Fire Alarm at Starbucks

Liam enjoys last licks of my grande non-fat latte-even trumps his Kong bone

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from Starbucks Holiday cup sleeve

 

Yes, another story from Starbucks.  

Holiday cup

Since I am a frequent guest (a Starbucks term for customer) and observer, recorder and latte drinker, the odds of chance would be in my favor for being present at a happening.  I have previously told of the hard time getting a seat, the sharing (unsolicited) of a table and unexpected joy of securing a solo table at peak times.
For this visit I had hope for a table.  From my place as third in line I judged from the rustling and slurping of drinks that some of the guests seem to be near the end of their visit.  By the time I would have my NY Times and latte, I might be looking at a few available seats.

And then it happened.  The fire alarm went off.   I knew it was the real thing as I recognized its shrill incessant unforgiving tone.  And it would  keep repeating until satisfied that someone was listening. 
I have a great deal of experience in fire drills.  In my work life at Social Security, I held almost every fire drill related position one could.   I had been a restroom searcher, a stairway monitor, a floor warden, a deputy floor warden, an elevator monitor and a disabled person elevator monitor.  One commonality was present over the years.  Not many ever really believed the fire alarm was actually signaling that smoke had been detected.  We had so many drills that all knew what to do:  listen to instructions, go to the predetermined place and wait for more instructions.  We sometimes actually evacuated the building to make sure we would all do it in a safe, orderly fashion.   We had a trained population, no prodding needed, everyone on board.

Here at Starbucks most guests had not been part of any Starbucks drills, so no trained group.  I know Starbucks must have staff drills but with the transient quality of its customer base, few of those present had probably ever been in a drill.  No one moved.  I understood.  For those in possession of a hard won seat, even fire might not be enough to propel them out of the store.  A few of my fellow guests looked up and I used the opportunity to comment, " You know we really should pay attention.  There really might be a fire in here."
To my great delight, people listened.  And one by one folks gathered their laptops and lattes and filed out.  The very responsible and proactive Starbucks manager had already done her "officer-in-charge" checks within the store and followed the group out to find the source of the alarm.  I stood by the door-sort of half in, half out-wanting to follow the evacuation rules and yet cognizant of the now empty store with no bodies in the seats. The pull to return to the store to claim a choice spot was huge, but I had sort of personally initiated the evacuation by my comments, so I felt compelled to appear to be concerned and show camaraderie with my fellow evacuees by standing.

All at once it seemed the fire trucks arrived and the ladders were mounted on top of the drugstore two doors away. The store in-between is wide and set back from Starbucks, so the distance is big. Next shot shows the drugstore with its internal  fire to far right. So no danger to Starbucks.  By now no one was inside except the staff.  Hedging no more, I doubled back. I commanded the biggest table and was rewarded with the best view of the happenings.  I made myself comfortable.  I now noticed that my Ford Focus, Sawyer, was blocked in by the firetrucks.   The Starbucks manager returned from her information gathering and said the fire was in Duane Reade, and we were fine.  I mentioned that my car was blocked and I was their guest for a while. She said  "Might as well hang out with us." My dream, being part of the Starbucks staff without any of the duties.

None of the original Starbucks group returned. I felt no guilt, Had there been a fire I would have been commended in Newsday for "lighting a fire" under them; as it was I was rewarded for my good deed with an empty store and a prime seat.
As new customers arrived I got to tell the story of why the lot was packed with fire trucks, why Starbucks was empty and why I was the only guest.

Starbucks sleeve

When told of this story Liam was relieved to have been home napping. 

Liam napping

He is anxious when hearing the pop up of the toaster, the roar of the vacuum (not by me) and the blowers and mowers of our weekly lawn service team.   A fire alarm would be in that group of unpleasant sounds.

If you have not noticed.   Good news.  The Red Holiday cups are out. In Starbucks culture this is a big event.  They made their 2010 debut on Election day.  Liam gets his licks, and no suffering through fire alarms.

WoofWoof

Chef Carol Cooks

Liam looking at dinner by Chef Carol

"The best way to execute French cooking is to get good and loaded

wine for chicken whacking

and whack the hell out of a chicken.

Whacked chicken

Bon Appétit."
(attributed to Julia Child)

We saw the Neelys at the Food Network Festival. I wrote about it a few blogs back. I was with Peridot Pal. I stated that day that I felt inspired to enter the kitchen and try to cook a meal with the verve of the Neelys.These two were having such fun. It is possible I was high from the peanut oil vapors in the arena as well as the electricity shooting from their personalities. I remember dreaming that maybe I could even have a show someday. The curse of a Leo, always looking for fame.

