Around ten it slowed significantly. By eleven it was almost dead.
Rosie was the last to eat. Between her and Edelgarde Bill had fed the two bus boys and he he’d also fed the kitchen stewards. The stewards could have eaten in the main kitchen. Jimmy Banquet Chef would have fed them, happily too. But they wanted to hang out by The Falstaff Room because they wanted to eat steak and they knew Bill would feed them what they wanted. Steak it was.
Rosie ate a steak too. She liked hers bloody, so for her it was a quick drop it on the grill, rotate it, flip it, and do the same for the second side. She took mashed potatoes and veggies for her sides.
Just for spite, Jimmy Banquet Chef waltzed through the dining room for a second time. Bill had passed on the message of how it had piqued Caesar the first time, so it was a pleasureful and satisfying second trip. Jimmy Banquet Chef took his time, spoke with customers, joked with kids at the tables.
“Chloe is out there,” he said when he stopped back in the small kitchen. Victor was sitting where Jimmy G usually sat and Jimmy G was standing in the middle. He was working orders with Bill.
“She’s eating prime rib,” the banquet chef said. “Probably last one you cut.”
“She happy?” Bill asked.
“What do I know?” Jimmy Banquet Chef said.
“Nice piece of ass,” Victor said. “Sweet. Classy.”
“I think you got a shot with her,” Jimmy Banquet Chef said.
“Ya,” Jimmy G said.
“I’m not looking for any shots with anyone,” Bill said.
“Right, you wouldn’t throw one into her?” Victor said.
“Sure I would,” Bill said.
“Well,” Victor said, “so there it is.”
“Bet she tastes good,” the banquet chef said.
“Ya,” Jimmy G said, “bet she does.”
“Jesus Christ,” Bill said, “ain’t you got no shame?”
“We got shame,” the banquet chef said. “We’re just talking.”
“You can do more than talk,” Victor said. He smiled at Bill. “Smart money says you will too.”
“Yeah, right,” Bill said.
“Ya,” Jimmy G said.
They all stopped out by Kalista before Jimmy Banquet Chef and Victor headed off back to the main kitchen. Kalista made espresso for them all and Jimmy G and Bill hung out with them there in the pantry. They ate Greek pastry, drank the whiskey-laced espresso. They all helped Kalista load up as much as she could on their truck so she would not have much to carry back later.
While they were all laughing and working, Caesar came out to find his cooks. In all likelihood, if Jimmy Banquet Chef weren’t there his tone would been different, harsh, bossy. As it were, seeing him, Caesar simply said, and quietly too, “We have some orders.”
“See you in a few,” the banquet chef said.
Jimmy G and Bill went out to their little kitchen. They did their orders, a small stack of them, six tables in all.
Bill picked up the stack all at once, read them all, sorted them. Three of them were only specials. He hung these up on the board. The other three tables had steak and fish. These he worked by getting the needed items out and on the grills. He did the fish last, put them on flash pans, set them up, placed them in the Dutch oven.
It took a few moments to work the tables they had. Because it was slowing considerably, Rosie hung out by Bill after she’d done all she could for her customers.
“Just the lovers out there now,” she said. She smiled at Bill. “Young and stupid. But they’ll probably get laid tonight.”
“I’m young and stupid too,” Bill said.
“How you figure?”
“Should have stayed single,” said Bill. “Should have done a few things different.”
“Like what?”
“Don’t get me started,” Bill said.
By Peter Weiss
The memory chain is interesting. I’d bet for scientists and doctors who work with our brains that it is overwhelmingly interesting.
This morning I was buttering a piece of toast and instantaneously I thought of Uncle Charlie. He is long, long gone, and sometime if you want to talk about tough lives, not the tough lives of the privileged protestors today, we can talk about him.
Buttering bread and Uncle Charlie, he was known for putting the butter on extremely thick, what was known in those days (because they didn’t know anything in those days like they know today) as heart-attack thick. Best buttered bread you could get, that was Uncle Charlie.
