Alright noshers, I’m back with another delicious recipe that none of you asked for. Much like you, it’s simple, cheap, and delicious! I can’t take credit for this masterpiece, but I do make it quite often. It comes from Chef Roy Choi. If you’ve ever seen the movie or the series “Chef”, you’ll recognize him. He’s the brains behind the operation with loads of unique talent.
This ridiculously easy dish starts out with a single pack of ramen noodles with that little MSG packed foil pouch of magic soup dust. Don’t lose it. It’s very important.
Grab yourself a chicken egg (preferably, unfertilized) and 2 slices of American cheese. Trust me! Don’t go gettin’ all fancy and trying to use a better cheese. Nothing melts like American singles. Fight me.
You will also need toasted sesame seeds. I used to toast my own until I found out you can buy…
Hey everyone, I appreciate all of you for following me and my crazy brain. I have a new food blog up and figured I would invite all of you to join! I’m not leaving this blog, just starting fresh with another passion. Thanks again. ryaneatseverything.com
Last week my Memories on Facebook reminded me of the time (11 years ago) that my wife had meningitis and spent over a week in the hospital. Today was the day she got to come home.
Each year I think about how poorly I was treated by a manager and a company that I gave everything to for nearly 15 years. There were many moments that I was treated less than human, but this specific incident has stuck with me.
As a family, we had to quarantine for days to make sure none of us had contracted it as well. When I told work that I couldn’t be there due to the possibility that I could infect everyone I came into contact, I was questioned, ridiculed, and made to feel awful. Yelled at and my job threatened by my superior because he would be inconvenienced and have to make some changes to run the floor/bar.
I believed him. I thought I was an awful employee that was letting his co-workers down. I hung on to that for years. I was already suffering from anxiety, but this would throw it into a full-blown disorder that would still rear its ugly head many years later.
The worst part of it all is, he constantly preached how we were one big family that looks out for one another. It’s a line used by managers all over this country and it’s the biggest bunch of horseshit. It’s manipulation at its finest. I have a network of true friends and family that help and support each other no matter the circumstance. We don’t hold a grudge, nor do we owe each other anything for helping out.
Which brings me to “you owe me”, which is yet another manipulation tactic used to make you think you are indebted to this person for a lifetime because they gave you Friday night off. GTFOH!
I wish I had my amazing therapist back then. I wish I knew my self-worth back then. I wish I stood up for myself and told that company to fuck off 10 years sooner.
The restaurant industry needs turned upside down and big changes need to happen now. In 15 years, I never received a single promotion. I asked for more opportunities but was turned down. Why? I believe I was too valuable. My words, not theirs. I could serve, bartend, host, bus tables, manage, do dishes, and jump on the line to cook when needed. You’d think with such a versatile employee, you might pay them better. Again, a lack of self-worth.
Imagine running around a restaurant at peak dinner hour, for hours without a break, dealing with shitty customers, to then spend a couple hours cleaning your section, doing daily and weekly side work, and polishing/rolling silverware. Oh, and for those 2 hours, you’ll be paid server wage, not minimum wage. Somewhere around 3-4 bucks an hour.
Don’t dare speak out against this or else your hours will be cut or you’ll be given the shittiest section in the restaurant.
In 15 years, I took only a handful of paid vacations. The most I ever made was $125 for being gone for 5 workdays. The price of being a tipped employee, I guess. No sick days, no personal days, no benefits until the last year I was there and that was because of the laws being put in place. We were even encouraged to vote for the conservatives because a vote for democrat would certainly close the restaurant and we would be out of a job. Pretty sure that’s borderline illegal.
Now that I have left that life behind me, with no plans to ever return, I would love to see changes to the industry. Some ideas to start:
• Do away with tipping. I realize the restaurant will just raise their prices, but you’re going to pay for it either way. At least now your server won’t get screwed out of a tip from people that refuse. This doesn’t mean you can’t tip; it simply means the restaurant should be paying their employees a livable wage. This cannot be put in place until everyone is on the same page. Until then, tip your damn server!
