Rats!

Figures. I take a day off and all hell breaks loose. Not really, but drama, drama, drama.

We've had problems the last month or so with one elusive rat. It's found a way up through the sewer/drainage lines and up through the service area. It's been seen twice at night and once it ran across the bar scaring the crap out of the other bartender. It's figured out how to either squeeze through the drain covers or push them out of the way. The exterminator has tried everything, but hasn't been able to catch it.

My wife keeps the kitchen spotless and this is really starting to bother her. Something about it being a reflection of her kitchen, blah blah blah. No way of arguing with a woman scorn by a rat.

Tonight it ran across the service area and realized it was a bit too early for dinner and tried to run back, but took a wrong turn and was trapped under the server reach-in. The servers started freaking out, when the dishwasher walks up to see what's going on. He starts talking in spanish to one of the cooks then reaches under the fridge, grabs the rat, pulls it out and snaps it's neck. Eyes pop out and all. He looks at the cook and says "That's the way we do it in Mexico."

That's how you earn a raise in California.

Almost the end

It's been a busy week. Hopefully, today will be slow, since I'm not going in. Our season is winding down and that's both good and bad. We made enough to get us through the summer, so that's the good. Here comes the heat, that's the bad. Oh the heat. It's not so much the heat as what it does to people. I'm not even sure I can summarize it. It boils their vodka steeped brains. Vodka and heat make people insane...turns them into angry demons. Not good when you're the one trying to turn a profit on vodka.

Enough of that.

I took the day off, so I could come up with a special menu for the weekend. I want and need to do something that will give the snowbirds and seasonals something to remember and tell their friends about. Something they will remember, so they remember us when they come back next season.

I wanted to do an all bug menu, but Sophia said no (my wife and the chef), plus I couldn't find anything. The only insects you can find online are already dried, or canned. No bueno. I want giant dung beetles. If anyone knows where I can get some, drop me a line. Something for next season, i suppose.

I decided on alligator. That should be fun. We have a couple of different options, we're starting with a jambalaya, for those that aren't quite as adventurous. We found a ton of recipes, but we (sophia) decided on pan seared tenderloins. What's the point of drowning it in sauces and creams? Part of the joy of eating something you've never had is being able to compare it to other meats. Deep-fried meat tastes like deep-fried meat. I ordered 150 lbs, so we'll either run out pretty quick or have alligator to play with for a long time.....

I've gotta work on the drink menu. I was thinking absinthe, since I love it and it's regional to the gator....ish. New Orleans and all, but I can't get it in time and I'd have to work around the laws of selling it....too much hassle. I might wait for the gator to arrive, so I can sink my teeth in it. Pun intended.

the power

That showing of brut power changed me. I moved to the kitchen almost immediately and started learning from the cooks. I learned how to hotwire a car, distill vodka, and an array of other neccesary life lessons. I didn't stay too long, though. The kitchen was not my thing. There was power, but not enough to satiate my need. I bought a motorcycle and almost got kicked out of my parents house for it. That was my first and only rebellious act against them. Never bite the hand that feeds you.

I went to college and transferred to a mexican restaurant close to campus. I finally was old enough to serve and that was more important to me than college. College didn't offer me the immediate gradification that I needed. I was bored. I eventually dropped out one class shy of graduating. Another rebellious act, I suppose, even if subconsciously.

Skip ahead 12 years, countless restaurant jobs, and several moves that eventually landed me here - in the desert - and that's where I am now. Bartending with a mortgage and a great deal on a little restaurant about two miles from my house that I could not pass up. Now I have the best of everything. I own the place and bartend. Imagine the look on the pissed off customers when they ask to see the manager after i've been rude to them.

"Sure, I'll do you one better. I'll get the owner." Turn around a complete 360.

"Hi, I'm the owner, get the fuck out of my restaurant before I unleash the dogs in the kitchen."

This can only end poorly. I try to keep a low profile on the owner thing. It's a trap I set for unsuspecting bugs foolish enough to land inside my cilia.

We do alright. The place was once a butcher shop. The kitchen is huge and we can seat about 20 tables inside and another 8 on the patio when the weather is cooperating. We change the menu on a weekly basis to keep the regulars guessing. Since it's a butcher style kitchen, we buy full cows, pigs, buffalo, ostrich, anything that will fit on the table so my chef can hack it apart and let her mind and training run wild. We mostly survived on the happy hour crowd, though. If you've ever lived in the desert or a golf community, you know what this means. Drunks.

So much power to control. Maybe, too much. Three years of this and we've made a name for ourselves. We never have an empty seat. Not too shabby. Problem is these pigs expect more and more. Give 'em and inch, they want a foot. Give 'em a foot and they want the whole leg.

I needed a change or something that resembled happiness, so I married the chef. It worked. The stress has simmered down. Maybe dreams do come true. We're happy for now.