Then to add to my fantasy, I saw a segment on "The View" with Sherri Shepherd and Food Network "Chopped" judge, Marc Murphy. They were preparing and roasting a chicken . That was the one for me. If Sherri could chop, stuff and cook a chicken with  Chef Marc MurphyI could do it, after all I had Chef Paul.

http://theview.abc.go.com/blog/marc-murphys-roast-chicken

Paul is a cook and a chef. He cooks during the week and is a chef on Saturday. Rachael Ray has often described herself as a cook, not a chef.

from Merriam Webster Online

cook-a person who prepares food for eating

chef- a skilled cook who manages the kitchen

I had illusions/delusions of proceeding directly to the Chef position. It was Saturday night, October 30.

To prepare this roast chicken, my first job was to find and print out Marc/Sherri's recipe.
I googled it and there it was. Googling is a beautiful thing.
Since I had seen it done on "The View" I knew what I was getting into.

Then we had to make a list. Chef Paul did that. Hey, he offered. He also did the shopping.
I was watching the "House Hunters" on HGTV, and doing the laundry, so not yet ready to enter "The Next Iron Chef" mode.

Paul returned with the ingredients and I set them up, sort of.

The next step is chopping. Paul offered to chop. This fit in with my plan of sipping wine and reading the NY Times Real Estate section with a new "Property Virgins" episode.

I really think Chef Paul was hoping I would never appear in "his" kitchen. All the prep work done, I got the call to fix the bird. For the first time I would join Chef Paul, we would be the Neelys, or Marc and Sherri.

I did not want to go. I suddenly realized watching others cook, chop, baste, stuff, taste, plate -is really the way I want it. However, I am trapped. I had announced I was interested. I had printed out the recipe. I had made the commitment.

It was at this point that Liam began pacing. Moving from room to room. At one point he curled into a ball

Liam hiding

Liam behind Chef Paul

Who is that in the kitchen?

at another hid behind Daddy Paul.    He stared into the kitchen. He had never seen Mommy Carol in the kitchen in such an involved way. All of us were a little out of whack.

But there I was with this uncooked bird. I knew that the trick was first pulling out a little plastic package inside the cavity-an extra gift of chicken parts that I did not need. In its place,  I was ready to put in a lemon, garlic and an onion and under its skin, some butter. I held the bird by its legs, pushed the lemon in.  Good.  Then the onion.  The lemon popped out.   Put the garlic in. They all took turns popping out. Each was wet and slimy. They were not staying put. I remember that there was an option of trussing the chicken-that would be tying the legs together. Too gruesome. Let everything pop out if it must.

Next step was to carefully place the slippery bird on top of the cut veggies in the roasting pan; then slide it in the oven.   As bird cooked , we were to eat our salads.  Next follows a pic of the salad.

blackberry, wine, salad

I think I helped with its prep. The photo has my blackberry charging and my wine so I must have been involved. Paul remembers my only contribution to be that of sprinkling bleu cheese on the salad.

the chicken had the look of a cooked chicken.

cooked bird

It was never really done. Every time we looked there was still some redness somewhere. Back in the oven. Again and again.

bloody chicken back in the oven

Paul assured me that poultry is contrary like that. And so are ovens.
"Who wants to eat bloody chicken?"  I countered- in my best British accent

I did not wait to be "Chopped" as they do on The Food Network.
Oh no.
I declared my chef days over and ripped off the non bloody parts, stuck them in the mircowave. Microwaves are blood suckers.

I am not a cook, not a chef. Chef Carol is done with the competing with the Neelys/Sherri Shepherd .
I have my role in the household and it is not chef/cook/chopper.

This past Saturday Paul made one of Rachael's recipes.
Liam and I watched "House Hunters International"  I had my wine, NY Times, Blackberry.
We heard comforting familiar sounds of chopping, sizzling, and then some sweet aromatic savory smells. Liam's nose twitched in anticipation-the hound in him.

Paul announced "dinner is ready"

Liam enjoyed his only "people" snack, Paul Newman's natural popcorn, sprinkled on the floor.

Yummy popcorn, better than bloody chicken

Woof

Woof

Bullying seems to be in Fashion

Liam gets along with his housemates, no bullying



You're So Vain

You're so vain, you probably think this song is about you
You're so vain, I'll bet you think this song is about you
Don't you? Don't you?