• Offer employees paid sick and personal days.
• Offer employees a decent paid vacation so they can afford to be gone for a week.
• Once your last table leaves you clock out of server mode and back in as a regularly paid employee, since you’re done serving.
The restaurant industry as a whole, treats their employees like shit, pays them like shit, and profits off their ridiculously hard work, only to pretend they aren’t making money. How can you not make money on a $30 bowl of pasta and a $12 well martini from a vodka that cost $10 a bottle?
It’s all a huge lie. Think about this the next time your server looks overwhelmed and out of sorts, because they are. And that friendly manager that sits at your table tells you the restaurant is a family, is full of shit and would likely beat his employees if he could get away with it.
Most days you can find me at the local Starbucks, working on my laptop, sipping some iced bean juice, and listening to 90’s Grunge rock (Foo Fighters currently).
When I get stumped, I tend to look over the room and simply people watch in the least creepy way as possible.
Frequently sitting across from me is a Middle Eastern woman, I would guess in her 50’s, also plugging away at work. She looks very unapproachable, so I’ve never spoken to her. We just give each other a nod to show we recognize each other and then it’s back to work.
Today, there was a ruckus with an unhappy customer that caused heads to turn. You know the type, someone unhappy with their drink so they feel the need to berate those working hard. Thankfully, another customer shamed her for acting like a spoiled brat.
The woman across the table and I just looked at one another and shook our heads. We had a quick exchange about the absurdity of some people. After seeing this woman for a couple years, this was the most we had spoken.
Once I finished the article I was writing, I sat back and let out a deep breath and cracked my knuckles. She happened to be doing the same thing at the same time. We both had a laugh. She sparked a conversation, asking what I did for a living.
I would find out that she’s originally from Iraq. She’s been here for 15 years, earned her citizenship, got her teaching degree, and comes to Starbucks to grade papers because her kids never leave her alone at home. She explained how much she loves this country, but wishes people were nicer, not to just her, but everyone in general.
Her advice to many Americans was to stop complaining so much, because we really have no idea how great we have it. I love meeting people of different cultures, backgrounds, faith, countries, etc. and the opportunity to learn through those that are different than me.
I noticed she was wearing an Allah protection pendant. She said she was a devout Muslim and regularly attends the Mosque in Perrysburg. I explained that I always wanted to attend a service as I have with other religions but felt I wouldn’t be accepted. She laughed and reassured me that they accept all walks of life, especially those that want to learn more about a religion that is regularly bashed and ridiculed.
The conversation ended abruptly when her brother was video calling her from Iraq. Her face lit up like a lightbulb. I went back to finishing up so I could head home.
As I was putting away my laptop, I noticed she is crying tears of joy. I don’t have to speak her language to know how happy she was to be hearing from him.
This entire exchange made my day. It also made me think deeply about the world we live in. How can people wish death upon a group of people for the way they pray or because extremists use their faith as a reason to justify mass murder?? This woman and her husband fled their home for a better life. They’ve been through hell to get to a point of acceptance, even though many Americans still wish death upon them and their families.
I found myself getting angry and ashamed of the people of this country that think their white privileged lives are more important than those of different colors and ethnicities.
This woman and I are more alike than we are different, even though we are from opposite sides of the world. We both have kids, a sibling we miss, parents, careers, loved ones, daily struggles, etc. We don’t have to share the same faith to get along, to be friends, to share a meal or a coffee.
We are all far more interesting than the political party we follow or the God we pray or don’t pray to. I would much rather hear your story and what makes you smile and what makes you cry and what makes you who you are. Show me your personality.
When the end goal is peace, there are no walls, only bridges.
Alright, I’ve been getting a lot of requests for me to write a recipe for grilling steaks. That’s a lie. Literally not one single person has asked me to do such a thing. But here it is anyways. I apologize in advance to those barbecue purists that think they make the best of everything and follow bullshit rules that their grandpappy taught them. Listen, our grandparents weren’t good cooks. I mean, sure, it wasn’t terrible, but things have changed. The equipment is better. It’s a different time. We live in a food driven culture. It’s time we destroy the patriarchy!!!