He was married to Aunt Hannah. She is long, long gone. Aunt Hannah: housedress, white bobby sox, house slippers similar to what I’m wearing now, open-toe, flat heel, just that one strap across the bottom of the toes.
Aunt Hannah was in love with the Brooklyn Dodgers. She lived across the street from where they played, knew all the players, went to the games, all the games.
Spring started yesterday; today is the first full day of Spring. Up here in the northeast we don’t really know if we’re done with the snow or not, but looks like it – maybe. My wife and daughter are upstairs sleeping. I made breakfast for them, they ate, they went upstairs separately and when I looked in on them they were peacefully asleep.
I feel somewhat content. I don’t generally feel this way. More often I feel pressured and stressed, worried (GAD) and harried.
But not at this moment. Thank God for that. I feel very grateful these days, filled with gratitude. We’ve survived Covid and are vaccinated. My daughter is in school, has been in school since July 2020 half-time and since December 2020 full-time. In many ways her Covid journey is the paradigm for how we should have been handling it altogether. Maybe we would have been handling it better all along and would be handling it better now if the Democrats hadn’t used it as the key political weapon in their seize-power-control-America-forever arsenal.
But that is what it is and it’s for another time.
I’m posting this little piece first, before I post some new things. I work in the mental health field and while the Democrats piss away 2 trillion dollars for bull shit that’s not necessary and which has proven over the last 55 years not to in any way accomplish that which they say they want to accomplish, that very small percentage of kiddos and adults with serious mental health issues suffers inordinately more and worse than anyone else except the elderly they let die (maybe purposefully).
Yes! Those with serious mental health issues and disabilities are a small percentage of our population. As such and by the nature of their ailments, they are underfunded, mostly under-represented politically and most incapable of advocating for themselves.
Over this Covid time the mental health services system has become saturated and it is very hard to find services. My workload volume has increased 140%.
So I have no apologies for not posting for a few weeks. I have no apologies for me at all. I’ve been busy.
Regarding apologies, those who would tell us to feel bad about ourselves for who and what we are based upon our skin color and political beliefs should be apologizing to us by simply passing strict term limits for themselves. Their attempting to teach such ridiculousness to our little children in public schools is beyond despicable and disgusting. It is obscene.
What they are doing and what their lapdog press is promoting is the real insurrection in America.
And so it goes.
Memory chain: I remember my father being a POW in Nazi Germany for three and a half years. Hitler killed almost 10 million people. Moving toward that totalitarianism is the real insurrection in America.
By Peter Weiss
They worked late into the night. The dining room lighting changed as it got darker and the room turned from more family to more intimate. In this lighting a couple could come in and sit in relative dark where they could be close to one another, hold hands, touch a hand to a face intimately.
As the day wound down and the pace slowed, the girls and boys could take a break. That was a good thing. Bill watched it all. He had seen this, this scene, so many times before. He had walked through the Suburban dining rooms like Jimmy Banquet Chef did today. He had seen the scene from Suburban West’s open hearth.
Jo Ann came to him first. “What you got to eat?” she asked.
“What do you want?” Bill responded.
“Not the ham or turkey. What else you got?”
“Come back in five,” Bill said.
He immediately threw a steak on the grill for Jo Ann. He watched it slide into place, heard the sizzle then turned to work on the orders that had to be put up. There weren’t many and they were all easy, just specials. He did one table at a time since there were only a couple working and he did them at a leisurely pace since not many orders were coming in.
Jo Ann’s steak was all that was on the grill. All day he had not had a lot from the grill and he had not had anything fancy. Basic steaks seemed to be what those not eating the specials wanted, and of course many tables included fish orders, mostly broiled salmon or filet of sole. He rotated then flipped her steak very quickly since the grills were hot. One thing about being a broiler cook was that you had to understand how the grills worked, how they heated and cooled depending upon volume, how important it was to rotate things being put on and how there sometimes came a time when the grills simply had to be left to heat up again. That was one of the good things at Suburban. There they had the double charcoal grill and they also had the second broiler.