Carly Simon



Project Runway, Season 8 is done.

http://www.mylifetime.com/shows/project-runway



Some seasons have personalities, others have only individuals, other seasons have small cliques and a few loners. A few seasons have memorable people like Christian Siriano, who actually was a judge on this season's Project Runway.

I guess the designers of each season would like to fashion a new trend; something that will be copied and make them remembered for going in a new bold innovative direction.

What seemed to be fashionable with season 8's Project Runway is bullying. Not the kind we have been seeing in the news with young school age kids, but bullying couched in concern for the best design with a condescending attitude towards those who would pull down the high standards of the group.

Overtly and covertly, in groups and in interviews, the comments accumulated. "He cannot sew"
"He cheated." " He took buttons from my bag." "He copied my color scheme." "He uses tape to hold his clothes together."

"Thrown under the bus" was one of the most used comments all season.

The arrogance of a few in the exalted opinions of themselves pulled in the weaker spirits and created a bullying group dynamic.
It got so bad Tim Gunn called a "bullying meeting" with one designer, Gretchen, being called out.

Definition of BULLY
from Merriam Webster online

transitive verb- to treat abusively
synonyms- ill-treat, kick around, maltreat, mess over
related words: molest, harass, harm, injure, persecute, torment, wrong, victimize, hurt, oppress, and more.

Some of the group seemed to believe that designer, Michael Costello, was unworthy of being on Project Runway and were flabbergasted when he pulled off a win. Upon returning from the judging stage he was met with a chilly silence and no congrats.
Nice.

When some booted off designers were invited back to help those remaining, an allegation of cheating was leveled at Michael.

Tim's team found no proof of this.

Only one designer stood up and that was Mondo.
Wow.
That must have been rough as he had his own isolation fears to battle.

Anyway, Michael did make it to the final 4, but not to Fashion Week. He had what I think was an implosion of spirit caused by the cumulative disrespect from the group.

He receded into the background by making a monotone color choice for his collection and was out.

As a reality show realist, I am cognizant that footage can be tailored to frame a scene, that behind the scenes exchanges can be fashioned to make someone look and sound like a villain.
Those so depicted always point this out to us.

Liam watches Project Runway with us.

He has had his run-ins in the dog world next pic-Liam wrestling at dog park
He knows he has to peacefully exist with his fellow animals at home- next pic Teddy bear, Denali and Liam in den together as well as young visitors
The weekend before the Project Runway finale we were away on a fall foliage trip.
Liam was on his fall trip at Best In Show Pet resort.
We were surprised by a call from his hotel with the message that Liam's left ear had been bitten by another dog, that he was okay and had received the appropriate shots.
( I do not think they administered shots on Project Runway for bully bites)

When we arrived to pick him up upon our return, Liam looked fine. His bite healing okay. I had a question and I was hesitant to ask it, but I did "Did Liam do anything to provoke this bite? I guess I mean, is he a bully?"

The reply was swift and strong
"No, Liam is a sweet, loving dog. The dogs were just rough playing, no worries."
I explained that I do not condone bullying and if Liam was involved I would correct it.
I guess I envisioned something like Tim's calling a meeting "Designers, gather round."

Me-"Doggies, gather round."

No, seems it was rough play.

Gretchen won Project Runway Season 8.
Her collection was voted the best by two judges. Hmmm.

Though not officially, Mondo also won. He stood up for himself and for Michael C.

Liam is going to his Pet Hotel next week. He knows not to bully- to stand up for himself, as well as others

Woof, woof

Making Strides Jones Beach 2010

Liam wearing pink for October Breast Cancer Awareness

Joy to the world
All the boys and girls now
Joy to the fishes in the deep blue sea
Joy to you and me

Three Dog Night

The event is the Making Strides Against Breast Cancer Walk.
http://www.newsday.com/news/health/55-000-at-jones-beach-breast-cancer-walk-1.2367940
The place is Jones Beach, Long Island, New York
The weather is grand for a walk-50's-60's.
You want it a bit chilly, and with some wind, otherwise it feels a bit claustrophobic with thousands moving together.
Last year we walked in a nor'easter, with threats of boardwalk flooding. I wore goggles and the only item not wet at the end was my blackberry which was safely sealed in a ziploc bag.
Not this year, it is a good walking day in NY.

