On the Floor

Part of my weekend responsibilities are to maintain and cook for the hot bar at the place. Yeah, when you get right down to it this is cafeteria style made with great ingredients by real people. The reality is that it does involve making food that will remain interesting after several hours at temps over 145*, a challenge for an a la carte person. I'll get there. Part of the curve is getting to understand what members want to be putting in their mouths when they don't want to cook. Last night it was certainly not the grilled flatbread with balsamic roasted grapes, Green Mountain Boucher blue cheese and basil oil- oh well... Currently, for me anyway, it's about figuring out why anyone wants to eat at all with the humidity.

Yesterday I had the beautiful moment of laughing so hard there are tears streaming, your stomach hurts, you can't catch your breath, you most definitely cannot look at the other person or it will begin all over again. Two simple words, pork hole, and we were off- standing right there in front of the hot bar- customers all around us- someone on break watching from above- gasping for breath- saying it again- hysterics. It really was not that funny; ok, it was. As chef would say 'good times'.