“What do you want for your sides?” Bill asked Jo Ann.
“What am I eating?”
“Steak.”
“A little mashed if they’re fresh and some veggies.”
“You got it,” Bill said.
“You know you guys did great today. I am so happy you’re working here.”
“Well thanks,” Bill said. “We did do great, but you all did too and we all pulled together.”
“No time for bullshit on a day like today,” Jo Ann said.
“None,” Bill said. He plated her food and slipped a cover on it so if Caesar were being nosy he could not readily see what she was getting to eat.
Jo Ann took up her plate. “The others will be along. We’re going one by one tonight and that includes the bus boys.”
“I’d expect nothing else,” said Bill. “Enjoy your food.”
When Jo Ann left Bill went down into his reach-in box and pulled out a beer. He used his chef’s knife to pop the top and took himself a nice long drink. “Merry Christmas,” he said to himself under his breath.
Jimmy G had gone out to his aunt. He came back with two mugs of espresso. He gave one to Bill and Bill, in turn, reached down into his reach-in and pulled out a beer for Jimmy. He popped the top on this one in the same way as he’d done for his own. They clinked beer bottles and drank.
Second up was Edelgarde. She wanted prime rib but Bill didn’t let that happen. Instead, she settled for a steak too. She had hers with a little bit of mashed and a little bit of stuffing. She told Bill to heap on the vegetables and to smother it all in au jus.
As he always did for the girls, Bill made Edel’s plate special.
“Boy, have I got something for you,” Edelgarde said.
“I bet you do,” Bill said.
By Peter Weiss
When was the last time any of our lawmakers could not fill up their tank with gas because they needed the money for food?
When was the last time any of our lawmakers had to lower the temperature in their home/apartment by five degrees (and therefore be cold) to save on energy so they could afford to buy necessities for their family?
When was the last time increased energy prices meant a lawmaker’s/Congressman’s family could not afford a much needed new washing machine?
When was the last time any of our esteemed millionaire lawmakers got fired from a lucrative job and was told to go get a job in a field in which the jobs were not there yet, weren’t going to be there, or were only there in China?
When was the last time we heard about Kerry’s wife, you know the Heinz heiress who is worth about a billion dollars?
When do you think Kerry, so quick to put people out of work, worried about money, about his financial future, about whether or not he had a job? When do you think he last thought that maybe he should cut his energy footprint instead of claiming special privilege?
When was the last time we got the truth from Pavda USA, the mainstream media Democrat lapdogs?
And when was the last time we got the truth from the American Politburo, those multi-millionaire oligarchs who claim to be everyday people like you and me? Or from their multi-billionaire oligarchs, most of them media owners, who own them, run them and run the mainstream media that licks their feet?
Monday Morning Rant: just some when questions.
By Peter Weiss
And it wasn’t. They had one more actual rush, a rush in that the tables leaving left kind of all at once and the tables seated were almost, not quite, like a fresh seating. So there was a lull and then the bang.
During the lull Edelgarde came over to Bill and asked if he had anymore espresso. Bill told her no but she could ask Kalista to make some.
“I’d give you beer,” he said, “but I’m not lifting the bottle over the counter. I’m still on probation.”
“Be right back,” Edelgarde said.
Jimmy G ran off to the bathroom and by the time he came back the espresso had been delivered. Kalista had made this one stronger, or it seemed that way to Bill as he sipped it. Edelgarde told him she’d sipped it before delivering it.
The girls ate on the run this day, or they ate on the sly. When they said they were hungry, Bill did a couple of things. He asked them what they wanted and made them plates which they picked up and took back to where Kalista worked. They left the plates on the bus station there and ate from them as they could get to them. Bill made plates for the bus boys too, only for them, he made them with more food.
For his girls Bill also cut a piece of prime rib and after trimming it he cut it into pieces and left the pieces on a plate under the warmer lights by his corner of the open hearth. Jo Ann happened by first and Bill showed her, told her it was for them. As they could then, they all ate prime rib.