We set out, six of us this time, a gain of two from last year. Immediately we are greeted by our NY Senator, Chuck Schumerhttp://schumer.senate.gov/

I like this as I am always hoping to be in Newsday or on CNN. I know Chuck wants the same fame.
The wind is pushing at us and my hair twirls around. I started with a middle part and now have three parts. Maybe it will braid itself. Hood up, hood down. Gloves on, gloves off. Sunglasses on.
A changeable weather day.

We reach the midway point which is the end of the boardwalk- a slatted, wooden fence. People use it to leave memorabilia, ACS badges, signs, photos, letters--a wall of honor and remembrance. Sort of a gathering place to catch up with faster walkers or just to pause and reflect. Today though, the huge crowds do not permit pausing too long. I have my mom's and my niece's photos and I post them
I have chosen a studio shot of a young Ruth-adventurous hopeful smiling confident Ruth.
And Liz also has a studio shot- projecting the same feelings. Gorgeous, loving life.
Their faces draw you in. Timeless. Photos decades apart, but together today.
I know they will make folks smile all morning.

We turn and start our trek to the finish. The wind is at our backs and the temperature rises about 10 degrees.
A fellow walker in our group points to a couple ahead- "There is my doctor." I follow her gaze, "that is my doctor also." "The woman?" " No, the man." We run up to them. I say "Are you my gynecologist?"
How funny to meet outside in the real world. I seldom see him in this way. He is walking, how lovely.
"Yes, I am your gynecologist," he verifies -we all smile and that's that.
The two doctors are in an intense conversation and we have interrupted it.
They turn back into it. We move on.

I have now met two famous people-Chuck Schumer and my gynecologist.
I am still holding out for Anderson Cooper No photo of my gynecologist available.

We near the finish and are cheered. Imagine that?

I am asked the question "Why are all these folks doing these walks?"

There are walks for many diseases, causes, groups.
Are we "walk" obsessed?

I know I walk to support my family and friends who are in the fight, have won the fight and in memory of those who have lost the fight.

Are walks important, necessary to raise money?
Donations can be made anytime. Thousands do not have to gather to walk to raise money.

Why walk?
I think that people walk to show solidarity, it is a visible coming together. Seeing healthy survivors is a boost and joy to all. Offers a promise and a hope for the future for those who may someday need it. Honors those gone.
These walks get attention. Make people think. Educate all.
In my mind I walk for all cancers. That is the Leo in me-grandiose ideas.

55, 000 people walked Sunday at Jones Beach and raised 2.8 million for the American Cancer Society's fight against Breast Cancer.

Liam was not allowed to walk. The sign indicates "No Pets."
A dog is used as the symbol of a pet.
The dog on the sign could have been a portrait of Liam real Liam next shot

Despite being banned from the walk, Liam saved some treat money and his name shows up on my page honor roll under the L's-Liam McNiff-Nikol

http://main.acsevents.org/site/TR/MakingStridesAgainstBreastCancer/MSABCFY11Eastern?px=12917412&pg=personal&fr_id=27996

He even tolerated wearing my pink scarf -a walk gift from a loyal LL reader

Ruth would have gotten a kick out of that.

Woof Woof

Networking with the Neelys

Liam about to wake up or maybe not

Chelsea Morning

Woke up, it was a Chelsea Morning
And the first thing that I heard
Was a song outside my window
And the traffic wrote the words
It came ringing up like Christmas bells
And rapping like pipes and drums

Oh, won't you stay
We'll put on the day
And we'll wear it 'till the night comes

Joni Mitchell

Walk To Chelsea from Penn

It is autumn and the daily temperature range is huge. If you are out for the day, you can experience winter, spring, summer and fall in a 12 hour span. And I did. I am headed downtown to The Food Network Festival, Sunday of Columbus Weekend 2010 in Chelsea, NY-see link for more info
http://www.nycwineandfoodfestival.com/2010/
our demo is with the Neelys, Food Network hotties, at 12 noon

However, since the NHP LIRR train is only once an hour, I must be on the 9:35 am to Penn. I am meeting my Peridot Pal at Starbucks on 16th and 8th Avenue. My train will deliver me to midtown about 10:15 am, so I plan to use the extra time to walk from Penn at 31st-about a 20 minutes or so, and go slow to max the time usage.

My outfit is a mix of several seasons and as I walk I see that everyone else has done the same.
I am not sure Tim Gunn would be able to stand it. I can just hear him "Walkers, gather 'round, it is not working, make it work!"
Or maybe, these unique outfits are or will be fashion, after all that is how a trend begins-folks mixing, matching, short and wide, covered, uncovered-
I see thigh high leather boots with skimpy shorts, sorbet color scarves looped around necks many times, with more total material than the tank tops and leggings they are garnishing. Woolly hats and denim jackets paired with flip flops and diaphanous inverted cupcake-wrapper skirts.