*lifts broadsword and charges forth, leading an army of foodies to the nearest gastropub*
Sorry, I got a little carried away picturing myself in a modern day telling of Braveheart. I digress. What were we talking about? Ahh yes, cow candy. I don’t think it’s necessary to go through each cut of beef. Y’all are adults, functional or not, you likely know which type you like best. I used to be a huge ribeye fan. As I’ve gotten older, I don’t care for all the extra fat and connective tissue. However, if you’ve paid any attention to my previous ramblings, you’ll know that I love fat, because fat is….???? FLAVOR! Correct! Very good class. A ribeye will give you the most flavor but, much like myself, it’s fattier. I’ve come to love the New York strip. It has a beautiful fat cap on one side, which will impart tons of flavor, and it’s easier to cut it off when it’s time to eat. Assuming you’re allowed to use sharp utensils. If you want practically zero fat, go with a tenderloin filet. They’re tender and tasty, but I’m poor and they’re expensive. If I cook for you and I tell you we’re having filets, there’s a solid 99% chance I lied to you and you’re eating a sirloin. Deal with it.
Now it’s time to prep. This can take anywhere from a few minutes to a few days. You’re gonna want to whip that meat out at least 30 minutes before you’re ready to cook. Bring that slab of protein to room temperature. If you have the time, lightly salt both sides, place it on a wire rack, and leave it uncovered in your fridge for 24-72 hours. This is called “dry brining”, which is stupid, because brining is done with liquid. Don’t get mad at me, I didn’t come up with the name. The salt will help to break down the fat and make your meat more tender. It will also dry the surface for a better sear. 24 hours should be plenty of time, but if you need to cook these tonight, then wait to salt your steak until right before you’re ready to cook.
Your steaks are done brining and you’re ready to grill. This might get a little NSFW, so you children under 25, skip ahead to the next paragraph. You’ve been warned. I like to lay my meat on the counter and admire it for a few moments before slathering it in extra virgin olive oil. My wife and I then spend a few minutes arguing whether it’s 1 inch thick or 3 inches thick. We get the tape measure out and now she can’t stop laughing and I’m in the corner crying. It was in the cold fridge. It probably just shrunk a little. I digress. Now that it’s oiled, hit it with a ton of fresh cracked pepper. You better not be using that sad powdery stuff that’s in the shaker on the table. Invest in a good pepper grinder, ya heathen. There is no need to add a ton of seasonings to the steak. S&P is enough for me!
Next up, we prepare our cooking station. There are several ways to cook up your beautiful bovine, my personal favorite being a charcoal grill. The experts will tell you that a cast iron pan is the best. Maybe you should go read their condescending blog. I am no expert because I am always open to learning and I don’t get stuck in those patriarchal ruts like I mentioned earlier. Cast iron will give you a great sear, create a nice crust, and fill your entire house with smoke, causing every alarm to go off and scare your anxious little ankle biter under the couch for the rest of the evening.
Charcoal or gas are my go-to ways for cooking. Charcoal takes a bit more time to get set up, although it will provide the best flavor. Gas is great for those weeknight dinners when you need to start cooking now and not wait the 20+ minutes it takes to get your coals ready. Whichever way you choose, you will want your grates to heat up with the hood closed for a minimum of 10 minutes prior to cooking. This isn’t negotiable. You need a screaming hot pan/grate.