Caesar would have gotten angry if he’d seen, maybe. The day was so long and so hard and so busy that maybe if he’d seen it he would have let it slide. Bill decided not for that, and in fact he would learn later that Caesar had seen and had said something to the banquet chef. Jimmy Banquet Chef let Bill know he knew. He let Bill know he had to tell the chef, which he would, but that given the day and the way things were going, the chef wouldn’t care. Even if he did care, it wasn’t anything that could in any way be job threatening.
“Kid,” the banquet chef said to Bill, “you’re a trip. “A good one all around.”
When he could, Bill made a special trip out to Kalista. He stood by her a moment and drank some beer. He surveyed all that was going on in the pantry area. He watched the comings and goings of the busboys and the pantry stewards who were delivering and hanging out to see if Kalista needed help. She needed it at times, but she was more than holding her own at the moment.
“And what do you want to eat, darling auntie,” he asked her.
“You good boy,” she said. “You very good boy. I want a nice steak with mashed and stuffing. Put some turkey gravy on it all, not much.”
“I’ll deliver it myself,” Bill said.
“I make extra espresso for you all.”
“Good.” Bill leaned in and did something wholly in the moment, completely extemporaneous. He kissed his adopted-auntie on her cheek.
“You good boy,” Kalista said.
“We’re getting slammed,” Rosie said to Bill soon as he was back in the kitchen, and they did get slammed, slammed almost like that first seating.
For this rush, which they all felt would be the last one of the day, it was all hands on deck. Jimmy Banquet Chef, only because he was younger, went alone to do the running. He was accompanied by his stewards. Victor stayed behind. He stayed as a utility man, to help Jimmy G and Bill and also to help Kalista. His staying turned out to be a smart move.
By Peter Weiss
They worked well into the night nearly nonstop. Jimmy Banquet Chef and Victor ran trip after trip of pans and pans of specials and side dishes. As soon as they got back to the main kitchen they started slicing and panning more ham and turkey while their kitchen stewards dished up vegetables, stuffing and mashed potatoes. Then, together, they all loaded the truck and headed back out to The Falstaff Room.
Kalista could have used a helping hand too. Adonia could have worked/should have worked. She could have spent the day with some of her family and made some money too.
Coulda/woulda/shoulda.
The only help she got was from the pantry in the main kitchen where a different set of stewards cut and washed lettuce and all the ingredients for the salad station. These stewards made their own trips out and replenished all Kalista’s ingredients. They also helped her set up shrimp cocktails and anything else she needed help with. Main concern for everyone everywhere was not to run out of anything. Running out of anything would mean having to slow down. Slowing down was not an option. The only way to play and win this game was to keep steady, keep up and stay the course.
Which they all did, all together. When Jimmy G or Bill had to pee, Victor or the banquet chef stepped in and stayed working until the one that was gone was back and ready to pick up where they were at. Same was true for Kalista. One of the kitchen pantry stewards would replace her while she relieved herself and they would stay until she was set to pick up without any disruption.
Several times when they were there with her, Kalista asked a steward to step in so she could make and deliver espresso for her boys. Her boys were now Jimmy G, Bill, Victor and the banquet chef. Each time she made them espresso she laced it with whiskey, and when her whiskey bottle was empty, she made sure to pass it to Victor who would refill it and return it on the next trip out.
No one got drunk. No one got high or buzzed. Everyone stayed steady and worked through.
“Man,” Rosie said to Bill when she was waiting on an order, “my panties are soaked. My ti6s are sweating and my feet are killing me.”
“I’m soaked too,” Bill said. “I’m on my third apron.”
“I thought I was gonna pee in my pants,” Rosie said. “It got so bad, I told Jo Ann I was running to the head and I didn’t care if Caesar fired me.”
“Caesar must be in his glory.”
“He didn’t like the banquet chef coming through the dining room. You should tell him to do it again.”
“I will.”
“Good. What you got to drink?” Rosie asked.
“Espresso,” said Bill. He put up his mug for her.
“No thanks,” she said.
“Drink it,” Bill said.
