No Way

Kaze’s bar has a great happy hour and it’s quiet on Tuesdays. Quiet enough for me to read my Kindle, and maybe eavesdrop on the bartenders.

Tonight, the two bartenders, over the discussion of song lyrics, recognized they had an age difference. The younger one, upon getting the age out of the older one was “blown away.” “No way, dude.” Yeah, the old one kept saying. He showed his license and seemed pleased the young one didn’t guess him for all of 29. The old one was 29.

30 years old is about the time a portion of the population is beginning to find you old. It’s unnerving. This 29 year old still thinks aging is a lark. Shit’s about to get real, my young friend.

Smoke

Just because the smoke detector goes off doesn’t mean I’m not in control of the pan.

The smoke detector needs to watch more cooking shows.

Or maybe I’m an aggressive Sautéer. But brown onions and veges in a dry pan is a key to good flavor.

And waving at a smoke detector 16 feet in the may look like I’m fighting windmills, but I’m building flavor.