost many people who meant so much.

I'm a strong believer in the words of Jay-Z on this subject, "Whatever deity may guide my life, dear Lord don't let me die tonight. But if I shall before I wake, I'm only happy to accept my fate."

My five year plan, truth be told, is to wake up every morning, breathe in and out and continue to do what I do, the best way I know how.
If that makes others happy, great, if not, fine.
That's life.
See you in five years time I guess, to see if I have been successful.
Plan on that.

INNER PRIDE AND GRATIFICATION

Turndown !!

No-one "WANTS" to work a 15 hour day.
It sucks.
And the day after.....it hurts when you are nearing a milestone age.
But despite the apprehension and the nausea of the thought of doing continuous long days, there is always something amazing shortly thereafter, when you realize you have served another incredible dinner and made guests happy again.
Fulfillment and pride are the just rewards for the experience of spending the day with like minds of creative genius in food and after long tiring days of prep, to serve with success food that glorifies everything that you have worked hard for.
Over my career I've done countless meals like this, and I still enjoy them.
The whining is probably loader these days about the thought of the day ahead, but the inner pride after the fact is just as gratifying as ever.
Rewards are tiny in the cooking industry. The biggest rewards come to you at unexpected times and by unexpected people.
A chef bringing you a glass of wine to sample, a meal during the course of the feast as a reward for working a long day, or simply a thank you and hand shake. For me after 30 years in the kitchen these are great fully appreciated rewards.
I can imagine for the younger chefs who flock to the industry these would be mocked and seen as no reward at all.

Cooking is a team job.
You need the team to pull together to produce all that we do.
The team needs to cook together, work together, plan together and clean together.
But in the end , as a career , cooking is a solitary game.
We are all in it for our own individual reasons and those reasons are what either makes us or breaks us and keeps us in the game or sidelines us to another career.
A team can assist you, but you have to have the inner strength to stand on your own feet for 10-12-14 hours , to go to work sick or not sick, knowing that to call in sick is "NOT" an option, to walk away from the fun of friends and family, to create your own fun on a plate or platter for others to enjoy.

Cooking and its preparation - 'Mise-en-place" leaves plenty of quiet time for you to think to yourself, sometimes for the worst, most times for the better. I've seen it break chefs far better than me and Ive seen it strengthen apprentices into greater chefs.

This past week I was contacted via the wonders of social media, by a colleague with whom I cooked beside nearly 25 years ago. We both miss the good old days, when cooking was a trade for the rebels and the hungry. We cooked to live and played hard afterward. Beach parties, drugs and alcohol.
Today that kind of free spirit is frowned upon. The words drugs and alcohol now the thing of medical tests for those in the trade, and have been replaced by other intoxicants such as coffee and cigarettes. But the rebel inside never dies.

I miss the "good-olde' days of cooking. The only "rich kids" then where the rare restaurant or hotel owners children, very few of whom where ever really allowed to cooks seriously, but a few loved to try just to upset their rich parents.
Mostly cooking then was about rebels and ragamuffins, dropouts and destitute who wanted to cook because they loved food or had little education to choose another career path.
We never thought about the future, we created dishes on the day because a certain fresh ingredient arrived with a supplier, a certain new fish was caught in the morning by thee trawler, or sauce made wrongly tasted great and so we used it. These were the days long before gellifications and anything molecular. Cooking was just touch and feel and fun.

Today a lot of fun has gone from food. We are surrounded by "rich kids" playing at food for a few weeks or months before parents fund their new "start-up".
Filling in time or "doing food" for a semester is not what this career is all about.
Rarely does the touch and feel of food correspond to those we see come through the doors, it's a money business today. Profits, balance sheets, costings and headaches. We are shouted at for not moving fast enough, demand for new menus is constant and the slightest glitch is reprimanded. Some people just can't seem to be made happy because they have lost what food is all about.

Food is fun, it needs to be fun and many people forget that. Take out the fun and you may as well work in a factory or be dead.
The best places I have ever worked, were free and fun and we all worked off each others creativity. That was the case at Oskars Garden Restaurant back in the early 1980's, The sheraton Ayers Rock was a collective hive of ragamuffins from around the world, young traveling chefs who found themselves in the centre of a massive country and created genius food because we had nothing else but food to do.
at the end of the 80's and beginning of the 90's the same fun was still to be found as we strove for Michelin glory working for Gary Rhodes in England. He was a demanding perfectionist but he allowed us the freedom too to find the tastes he desired. At Hambleton hall also under Brian Baker we forged a bond like few others, the drive and strive for food perfection saw us all live at work. We only went to our rooms to wash and change and run back to the kitchens with more ideas. We had little choose being stuck in the middle of no-where. We cooked because we desired nothing else and we wanted a name for our establishment and for ourselves. We cooked because it was fun and we looked to each other for the energy to do better. So too it was also the case in the Middle East in one of the best private kitchen brigades I ever had the opportunity in which to work. We all had fun, we had freedom and we were not controlled by dictators, but allowed to feel the food and make delicious food for those we served.
Our Executive Chef, became a student and worked with us to learn our skills and then taught us his as well. He worked with us, in the kitchen and became our friend, mentor and assistant, a like mind with whom we could confer, question and throw ideas at.

Like any artist, control blocks the mind, perhaps the reason this week I find it freeing enough to write again, because Im not being controlled so harshly for a week.

In any case, throughout it all, Id like to share the past weeks works, fun fresh and freeing.
Remember cooking is about fun, not control.
Let others control the business, if you want to be a chef, you have to have freedom to move, to think, to create and to be the artist you were born to be.
Get an accountant and a lawyer for everything else.
And if you're in the business for the money...forget it.
If you were born rich, then great...invest it in something other than food and make money while you spend long tiring and thankless hours creating food for others lucky enough to dine on your creativeness..

Id never house another career, Ive seen such amazing places and worked with some of the worlds best chefs, Ive made and spent several fortunes and the best of all, Ive eaten some of the best food the world has ever proceed at the hands of some of the most talented people ever put on earth to prepare it.
I am thankful for every day I get to cook.



The Wine Dinner we served this past week was complimented by the dessert, the bread and the mignardise...of course the best parts of the meal ha ha ha....Enjoy the pics..

Caramelised walnuts, vanilla creme chiboust, citrus and cantaloupe, mango and lime fluid gels, caramel cremeaux and yogurt.

Gorgeous home made crunchy flavorsome Baguettes and lavosh shards

Mignardise individual

And the creative streaks of the week..........for future menus..