Wednesday, August 23, 2006

Employees Must Wash Hands

Am I the only one neurotic enough to be turned off when I see those signs in restaurant bathrooms stating that employees must wash their hands before returning to work? The last thing I want to be reminded of as I fumble for the door knob with my hand wrapped in thick paper towels, is that the short-order cook makes his way in and out of this filthy place several times per day between shifts of handling the raw tomatoes and onions.

As a germ-phobic customer who's about to eat here, what I really want to see is:

"Employees must sanitize hands using the sterile sink that is not separated from the kitchen by several feces-laden doorknobs."

What's worse is when these signs are up, but soap and paper towels are absent. Nice move, restaurant. This means:

"Employees must take a shit, lightly rinse their hands with water, dry their hands by wiping on their washed-weekly work pants, and touch the feces-laden door knob before returning to work."

Who's hungry for take-out?

Sunday, August 13, 2006

The Spice Of life

I've always been a food spicer. Always salt (if you can call it a spice), and sometimes its counterpart black pepper, but especially any of the various red peppers, hot sauces and salsas. I'm especially inclined to cover my pizza with the flaky red pepper seeds and skins that are so common to many Italian and pizza restaurants.

But since I tried the pizza at Emma's in Cambridge's Kendall Square, I've been a little bit obsessed with black pepper. Their pizza is excellent, and among the usual condiments on every table is a shaker dispenser of black pepper. This isn't your typical diner pepper shaker: this is a large container such as you might use for sprinkling parmesan. For some reason I thought I'd branch out and sprinkle some onto a piece of the plain cheese pie.

The results were amazing. Their pepper was ground into large, extremely aromatic chunks. My eyes (nostrils really, I guess) were opened to this spice as they never had been before. Ground black pepper, and lots of it, is excellent on cheese pizza.

I tried it out myself the next time we brought home a $5 Large Cheese from Dial-A-Pizza. Their value pies actually range from quite excellent to depressingly bland, depending on the day or possibly the mood of the cooks. In any case, it made a good test bed on which to unleash my oft-neglected grinder.

I covered a piece with a much finer grain of specks than I'd have liked. But my grinder didn't seem capable of producing the kind of chunks I was hoping for. Even though it sported some kind of brute adjustment, the largest specks were still far too small. The result tasted "OK," but lacked the magic. It could be I needed to get better pepper corns, too.

At some point last week, I noticed that the pepper grains were coming out a little bigger. Also, the grinder was harder to turn. Maybe I had stumbled across a patch of more rigid corns, although I did observe the machine getting nearly empty. I labored away and noticed larger black chunks appearing on my food. I shrugged; it did seemed better than before.

This morning while eating an excellent breakfast of blueberry pancakes and scrambled eggs, I treated myself to some more of these beautiful black grindings. This time it was impossibly hard, however. I looked down at my food with a tad bit more focus and observed that the pepper chunks looked more like thin shards than the chaotic, craggy chunks you'd expect from demolishing a hard, dry berry.

I intuited something appalling, and opened my grinder to confirm the worry. A large piece of plastic, whose purpose was unclear, must have broken off inside the machine and had been resting on top of the pile of pepper corns. When the plastic reached the bottom, it succumbed to the grinder's teeth just as the berries did, mixing in the appearance of larger chunks of pepper while giving a decent elevation to my daily intake of hardened black plastic.

I have been feeling a little bit sick the past few days, and I can't help but wonder if it's related to my diet. Still, the eggs looked good under all that plastic, and I figured it wasn't anything I hadn't eaten before. But hopefully that's the last plastic pepper I have for a long time.

Thursday, May 04, 2006

Drug Party México

Mexico has apparently stolen all of the innovative liberal thought that used to reside within the boundaries of the United States. Vicente Fox, the conservative President of Mexico, is apparently planning to sign the bill that would legalize personal use of most of the evil narcotics that in this country will earn you a long-term prison sentence, and possibly seizure of your personal property.

"The list of illegal drugs approved for personal consumption by Mexico's Congress last week is enough to make one dizzy — or worse." Cocaine. Heroin. LSD. Marijuana. PCP. Opium. Synthetic opiates. Mescaline. Peyote. Psilocybin mushrooms. Amphetamines. Methamphetamines.

It's high time somebody taught the United States a lesson about "drug wars." You don't win by fighting the victims.

Update: Fox wussed out.

Saturday, April 15, 2006

Rock My Funky Tax Holiday

You know those stupid yet sometimes illuminating web memes that people contagiously follow, answering questions like "ten things you don't know about me" and putting them on their blog before tagging the next person? I've never participated in one of those but here's one thing you may not know about me:

I always file taxes on the last possible day.

I know this comes as a surprise to some of you, because you view me as this eccentric yet organized individual. Bzzt! Organization to me means putting everything made of paper into a giant pile in my office which will be periodically rummaged through when an important document is needed, but otherwise untouched until "Sorting Day," an unofficial holiday in my life which usually falls on April 14th, but sometimes gets stretched out to the 15th or even 16th.

This year, Sorting Day would fall on either today or tomorrow. The "bonus weekend days" before tax deadline. I file on the last day, but usually have enough wisdom to know that shit is going to hit the fan big time if I attempt to also do the sorting on the deadline date. So in a typical year I would be digging through that paper pile right now.

But normally I didn't live in Massachusetts! Welcome to freaky eff-the-rest-of-the-country pilgrimsville. Thanks to our state's fine Patriot's Day holiday (in honor of the Battle of Lexington and Concord), we're being given an extra day to file taxes this year. Shit like this never happened in California. It's the distinct scent of government palm greasing in the air. Massachusetts just gets its way more than California, even though we are a pinko liberal commie state just like ya'll.

To make things even sweeter, all the states around us who don't even celebrate Patriot's Day (Maine also does) get a free ride on our wacky holiday. Because Maine, Maryland, Massachusetts, New Hampshire, New York, Vermont and the District of Columbia are all send their tax returns to our Andover, MA IRS processing center, they're not obliged to file until Tuesday, either.

Thus setting a new record: Sorting Day 2006 falls on April 17th! Booyeah!

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