Your steak is at room temperature. You’ve oiled and seasoned perfectly. Your grates are piping hot. It’s time. I know where my hot spots are, so that’s where I first want to put my steak. I don’t use tongs for this. I just grab that hunk of beat red flesh with my bare hand and place it on the grate and give it a gentle press, letting the cattle gods know it’s in good hands and did not die in vain. Now, close the lid and let it cook for 2 minutes. I talked to your wife and she said you’ve never made it 2 minutes. What I’m saying is, set a timer, big guy. Once your timer dings, you are going to flip your steak to a different hot spot on the grill. Do not turn it over on the same spot. Once you’ve flipped, close that lid and reset your timer. Do not walk away from the grill at any point. This whole process takes very little time. The timer has gone off for a second time. You’re now going to flip it back to the original spot, with a 90˚ turn to get a more even cook. After 2 minutes, flip and turn again. This is how you get perfect grill marks. However, grill marks are only good for Instagram photos. They look nice, but I would rather the entire surface have that wonderful crust. This is where the purists will come out of the woodwork to tell me I should only flip the steak one time and that I’ve somehow ruined this meal. Well, I’ve tried many different methods on hundreds of steaks and I’ve yet to find this to be true. If you think about it, the best wait to cook food over a flame is with a rotisserie, constantly turning, thus creating the most perfectly even cook. There will always be haters. Just cook them next.
After cooking for a total of 8 minutes, move your meat to a warm spot on the grill and get out your trusty digital thermometer. Digital will give you the most accurate reading and doesn’t need calibrated or adjusted. Personally, I like my steak cooked to medium rare, which is around 135˚. This all depends on the cut of meat. For a ribeye, I like to go to medium. It renders the fat better and leaves you with a steak that you can cut with a spoon. Basically, start at 125˚ for rare and go up 10 degrees until you reach your desired doneness. If you like your steak well done (165˚), just buy a dehydrator and make yourself some jerky. Also, delete me from your friends list. We clearly have nothing in common. I’m kidding of course. Seriously, don’t contact me for any reason. If your steak isn’t quite to your preferred temp, then cook for 30 seconds more and flip for another 30 seconds. Keep doing this until your temp has been reached. It’s not a bad idea to pull the steak a few degrees before it reaches temp, because it will continue to cook. It’s much easier to throw the steak back on to cook it a little more than it is to invent a time machine and start over.
Once finished, transfer to a plate and toss a couple pats of butter on top. Cover the whole plate with foil and let it rest for 10 minutes. I know you’re tempted to cut into it, but do not do that. Set that timer and get everything else ready for your dinner. If you slice into it now, all the juices and flavor will bleed out on to the plate and ruin everything. I know you’re used to disappointing others, just don’t do it with this.
Now that you have the basics down, you can play around with different recipes, techniques, and cuts of meat. At the end of the day, this is your dinner to eat. Cook it the way you want. If you want to cover it in ketchup, I say go for it. Just maybe don’t invite me over that night. As always, Bone Apple Teeth!
As I continue to mourn the loss of my dear sister, I started to really think about others that have experienced similar tragedies. Those close friends and family that have had to endure the same pain that I find myself in, along with the rest of my family. Losing a loved one that has barely lived a third of their life, is tragic at best.
I have way too many friends that can empathize with the grief I feel. The number shouldn’t be as high as it is. My best friend lost his brother when we were in our late teens. An absolute tragedy that I could not even begin to grasp. I just hoped I would never have to know his pain. What saddens me even more, is the fact that he is family to us. He lost a sister as well. And she loved him like another brother.
It’s like we’re all part of an unspoken club that none of us ever asked to be a part of. When you’re connected through tragedy, you begin to understand each other better, even if you rarely speak. You see the fake smiles and forced laughter and recognize that we’re all coping in different ways. We don’t get together or have meetings, but maybe we should.
Losing a loved one that has lived a full life is never easy, but it’s easier to comprehend and the grief seems easier to deal with. My great grandma died 20 years ago, and I still miss her like crazy, along with my other grandparents, but it was just easier to understand and move on. I find that missing someone and grieving are very different, even though they may seem similar. I miss my first dog, but it doesn’t affect my everyday life. Losing my sister has made life very difficult. It’s made me question everything from my faith to my existence to the point of it all. Good days are hard to come by. Bad days are aplenty. Sad days are constant.