Even before Rosie put it to her lips she smelled the whiskey in it. Not wanting to be conspicuous, she simply smiled at Bill and put it to her lips.
“Let me know when you want more,” Bill told her.
“What about Eddie?”
“Kalista has the bottle. I just have beer.”
“I’ll tell her,” Rosie said.
Rosie picked up the order she was working on and the flow continued.
A runner would have been nice. An extra waitress would have been nice. But after the second turn, it slowed down in that people lingered and the tables that were emptying were more spaced out. This was because it was getting into the latter middle afternoon and people coming in were most likely not going anywhere. They were in no rush and had no interests in anything other than their own holiday meal.
With the seeming slowdown, with the spacing out of the orders, Jimmy G was able to go to the head and linger some. Bill watched everything, and Jimmy Banquet Chef and Victor slowed their trips.
They all knew, however, this was not the end of the day by any means.
By Peter Weiss
Why would a new and incoming administration cause people to lose jobs?
Why would it drive up the price of energy and home heating oil and support immigration/border policies that are not only inhumane but drive wages in its own country down?
Why would this administration take its country from energy surplus and independence to being once again dependent upon its enemies for needed energy?
Why would this administration support, defend and uplift its country’s enemies and belittle and diminish its allies?
Just some questions for us all who are still wondering why the media and the network news don’t report such things.
Dishonest and biased media that practice censorship and suppression are the purveyors of totalitarianism,
By Peter Weiss
They worked and they worked and they worked.
The first seating was the toughest because it happened the most quickly. Even before noon people were at the door and they were seated as quickly as Caesar could do it.
The girls were standing ready. They worked the tables, started as always with drinks and bread/rolls. Two bus boys were working, so they brought the bread and rolls.
Before the girls served the salads, they took the food order, and on their way to get the salads they dropped their orders off with Bill and Jimmy G.
When the banquet chef arrived with the food replenishments, Bill noted that he was in a starched, clean uniform with a kerchief necktie. He was wearing his high chef’s hat too.
Victor was the one who actually emptied the truck and carted out the empty pans. He had two kitchen stewards helping him, so very quickly those soiled pans went over to the dishwasher area. The stewards also surveyed the china and silverware inventory and with use of a walkie-talkie system, the spoke with the dishwashers about what needed to be delivered.
Jimmy Banquet Chef immediately went out into the dining room and took a trip around. He stopped a couple of times, as Bill could see when it was where he had a view into the dining room, to speak to the customers. He smiled a lot, Bill saw, and strutted.
Bill knew that trip. He knew the banquet chef was asking about how the food was, if there were anything the people needed, if the food was hot and if they were pleased. Usually it was Caesar who did this, and later, when they had a chance to speak, the banquet chef told Bill that Caesar was not too happy about his showing up.
“Ask me if I care if he’s happy,” Jimmy Banquet Chef told Bill.
Victor had brought cold beer and they all had a drink. Any buzz that Jimmy G and Bill had before had been worked off within that first forty-five minutes. In that time, the room had filled and most of the tables had been served. Jo Ann had already complained twice about her feet hurting and Rosie had told Bill there were some cute looking kids out there. She’d finished that part of her conversation by saying it was better other people had them than her herself. She laughed when she said this, but she wasn’t shy about it and she certainly wasn’t embarrassed by her opinion.
They didn’t have much time to drink and didn’t stand there drinking. They opened their beer bottles, took a sip. Jimmy G and Bill did this quickly and then put their open bottles into one of their reach-in coolers. Victor and Jimmy Banquet Chef drank then headed out to where Kalista was. They had a fresh beer for her too, but she was too busy to stop to drink, so her nephew opened the bottle for her. She took a quick sip and put the beer, opened, away.
Bill couldn’t see this, but Jimmy G did and relayed it to him. Victor told him in Greek that they would be right back with more supplies, and Jimmy G relayed this to Bill too even though he was pretty sure Bill understood what Victor had said.
