Aramark, Citi Field, The Mets, Danny Meyer and Kiss My Ass

Is there anything worse than "your" team (I'm talking the Mets here) losing, at home, to those powder-puff blue dandies, the L. A. Dodgers?  I mean, especially when you trudge all the way out to Shea Stadium Citi Field, on the god-forsaken 7 train, in weather more suited for football.  A game in which "our" number 2 starter was knocked out after taking a line-drive off of his lower leg.  A game in which the "paid attendance" (which is the way the home team lies as to how many people are actually at the park) was over 21,000, but if there were more than 10,000 people in the park, we'd have been surprised.

Well yes, there is - and here's why - it's how "they" treat you at the stadium. No, not how the Mets treat you (we already know how bad that's gonna be), but how the organization (Aramark) running the rip-off concessions treats you.  Early in the game, my friend (the Dodger fan) and I headed to one of the fancy-schmancy bars that people sitting in the expensive seats get to go to. I think it was the Delta Club, or some bullshit like that.  Anyway, after sitting there for 15 minutes and not even getting someone behind the bar to say hello to us, I was starting to get aggravated and do things I don't do at a bar - like hold up a $20 bill so one of the schmucks would come over.  We finally got served our $9 one ounce Jim Beam pours, and boy were they worth the wait. Oh - here's a tip - sneak in a couple of minis (you know - airplane bottle booze) and just refill your glass; they're giving you plenty of ice.

We took a nice, long walk around the stadium to digest our booze, and there are food options aplenty.  Lots of Danny Meyer: Shake Shack!  Blue Smoke!  Plenty of Pat LaFreida, too!  You can't miss it...

We ended up getting none of those, as we had a game to get back to, and I had a bag of peanuts, which are one of the fun things to eat at a ballgame; after all, you just throw the shells all over the place, so what could be bad?  By the sixth inning, we decided to head back to the Delta club; after all, we were practically regulars, right?

Here's what greeted us when we sat down...

Yes, that's a disgusting bar-top with water and left over detritus from whatever previously unlucky patrons might've been sitting there.  15 minutes passed (of course) and I once again waved a bill in the air; this time, when one of the schmucks came over, I suggested that perhaps he might use a bar rag and wipe the bar before serving us.  At that point, I received a look of disdain - how could I suggest such a thing?  Oh - I just love being called "boss," by some 2-bit bartender that wouldn't know a Manhattan from a Martini, but that's another rant.

Also, we ordered some food from someone who looked like they might be a food order taker/deliverer.  I mean, she took my order and took my credit card and had no problem with my 32% tip. Check that - small problem - never got my Danny Meyer Shake Shack food.  So I called over a manager who explained that they were very busy (HAH!), apologized profusely and said to make sure I get in touch the next time I'm at Citi so they could "take care of me."

We all know the Danny Meyer service model - I mean, the guy wrote a book called Setting the Table: The Transforming Power of Hospitality in Business.  And I know he doesn't run the show at Citi - but he does have his good name associated with some of the food being served. So Danny - get yourself out to Citi and see how they do by you.

And to Aramark. Citi Field. The Mets.  You can all kiss my ass. My next game is gonna be at a classy operation - Yankee Stadium, here I come.

All Birthdays Aren't Happy

You hear all sorts of things. They can hear you. They feel your presence. They want you there with them. They don't want you there. And on and on.  What I'm talking about is listening to the various opinions caregivers offer when one of your loved ones is in hospice care.

You see, about 10 days ago, my mom suffered a series of strokes that left her incapacitated.  I had just called her in the hospital, and heard some sort of commotion - I didn't know what it was then, but now I think it was probably Roz having the last of that series of strokes; doing what hospitals do, they placed her on a respirator, and notified my older sister, who then notified my younger sister and me.  We convened in Florida, visited her, and quickly made the decision that she had wanted - which was to remove the respirator.

And that's what the docs did that Saturday morning.  If the person survives for more than 30 minutes, they move them into hospice...my mother did, and we started what I guess could realistically be called a vigil.  For over 3 long, long days, my sisters, Significant Eater and I visited with, talked to, held hands with, played music for, moistened the lips of and yes -  cried plenty - with my mom in that hospice room.

I think sons have unique relationships with their mothers.  My mother had driven me crazy for years...but I guess that's part of the deal. I mean, she knew she drove me crazy and she also knew she couldn't guilt me out - she saved that for one or both of my sisters (who, by the way, she also drove crazy; trust me - I didn't have the exclusive on that).