Grief is such a fickle thing. There is no right way or wrong way to grieve. There are healthier options, but how one person mourns is not the same as the next. Most of us turn to drugs or alcohol to soothe the pain, but it only exacerbates the suffering. It’s a temporary fix that only serves to numb the senses. I would love to tell you I chose the healthy option by going to the gym and working towards bettering myself. Unfortunately, this entire ordeal mixed with a divorce and health issues, has left me in a very dark place. When I do have good days, I don’t really know what to do with them. I almost prefer to curl up into that dark place because it feels comfortable. I know how to deal with it, and it feels natural. The problem with staying in this place of darkness is being alone with my anger and sadness. Alone to contemplate the point of my existence. I keep hearing that there will be “light at the end of the tunnel” and “things will get easier”. Well, I can’t see any light and it’s only gotten substantially more difficult. It may be the cynic in me, but I just don’t believe any of this to be true. At least not yet.
Alright noshers, I’m back with another delicious recipe that none of you asked for. Much like you, it’s simple, cheap, and delicious! I can’t take credit for this masterpiece, but I do make it quite often. It comes from Chef Roy Choi. If you’ve ever seen the movie or the series “Chef”, you’ll recognize him. He’s the brains behind the operation with loads of unique talent.
This ridiculously easy dish starts out with a single pack of ramen noodles with that little pack of magic soup dust. That little msg packed foil pouch is important, so don’t lose it. You’re also going to need a chicken egg (preferably, unfertilized) and 2 slices of American cheese. Trust me! Don’t go gettin’ all fancy and trying to use a better cheese. Nothing melts like American singles. Fight me. You will also need toasted sesame seeds. I used to toast my own until I found out you can buy them already toasted! I know, right?! No need to complicate things. The last two things you’ll need are a pat of butter and some sliced scallions, green end only. That’s green onions for you culinary deficient folks.
Now, this isn’t fancy ramen like the kind you get at some bougie place in downtown Ann Arbor, that you waaaay overpaid for. This is sustenance. This is life. This feeds your soul.
You’re gonna start off by boiling 2 cups of H2O and cooking the noods according to the package. I believe it’s 3 minutes. Let’s just go with that. Here’s a pro tip: Break up the noodles while they’re still in the pack. Makes life easier. And who doesn’t want easier, amirite?! Dump that freeze-dried pack of pasta (that looks like Justin Timberlake’s hair circa 1995) into the pan and add that concentrated powder pack of flavor and stir to combine. The instructions say to do it at the end. But they’re wrong and I’m right.
When there’s 30 seconds or so left on the timer you forgot to set, toss in that butta and crack that egg right into the water. Fold some of the noodles over the egg and let it poach. Now turn off the burner. I like to break the yolk almost immediately and stir it right into the soup, or you can leave it whole and let it continue to cook. This is your slop to eat, so you do you, boo!
If you’ve made it this far, congratulations. It’s time to transfer this scorching hot goodness to a bowl. I prefer a bowl over a plate, because it’s a bowl and bowls are good for things like soup. Plates are not. I also find it helpful if you don’t burn yourself during this process. Once you have it in your vessel of choice, slap those two pieces of American processed plastic that we talked about earlier, right on top. I know this goes against everything you’ve ever learned about cooking soup. You must trust me. Have I ever let you down before? If you know me, then the answer would be yes, but that’s a topic that only my therapist is privy to.
As the “cheese” begins to melt, you will start to understand the beauty of this uncomplicated dish. Sprinkle the top with those toasted sesame seeds and the green onion. I like to add a little (a lot) sriracha to mine or if I’m really hating myself, I’ll add a few dashes of Bravado’s A.K.A Miso Ghost-Reaper sauce. This stuff is seriously hot and will give you something to cry about other than your life choices.
It’s time to stir up this crazy concoction and get to slurping! I prefer to use one of those deep spoons you find at Asian restaurants. You can get them online for souper cheap. Chop sticks are another option, but I’m not coordinated enough for that noise.
This dish represents comfort. If food could wrap you up and give you a big hug, this is what would do it. If you suffer from depression, you will still suffer depression after eating it. It’s food, not bourbon. So, build a blanket pillow fort, put on your most comfortable clothes, (as if you weren’t already in them), que up Good Girls on Netflix and remember that a happy belly is a happy mind.
(un)Phased 