Sunday morning in Manhattan has a different feel. Those I encounter on my walk through Chelsea are not workers; so the pace is slower. Lots of groups pulling suitcases towards Penn. Dogs on walks- sniffing and sitting- tied to poles outside bagel shops and delis. No. I do not like the tying to poles. Saw this several times.
Dogs should not be left alone on the street.

On the sunny side of 8th-where I choose to walk- there is a shingle jutting from a store with one word "puppies." The puppies are displayed in the store window-squirmy creatures lumped together in each end of the window-their bodies indistinguishable from one another, unattended-this also disturbs me. and I store this visual away for future investigation. Before Liam, dogs were just part of the NYC scene, I would have thought that cute for the passersby, now I think-puppy mills or animal cruelty. Dogs are now a highlight and a concern, part of my pack.


Food Network Demo at 14th and 9th

We have tickets for the Neelys-see next link to check them out. Their Food Network show debuted with the highest ratings of any FN show when it came on in 2008. They hail from Tennessee, Liam's home town. I try to get him in the blog even when he is not physically with me; it is his blog after all.
http://www.foodnetwork.com/down-home-with-the-neelys/index.html

I meet my pal and we line up for our Neely demo. We are given Whole Food paper bags for the samples we are going to receive at the end. The crowd is buzzing but not boisterous. It is a 40 minute cooking demo on an early sunlit Sunday, not a dark Springsteen night concert, so I expect a low key, possibly sleepy gathering. As we file in, the crowd gets its buzz and it seems like the Neeleys are generating some heat. We have a brief pep talk by a Food Network warmer- upper and then the Neelys are out. Bruce watch out! This audience is rocking the house for the Neelys
Gina Neely is strutting and playing and Pat is cooking. They mix up some hush puppies, drop 'em in hot oil. The crowd seems to heat up as fast as the oil. The Neelys intersperse their cooking with questions from the audience usually answering with risque remarks. Many less y'all's than expected and many more "Hey babes."
Catfish is the main course and Pat cooks it while Gina takes more questions. It is over too quickly. The Neelys finish frying and hang with the audience, offering life philosophy-cooking together is love and Gina's tip for weight loss-being around food makes her want to eat less-she is noticeably svelte
Rocco is up next but we do not have tickets.
A fun, time.

Next, Tribeca- Brunch
Marc Forgione's restaurant in Tribeca-Reade near Hudson.
Why?
He was reviewed by the NY Times, food critic Sam Sifton, in the Dining section last week http://www.nytimes.com/2010/10/06/dining/06rest.html?scp=1&sq=marc%20forgione&st=cse
and is currently competing to be the next Iron Chef- Marc, next shot
airing Sunday nights on the Food Network.
See one of the current Iron Chefs-Bobby Flay

In recent years I have become aware that plate is not only a noun, but a verb. It may have always have been so, but Plating is an important element in the judging of an Iron Chef event. Plating is an active word, a verb-to plate. Plating too early is bad, but plating too late is dismissal..


We arrive at 2pm for brunch.
I have "Bacon, Egg, cheese"-Parmesan popover,scrambled eggs, sun dried tomato, applewood smoked bacon with chile sauce -go miners!
we have a side of spicy butternut squash home fries layered with skinny Parmesan strips washing it down with some red wine.
Had we not had our syrah red, our cholesterol levels would have shot up precipitously. Delish. Salty, bold, big, spicy, heavy-almost too much of many sensations, but just short of that.
I was full for a very long time.
And I did not show my friend's meatless dish, did not photograph well. No offense to the baconless.

The restaurant is open, woodsy, airy, light infused, loud- brimming with fun and diverse in its diner composition-families, singles, groups, a gay convention, couples, friends.

Our tip (there were 5's under the ones) rests on the ad for Iron Chef-see next pic

Iron Chef Sunday Night

Later that evening of a karmic date 10/10/10, our eponymous restaurant chef became the winner for the night's "Next Iron Chef" with his spin on Chicken pot pie.

http://www.foodnetwork.com/the-next-iron-chef/index.html

and of course it was our presence and toast to Marc's success at our brunch that ensured his victory that night.

Liam had a boy day with Daddy Paul, which seems to involve sleeping, snoozing, lazying on different couches and on colorful wraps

Woof, woof.