My brother Doug was brilliant. I discovered how intelligent he really was when a door-to-door salesman knocked. It was the late 60’s. I was 8 or 9. Doug was my next oldest sibling. Three years separated us. I answered the door. The man looked official. He could have passed for a body double on the set of the Blues Brothers. The peddler was more Elwood than Jake, tall, ungracefully thin. Towering over my boyhood frame. Boot camp shiny shoes, black suit, white shirt, scant thin charcoal tie. Crowned with an ebony fedora. His left hand clutching a large black satchel.
Chef Otto's Blog
I spotted a decal on a late model black Camaro. I like to read such things. They are usually funny, and at times make you think. Paul Harvey had a segment on his weekly newscast called bumper snickers. The listenership from all over the nation would send in the comical messages they saw while driving. While at a stop light my eyes zoomed in on the lower bottom left of the rear window. It questioned, Are you as close to Jesus as you are to me right now? I pondered, about the power of food. When we break bread, it’s a communion of souls
During my first year as a Chef Instructor at the CIA I was assigned to teach American Regional Cuisine. A fascinating class delving into the history and traditions of American cuisine. It was an hour lecture along with a hands-on 6-hour lab cooking regional specialties. A fun class and one of the students’ favorites. Before flying solo with my own class, I shadowed another Chef Instructor to learn the ropes. That was Chef Brunet, Terrell Brunet. He was from Louisiana, Mandeville to be exact. Situated on Lake Pontchartrain, due north of NOLA. Of all the chefs at the CIA, there
I will go on the record. I am not a fan of eggnog. However, my wife Doti fresh from the Philippines has never had the seasonal lactose treat. By and large dairy is not in the Asian food pyramid. Name one great Asian cheese. Name one great Asian wine. No sour grapes here, It’s just the whey of the world. Doti recently said, “Babe I wanna try eggnog.” I gave her the eye roll. “Babe why that look?” “Oh nothing, I don’t like it, but you need to try it and I will make you some.” “Why don’t you like it Babe?” “It’s
On December 1, Doti and I received our first Christmas card of the season. The endorphins were firing their joyous pistons upon closing the mailbox. It was from my cousins Cheryl and John. Their mom, Mary, and my mom were sisters. The card took me back. To snowmen, snow angels and snow days, and sledding off course. I remember those days of Christmas past in Brownhelm, OH. The house was decorated to the nines. Mom had a special touch in arranging all the cards we received. Mom was an earnest letter writer and card sender. Just her immediate siblings alone