I also figured that maybe some of these hospice people/books/internet stuff knew what they were talking about.  So, when I was alone in that room with mom, I talked to her and asked her to try to blink if she could hear me.  And then, at least to my eyes, she appeared to blink.  And I continued to tell her what had happened to her, how we were all there with her, how her dog (her constant companion) was missing her and was going to be taken care of, and on and on.  And I think there were more attempts at blinking. That brought me a small measure of comfort, as I was able to tell her how much I, and all of us loved her...and that it was okay for her to go.

Last Tuesday, a week ago today, we were all in her room with her - we had been there for quite a while when we all decided to go out for dinner.  Of course, we told Roz that we were leaving and we'd be back after dinner to say good night.  The four of us went out and had a nice Japanese meal in downtown Delray Beach.  And just as we finished eating, my phone rang with that call we were all waiting for - mom had waited for dinner to be over and was gone.

Today would've been my mom's 86th birthday.  Sig Eater and I and my sisters were all planning to visit her on or around her birthday as we did nearly every year.  We visited, but certainly not in the way we had hoped...and I'm sorry I didn't get to see her before the strokes hit.  The consolation is that she's at peace and hopefully partying with our dad. So Happy Birthday, mom. We all miss you greatly already, we all love you and you'll always be with us...

Annoying Food Things #2 (Week of 4/1/13)

It's just not gonna be that hard to come up with 3 every week...

1.  Waiter, waitress, busser, host, whomever coming over every 2 minutes asking us: "Are you done with that plate?"  And then taking 10 minutes to bring the check.  And 10 more to bring the credit card receipt.

2.  Oh, you know, the whole pocketbook on the bar/counter thing.  Or coats and bags all over the empty seat as it they had a heartbeat.

3.  "How is everything tasting?" Asked every 10 minutes by our waitress last Sunday night./

José's Jaleo - An Original at 20

In Washington, D.C.  20 years ago, Chef José Andrés opened what was then one of the first restaurants in the U.S. to focus on serving tapas...that restaurant was, and still is, Jaleo. It sparked a revolution in dining here, and we know where that has led us to today - restaurants where the menu categories read like weather reports: sun, soil, water, earth, moon - and on and on.  I mean, at some places it's actually difficult to cobble together what was once considered a meal: starter, main and dessert...because evidently, that's not the way we want to eat today.  I guess that's why whenever we dine out, we have to hear the obligatory "how the menu works" spiel - as if we'd never ventured out of our caves to eat.  Whatever.

Now chef owns/operates at least a dozen restaurants, not just spanning "the district" but across the U. S. as well.  Some I've loved and some I haven't, but that's neither here nor there.  This past weekend, we had the opportunity to revisit Jaleo, which is celebrating its 20th birthday, and which recently had a makeover.

The place looks good.  And whatever they've done (lots of fabric, absorbent surfaces, etc.) it sounds good, too...the four of us could actually carry on a conversation without shouting.   But what really blew us away was the food - we must've tried 15 or so items, and there wasn't a clunker in the bunch.

Take the Aceitunas, the liquid olives that are a tribute to José's mentor Ferrán Adrià...

A fun way to start the meal, to be sure.  Here's another delicious one...

A perfect combo of oranges, almonds and goat cheese happily nestled in an endive leaf, topped with some fine olive oil.  Then some more serious stuff...

A special of fried artichoke hearts atop a pool of tasty olive purée led to this...

A warm brussels sprout salad with apricot, apple and crisps of Serrano ham was really delicious, though I'd hate to be the prep cook who has to peel the leaves off of the brussels.  Next up...

A lovely crabmeat salad and of course a classic, the garlic shrimp...

I didn't get a chance to photograph, before our group started scarfing them down, some of the best tasting mussels I've had in years (and Significant Eater agreed).  These were simply steamed with olive oil and bay leaf, but man were they good.  We then moved on to what might've been my favorite bite of the night...

Warm oysters with potato, sweet pimentón and olive oil.  Sadly, I didn't get the odd one, but that's ok.  To finish our savories...

A paella of fried fideus (Catalan for noodles),  perfectly cooked shrimp and squid - this was the surprise hit of the evening.

A couple of desserts followed, including a fine gin & tonic sorbet with tonic espuma...

Oh, the drinks were good too - my delicious Picon Punch went down easily, and at $9, a bargain. Sig Eater's cocktail (a fancy gin thing) was prepared with a flourish tableside, and was tasty too.

For many restaurants, 20 years is a lifetime.  Often, they get stale and predictable.  But even though we've had some of this food before, most of it tasted as fresh and as vibrant as it did back in '93.  On that note - happy birthday, Jaleo...you're looking good.