Goodbye, 2022

 Dear 2022;

Sorry that I haven't been posting to my blog like I promised.  It's been a wild ride.  As Douglas Adams wrote... "So long, and thanks for all the fish..."

When one door closes, another door opens wide, the clouds part and the angels sing.  The song would be by Elton John, "I'm Still Standing".  I went to his Farewell tour concert back in October and that song specifically resonates with me.  Life is great.  I have been with Enlivant for almost a year now as Head Chef.  I've already won Chef of the Quarter once.  I'm making positive changes to the dining services program that we have to offer at our Community in Sumner, WA.  I really need to work on taking more photos as well.  I get so busy with other things that I often forget to take photos.  So that's my New Year's resolution.  More photos, more innovation, more fun things.

I feel like I have creative freedom and really exploring cuisines across cultures, but simplified to suit the tastes of seniors.  Still struggling a little bit with trying to cut back on spicy, although I do have one resident that really enjoys spicy stuff.  So, I keep a batch of my ultra hot Scorpion's Kiss hot sauce that I had been working on for a few years now to dial in the heat and flavor profile, while also finding ways to make the heat not long-standing.  Yes, with proper layering, you can make a super hot sauce not have a lingering burn.  I've found that they enjoy my Asian and Asian-fusion dishes A LOT.  And they want to see more of that.  It really warms my heart when I go out to the dining room and I hear stories about their lives, how they used to enjoy going out for Chinese food with their families and a particular meal had reminded them of those fond memories that seemed to have dulled in their mind.  It's like an A-ha moment for them.  

Back to their stories-

This isn't a "job".  This is a calling.  It is a career that I built all these years, a talent that I can share with seniors.  Every day, it's like going to grandma's and grandpa's house.  All of them under one roof.  I've grown to know them, their preferences, bits and pieces of their stories, mannerisms, dislikes, likes.  I speak to them by way of food.  Not all of it are winners, because let's be realistic here, food is subjective.  What one person dislikes, the other 39 will think it was good.  Every day is like a snapshot back in time, when I wasn't even born yet or too young to even recall things that happened historically.  I get to hear all about a different kind of history, the type of history that is not taught in school, and not published in history books.  It's kind of beautiful.  It's kind of sad.  It's kind of all sorts of emotions.  I'll admit, even though I am a bad-ass biker chick that spent probably too much time in a professional kitchen, and had been hardened by kitchen culture, I get a little teary-eyed from time to time just from their words.  

It has made me reflect on my own youth, now that I am 53-years-old, and I am thinking to myself, will my life be this fascinating to the next generation of caregivers when I reach this age?  But then, I am reminded of something...  my own mortality.  Some people look at me a little mortified when I say that I don't ever want to grow old and I go off on a tangent about wanting to be in control of my own death, and want it to be on my own terms.  

The hardest part-

The hardest part of my job is coming to work after having my weekend off and finding out that a resident has passed.  The irony of life is that nobody gets out of it alive.  We are never guaranteed a life.  We are guaranteed a death.  We never know when that date will be.  It isn't like we can look at a calendar and say, "OH!  TODAY IS THE DAY!"  The deaths remind me of something very valuable.  That I need to live.  Really, truly live.  To eat that piece of cake that I don't want because I am afraid that I will gain weight.  

Spend more time with friends and family, which is hard because in the culinary industry for many of us, work-life balance is non-existent.  We spend more time with our coworkers than family and friends.  We miss important dates, sometimes our own - birthdays, anniversaries, celebration of life, weddings, births, deaths, holidays, and all those moments in between that keep us all connected with our loved ones.  

Covid has caused quite the stir in the culinary industry - scaled back labor due to having to cut hours of operation because the customers aren't frequenting businesses like they used to pre-2019.  Restaurants and pubs are shutting down permanently, or open shorter hours, shorter work weeks.  Food costs are rising, so prices are going up.  Gatherings were non-existent for a while and people are accustomed now to delivery services for their dining experiences.  Many service professionals have left the industry because of Covid, that forcibly transformed the way we do our jobs.  It's a vicious cycle.  

And, I'm glad-

Glad to be done with restaurants.  A few years ago when I took on the job as Executive Chef at the last place I worked at, I commented many times, "this will be my last restaurant."  I am glad I said that.  If I had to hear, "I need a side of ranch with that," one more time, I think I would have rather been burned at the stake.  It's taken months after my departure, but the phantom ticket machine no longer wakes me up in the middle of the night for no good reason.  While I had some really great regular customers over the years, I do miss seeing their faces, I really don't miss coming home at the end of the day smelling like stale french fries and server tears.  I really don't miss the rushes because someone failed to communicate that a party of 68 has come in during the height of lunch rush and they will have access to the full menu.  Yes, that really happened.  Fatt Kidd and I slayed it even though we weren't prepared for it.  I also don't miss the, "We have a banquet of 40 people for tomorrow, can you make..."  I groaned a lot and said, "yes, I can make that happen."  I made magic happen routinely.

I truly do love where I am right now.  I do feel like I am making a difference and enriching lives in their golden years.  This career for me has never been about fueling the stereotypical "Chef Ego".  It's always been about hospitality and service, doing what I do best, making people laugh and spread joy.

It's a new year, I hope that in 2023-

• we can finally kick Covid to the curb.
• egg and lettuce prices will come back down to reasonable levels.  My favorite sandwich place no longer puts lettuce on sandwiches because they would have to raise prices otherwise.  
• someone can find a cure for Avian Flu so we can get turkeys, chickens and eggs again.  I cannot express how hard it is to explain to seniors that we are experiencing a lettuce, egg and poultry shortage.  Many of them may have recollections of the Great Depression, and shortages due to Wartime.  
• we don't see as many WTF moments in the local news - murder hornets, wildfires, natural disasters, protests, violent crime running rampant.
• more hope, more joy, more happiness, better health, strength, and prosperity for everyone.

Last but not least-

I have my kitchen wing-man back.  Fatt Kidd joined the team recently.  We have worked together for years at various places.  It's nice to have him back.  Having him on my team really reduces my stress and I can actually enjoy my days off.  I remember our first kitchen together.  We started at the same place within days of each other.  I immediately felt at ease with him, and we created a really good partnership.  We often knew each other's movements on a busy line and could predict what was next.  He's also a great and trusted friend.