Four Frisky Frenchies

On an otherwise slow and not-so-noteworthy Sunday, I was lucky enough to wait on four frisky Frenchies.  They were two couples, all four from Paris.  Luckily one of the women spoke enough English to make things interesting. 

As soon as the bi-lingual Madame told me they were from Paris, I immediately told them I spent my first three days of my honeymoon in Paris.  Now I don’t tell every Parisian I meet this information, but there was something special about this stylish French woman and I just couldn’t help myself (even though I know the inevitable will happen and I will at some point in the near future have to explain that I am no longer married).  I told her I had an epic first day in Paris.  I explained to all of them how I went up the Eiffel Tower, had dinner on Champs-Élysées and finished my evening at Moulin Rouge.   She asked me what I liked best about Paris and I told her the architecture, how well people dressed and of course the wine and food (which includes all kinds of unfamiliar cheeses and baguettes available on practically every street corner).   I told them all how I was enthralled by everything about their culture.  I promise I wasn’t saying that just to get a good tip out of the foreigners.  Paris is magical.

At my next visit at their table, the talkative Madame’s husband said something to her in French and they all laughed.  She smiled and asked, “What about the French men?”  Her female friend slapped her on her shoulder and reminded her, “She was on her honeymoon!”  Tu chez.  They all laughed again.  I responded honestly, “I thought they dressed very well.”   She said, “Of course they know how to dress!”  Her man agreed as he pointed out his own style, “Oui!  Oui!” 

They proceeded to order a bottle of wine (not surprisingly) then the chatty Madame continued on… 

“Explain to me this… We all went out last night and were shocked at how the women dress here.  They’re dresses were so short and their heels so high!  Why? Is it like that everywhere in California?”  I had to laugh inside.  Those young wiper-snappers do dress pretty scandalous nowadays.  I explained the majority of women who go out in this area who are dressed like that are in their early 20’s and most are going to a nightclub.   I went on to explain that women in LA dress quite revealing as well.   I continued to explain that our weather plays a huge factor in regards to our style.  We work really hard on our bodies because it’s warm all year round so we don’t need a lot of clothing and therefore, we end up showing off a lot of skin.   I mean … there’s a reason why the Beach Boys wrote a song about us California girls.  It’s obviously cold most of the year in Paris, so they need to bundle up.  All four Frenchies were shaking their heads like they understood (after of course the beautiful Madame translated everything for me).

This was a rare moment that I will forever treasure at my job.  There I was, standing in the sunshine, talking with this beautiful French woman about French architecture, French men and why Southern Californian women dress provocatively.  How many of you can say you did that at your job today?

As the conversation dwindled down, they asked for four espressos (also not surprising… I could have bet money on that order).   As they sipped their espressos, I decided to surprise them with a dessert on the house.  I know how the French love pastries.  When it came out, it was "Merci beau coups!" all over the place.  They were stunned and delighted. 

They ended up tipping me over 20% (who said Europeans don’t tip?  Oh wait… I might have said that…  a few times).  They left smiling with the sweet taste of free dessert in their mouths, enlightened by my Southern California culture teachings and hospitality. I’ll bet they never forget that lunch for years (just as I won’t forget it either).   

My faith in humanity was restored yet again.  And this time, this particular breed of humanity had just flown across an ocean, across a continent and into an unfamiliar and intriguing culture.  And yet, over a simple lunch, we learned, we bonded and we shared thoughts about each other’s cultures.  And even though the majority of it was about how California girls can dress a bit scanty, I still think it was quite remarkable.  ~ HK ~

Greed (A Follow Up): The Universe Answered

I knew it. 

Just as I predicted (as mentioned in my recent post ‘Greed’),  after financial tragedy came financial reward... and it only took a week and a half (I’m assuming the universe doesn’t work this fast all the time).  

After my unfortunate robbery at work, I was blessed with two large parties on the same day (during one of the slowest weeks of the year).  To put this in perspective, I made more money on this one shift than each of my fellow servers probably made the entire week.  Not that it’s that much, but for this time of year, it’s very unlikely; therefore, significant.

A rouge storm, bitter cold with sporadic downpours and unruly wind, blasted through San Diego on this fateful day.  Okay, from a San Diegan’s perspective, it was bitter cold.  We don’t see much of this type of weather here.  Whenever it’s wet outside, most restaurants in San Diego can almost guarantee their business will be cut in half.  San Diegans hide out in their homes (as turtles hide in their shells) afraid to venture out into the rain soaked streets.  It’s a known fact.

