The powers that be on the internet don’t like personal stories on blog posts. They don’t find them helpful so I’ve created this page to put a few of my stories on it. You may have to scroll down a little to see the story, but I only have a few on here.
I want to talk about my recent thrift store find. It’s a red cast iron enamel coated wok.
So, there I was minding my own business, when I had this idea that I would find something worth finding at the local thrift store. Do you ever follow your instincts and realize you are brilliant?
Brilliant?! You are a freaking genius!
I have that niggling thought about the local thrift store.
I have some time.
I decide I will follow the hunch. Just to see what they have.
I go to the thrift store. I look around and feel empty amid the clutter of second-hand merchandise.
I think, “Why am I here?”
My body seems to know because it makes a beeline for the kitchen stuff, where I soon see this wok lurking on the bottom shelf, at a distance from the other pans.
Almost as though it is hiding from other patrons that aren’t me.
I look and I think, “No, it cannot be.”
I lift it up. I look at the handle. Sure enough. I am holding a Le Creuset wok just like the one I have at home. Well, the color is different and this one is coverless. But otherwise? Identical.
Le Creuset! In a thrift store!
I turn the wok over to see what the price is and my eyes bug out of my head.
One of these woks new, goes for close to $300.00. I think when I bought mine, it was $240.00.
The only thing wrong with this one is that it doesn’t come with the lid.
Mind you, you can get a replacement lid for . . . drum roll please . . . around $20.
I think the thrift store staff couldn’t have known what they had. If they had known, I wouldn’t have gotten it for seven dollars and ninety nine cents.
No way, José.
I look furtively around, clutch the wok to my chest so no one can snatch it from me and scramble to the cash register.
After I run to my car, I call Christopher and have to leave a giggling, silly message about my find. He calls me back and says, “What?”
So I tell him the story. He fist pumps me through the phone. I can’t see it, but I know he does.
When Christopher gets home, I have to pose with it so he can take a photo. This is what I normally look like when I’ve just purchased a Le Creuset wok for $7.99. This was taken with my iPhone, in my kitchen.
Yes, it needed seasoning but oh my word, the thing weighs around seven pounds and it is a work horse.
Why am I telling you this?
Because, when I make something that doesn’t need a cover, I use this wok. If it needs a cover, I use my yellow one.
I think you should know that. And I think you should know I paid $7.99 for a Le Creuset wok.
Dreams do come true!
My story behind the 747 shot
An individual that we shall name Harry, who, by profession was a bartender, got on a 747, also known as a jumbo jet.
Harry was going on vacation to the Bahamas! He was excited because it was his first time visiting those tropical islands and he was looking forward to researching the different cocktails he would be imbibing!
Harry had a window seat. He was dreaming of delicious concoctions while he was looking out the window.
As he came out of his rumination, his eyes focused on the clouds.
They were beautiful, grand clouds that billowed with a mysterious darkness underneath them.
Harry’s eyes shot open wide. He sat up straight, slapping his hands against the window, startling the passenger sitting next to him.
Harry apologized to the person and said, “A 747 layered shot! Doesn’t that cloud configuration look like a beautiful layered shot?”
The person, whose name was George, nodded warily, furtively looking around for a flight attendant. He wondered, no, he hoped that perhaps there was an empty seat somewhere on the plane away from the lunatic sitting beside him.
Then George looked more closely at the cloud Harry was still pointing at.
Why yes. Yes, it did look like a delicious layered shot!
George asked shyly, “What would you put in the jumbo jet shot?
Harry gently corrected him. “It’s called a 747 layered shot!”
George sighed. “What would you put in the 747 layered shot?”
Harry tapped his chin with his abnormally long pointer finger and said, “I think Kahlùa for the bottom layer, then Frangelico will be sandwiched between the Kahlùa and Bailey’s Irish cream, which will form the top, cloudy layer.”
George smiled, “Brilliant.”
Chile con Queso
REMINISCING AND A RED FACE
I have a funny story from my waitressing days at the Mexican restaurant that relates to chile con queso. (Little did I know back then that I would one day have a food blog and get so much mileage out of my experiences there!)
I was standing across from the manager who was filling in for the fry cook. The fry cook was responsible for anything that was deep fried, as well as all the appetizers.
I had a good, easy relationship with the manager, whose name is Brad.
TEASING THAT TOOK A TURN
I was ribbing Brad about how long the nachos were taking. I had a bowl of chile con queso on my round tray and I was urging him to get me the nachos. As a joke, he flung a plate of French fries onto the warming shelf before he turned to grab the nachos.
That plate of fries didn’t stay on the shelf. No siree. It slid off and landed on my tray. The way it landed caused the tray to tip and the bowl of queso to fly up into the air … landing on my face! The bowl then fell off and landed on the floor.
When Brad saw what happened, he gasped, ran around the counter, took his hand and swiped as much of the queso off of my face as he could. Lucky for me, the queso wasn’t hot, so it didn’t really burn me. I actually thought the whole thing was quite funny.
I was drenched in that yellow creamy wonderfulness and had to change my shirt and apron. My face was a little red, but I was no worse for wear.
And as a perk, I did get in a few licks of the chile con queso in, before Brad jumped to the rescue.