The second seating was slower and more spotty. As one party left, the table was re-set and a new party was seated. From within the kitchen there was a lag. One order, then another order and another and another. The boys had time to finish their beers and head out by Kalista one at a time for a drink of whiskey.
“You okay?” Bill asked Kalista while he stood there drinking.
“Ya,” she said. “When I get a chance, I make you boys some espresso and I spike it good for you.”
“Love you too,” Bill said.
By Peter Weiss
Seven minutes each all last month, that’s what ABC, CBS and NBC spent on covering the story, whatever that story is, with Andrew Cuomo in New York.
Have you heard yet about Hunter Biden, the computer, the investigation, the story that The New York Post broke about a month before the election? The story which was suppressed by the mainstream media and banned from being reproduced on social media?
Do you know what’s happening at the border?
The bad news is that there is no news.
Not having news, having biased news, having news that is in the tank for the leaders: that’s the stuff of totalitarianism, the stuff where suppression and injustice flourish.
America is being run by corporate and political oligarchs and the mainstream media is their lapdog, Pravda USA.
The bad news is that there is no news.
By Peter Weiss
Caesar came by the kitchen at 11:55. He asked Bill and Jimmy G if they were set up. In fact they were and they were both chilling out, Jimmy G sitting down reading a magazine, Bill in his corner smoking a cigarette.
“I have people at the door,” Caesar said.
“No problem,” Bill said.
“Reservations go all through the day, full house.”
“We’re ready.”
Jimmy G did not say anything. Bill told Caesar he was going to run to the bathroom and be right back. But he did not go until he was sure that Caesar was away from the kitchen.
Before Bill had started there, as Bill and Caesar had first words about, Caesar would have walked into the kitchen and looked at everything, tasted what he felt he wanted to taste. Bill, as any self-respecting cook would have/should have done, stopped that practice immediately and made it so if Caesar wanted something he had to ask for it. No way Bill was having him put his hands in the pans of food.
For speed, and some for taste too, everything today was pre-sliced and ready to go. The turkey sat in pans with clear broth keeping it moist. Hams were sliced and set in glaze. Each order of turkey as it was dished up was a mix of dark meat and white unless the order specifically requested one or the other. The ham was ham, all the same. It was meant to be easy peasy.
No way Bill was having Caesar touching any of the food that would in one way or another be sent out to customers. No way Bill was having Caesar taste anything by reaching into anything.
“You want to try anything?” Bill asked.
“No,” said Caesar, “not now.”
“It’s all good,” Bill said. “Believe me.”
“I know it is,” Caesar said.
So after Caesar had walked away Bill ran to the bathroom. Almost literally. He walked double-time and did not stop for anything. He went to the nearest and quickest employee bathroom, peed, washed his hands and ran back.
Jimmy G went next. When Jimmy G came back it was 12:05 and Bill already had three orders, all of them family orders with nothing but the daily specials. He had already laid out the plates for the first table and was working on it: three ham dinners with yams and two turkey with mashed and stuffing.
The routine was simple. Bill plated the special, Jimmy G the sides and whoever had free hands finished up whatever had to be finished up. They did that table working out their pattern, coordinating how they worked together on these specials.
The second and third tables were similar, all daily specials, and by the time they had finished that third table they had four more orders, but most important they had their routine down. Jimmy G laid out the plates from Bill’s side toward his and as they were being laid out, Bill started plating what needed to be plated. He went down the line, and no matter where he was, once the plates were laid out, Jimmy G started plating the sides per what Bill called to him.
When Rosie picked up her last of that second round of orders tables, she told Bill they were getting slammed and that the room was full. This was, in the scope of things as such meals went, a very good thing because once the room was full the tables could only turn so fast. As one emptied, it was re-set and a new party was seated. With mostly pre-prepared specials going out, Jimmy G and Bill not only could keep up, but they could stay ahead. And this they did.
Bill called to the main kitchen within the first half hour and told Jimmy Banquet Chef to just start running out food, all specials and all sides. The banquet chef told Bill it was no problem, that he would be there within minutes.
And that was that.