So when this chillingly cold and rain filled day was upon me, I felt like there wasn’t a chance in stormy hell I was getting any business, making the following story that much more remarkable.

There were three servers on the floor.  It was dead.  The San Diegans were definitely hiding in their shells.  By the second hour of lunch service, we were down to just myself.  The lone server on a lonely day.  Or so I thought.  With fifteen minutes of lunch service left, a party of seven walked in.  It was a family reunion of sorts.  Two cousins hadn’t seen each other in fifteen years.  Sounds like they’re going to be here for a while.  Of course they didn’t come in until the end of my day.  But under these financially desperate times (and especially after just being robbed at work), I honestly didn’t care.  Bring it on.  I would have stayed ‘till midnight if it meant making more money.

About half way through their meal, a new party of ten showed up.  It was a Naval officer’s retirement party.  The family and the officer had just come from a ceremony on the US Midway (which was supposed to be held on the top deck, but because of the storm was held below).  He was slightly emotional.  It was very sweet.  I knew this wasn’t going to be a quick one either. 

And I couldn’t have cared less.

Beyond thrilled to have guests, and nice ones at that, I embraced this blessing.  I smiled with content, didn’t rush them at all and treated them like royalty. 

And it paid off.  By the end of the day, I took home more than what was stolen from me a week and a half ago.  It all came back to me and then some. 

I owe a big thanks to humanity (and the universe) for playing that necessary role to help me get back what I deserved.

They say patience is a virtue and I couldn’t agree more.  ~ HK ~

A Mind Trip Back in Chile

I traveled to Santiago, Chile last month where I used to co-own and operate two American sports bar restaurants for three and a half years.  It had been, oddly enough, exactly three and a half years since I was last there.  Talk about a roller coaster of emotions.  But I won’t bore you with details about how bizarre it felt being in my old restaurant with no one having a clue of who I was or the fact that it had doubled in size (not to mention the mind trip of seeing my two ex-partners, one of whom is my ex-husband).  I think I’ll skip all of that.   

I’d rather share a mind trip of a different kind.  A journey back into my old life in one of my favorite places; one of the most established and well-known restaurants in Santiago. 

It’s a well-known fact most people who work in the food and beverage industry love to eat and drink.  We love to experience new restaurants and new ambiances; new foods, flavors, local beers, trendy cocktails and local and/or well-known wines (always my drink of choice.)  And, not surprisingly, we love to be waited on. *  But almost as enticing as experiencing the new places and flavors of a town, is a draw to that favorite spot; the place you hold close to your heart.  The place you’ve been to so many times you can’t even being to count them all.  The place you’ve shared laughs with so many friends (and strangers) you can’t even begin to remember them all. 

The first place I wanted to go to upon arrival into Santiago was that restaurant.  It was the first restaurant I ever went to when I moved to Santiago (and it became the restaurant of choice multiple times a month the entire time I lived there); a place called Liguria. 

Liguria is named after a beautiful coastal region of northwestern Italy.   With that being said, it’s not a typical Italian restaurant.  They offer all types of meat dishes, tons of seafood, plenty of vegetable options as well as the expected daily pasta entrées.  Anything can be a al carte, entrée style or small plates to share.  This place in no way represents Italy to me.  It represents Santiago de Chile, cien por ciento.

Practically every single time we went to Liguria, a Chilean name Edmundo waited on us (we eventually - and politely as possible - stole Edmundo from Liguria and made him a partner of our restaurant as well as a general manager).   Edmundo represented the best of Chilean service.  Every dining experience, without fail, he was fun, friendly, accommodating, treated us like royalty and we couldn’t get enough of it (hence our multiple monthly fixes). 

Edmundo picked me up from the airport.  He asked me where I wanted to go first.  I enthusiastically replied, “Liguria!  Por su puesto!”  We laughed, talked and reminisced about all of our ridiculous moments there.  It seemed like a lifetime ago…

After a much needed shower and nap (after eighteen hours of travel), I headed out the door and walked over to Liguria.  I couldn’t have felt more alive at that moment.  Because Edmundo and my Chilean friend Wally were on “South American time,” I arrived first.  I sat at the bar and ordered the famous Chilean Pisco Sour (Chile and Peru have been in a battle of sorts for years over who developed the liquor Pisco first).  At the first sip, nostalgia kicked in.  And just like that, I was back in my old life.

At Liguria. The Famous Chilean Pisco Sour. 

After chitchatting with a local, explaining to him I hadn’t had a Pisco Sour in over three years, Edmundo and Wally arrived.  We got a table and ordered a round of Pisco Sours and a bottle of wine, Chilean of course.  The entire staff knew Edmundo, so obviously we were treated like royalty.  After ordering small dishes of lamb with brown sauce, chicken with garlic sauce, sautéed vegetables and creamed spinach to share (and another bottle of wine… or two), I realized how truly special that moment was.  Not only was I dining in my favorite restaurant from my old life, but for the first time, I realized, I was actually dining with Edmundo in Liguria.    How times had changed.

At Liguria.  From left: Edmundo, Wally and Myself.

Toasting with Pisco Sours and about to open that bottle of Chilean Sauvignon Blanc. 

At Liguria.  Their famous meat and vegetable share plates.

I could probably write an entire book about all of my favorite restaurants I revisited while in Santiago, along with all of the memories that came with it.  I realized on my vacation that most of my favorite memories in Santiago were dining and drinking with friends in restaurants (my own restaurant included of course).

Which brings me to my point. 

Working in the restaurant industry, although it can include long hours, stressful moments, dealing with demanding people and unfortunately, can be looked down upon as a career choice, is something to truly be proud of.  We are a part of making other people’s memories unforgettable, hopefully in a positive way.  Because when it comes to remembering a special place, whether it’s in your hometown (or in a land far, far away), odds are, you were surrounded by delicious food, your beverage of choice and great friends.

At least that’s how I feel.  And I’m pretty sure Anthony Bourdain would agree.

And yet another reason why I love serving humanity.  ~ HK ~

* I touched on this subject (of how servers love to be waited on) in an older post titled ‘Reciprocation Vacation’ (July 28, 2012) when I ate and drank my way trough Napa and Sonoma. 

http://ontheflyplease.blogspot.com/2012/07/reciprocation-vacation.html

Greed

I am a firm believer in the Chinese philosophy of the natural occurring dualities of life - the yin and yang of our existence.  Highs and lows.  Life and death. A heaven can’t exist without hell.  You can’t have the good without the evil.  When there’s good in the universe, it never fails something bad is around the corner … and vice versa.

All right, enough of this celestial, hippie universe crap.  Let me cut to the point.

After a great day at work, I got robbed.  Yep.  Jacked.  Violated.  Straight up cheated out of a hard day’s work at a time when I truly need every dollar I earn (note in my last post 'No More Raging Alcoholics...' of how broke I am at the moment). 

My entire $110 dollars from my previous day’s shift was stolen right out of my wallet out of my purse from my locker at work (note yesterday I only made $7 dollars in tips).  So on this day, making $100 dollars is a godsend this time of year.  And to know the thief could have been a potential co-worker of mine makes me sick. 

And while I am broke all hell, salivating at every dollar I make, filling my gas tank $10 dollars at a time, some greedy thief is out there spending my hard earned money.  Perhaps my thief will spend that money on rent, food or groceries.  Or perhaps it’ll be spent on a gift for his or her lover.  Whether my thief spends that money for survival or for gifts is obviously of no relevance to me.  A thief is a thief. 

Being in the cash business can be a huge blessing.  It’s convenient and downright fantastic to have cash all the time.  It makes day-to-day life so much easier in the 21^st century that runs on debit and credit cards. 

But on the flip side – the yin to the yang – it’s also a huge curse.  I know I spend much more money on meaningless crap than, let’s say, the average eight-to-fiver who gets paid via direct deposit into their checking account.    And of course, having cash all the time invites the inevitable issue of vulnerability and theft.  Case in point. 

The yin and the yang – it’s everywhere if you’re consciously aware of it. Because as one relatively tragic event happened to me, a positive event will surely happen in my near future.  I just have to keep my eyes and ears open.

With that being said, something really bad is surely around the corner for that greedy bastard.  

(Prepare yourself for my spiritually divine ending...)

And knowing the universe has its way of balancing out not only helps me stay positive but also helps me sleep at night.  ~ HK ~