Knee Jerk Reactions

...and the people that get kicked when it happens.

Like most people who are concerned about running a successful, thriving business, I often agonize over my decisions as though they were life and death. No decision is ever that serious. What color should the boxes be? Am I using the right brand of butter? Should I have given that stranger so much info about me? Was it okay to accept that favor? What happens if I chose wrong? What happens if the choice I made ends up biting me in the ass?

What happens is that it's going to suck, I may lose some cash, I may lose a customer, I may get angry...But then I cut my losses and I move onto the next thing. I've been told by so many successful people that the right decisions are not always within arm's reach. Sometimes mistakes are made that will cost you in one form or another. However, your success is not marked by smooth sailing and all the thing that went right, keeping things moving. Success lies within stumbling over a mistake, picking yourself back up, correcting it, and getting things back on track. Being successful is all about making the best of ANY situation, and still managing to keep things going forward, despite the roadblocks.

And that's where I fail.

I'm quick to realize where I am wrong. I try not to waste time blaming people who dropped the ball or circumstances that just didn't work out. However, my recovery from the stumble is slow. I get stuck on the fact that I just fell flat on my face, and I have a hard time getting back up and getting things moving again.

It's all in my head. It's in my shame for having failed. It's in my anxiety of failing again. And, it's in my doubt of whether or not I can do this. Bottom line is- all that's gotta go.

I was just in Atlantic City Saturday night for my friend's annual birthday event with her husband and his friends. At one point, things got heated amongst the group, and I took a walk, finding myself in the observatory area of the Pier. If you haven't been there, it's a covered structure attached to Ceasar's that goes out into the water. (See the picture to the right. It doesn't do it justice, though.) The top floor is where all the high end restaurants are. Along the massive windows that surround the area are beach chairs set up on sand. So, it feels like you're sitting on the beach, staring out into the water. Here's a couple of pictures so you can sort of imagine what I'm talking about.

 

 

Okay, so that's the set up. Like I said, the pictures don't do this spot justice. As pretty as it is during the day, if you are looking out over the water during a rain storm, in the winter, or at sunset, the views are absolutely breathtaking.

I'm not a huge gambler. I enjoyed going to AC for the shopping, the eating, and most of all this spot. A couple of years ago, during a particularly rough patch, I had this awful nightmare. I was sitting on one of these chairs, looking over the ocean with my bf, (at the time). It started to rain. The waves were getting bigger. It was really so beautiful, we didn't move. As the storm grew more violent outside, the people around us started to run. They panicked that the rising tides would engulf the pier, break through the glass, and swallow everything up and drag it back out into the sea. The scene was still just so compelling, we both just sat there as the people around us scattered in the midst of the chaos. The waves did rise higher and did start to crash against the window in front of us. I started to get scared. I flinched back as wave after wave started to pound against the glass. I wanted to run, too. I wanted to get up and join the crowds scurrying away. My bf just held my hand, smiled, and told me to relax. It was fine, he said. The glass is strong. We would be safe. Just enjoy the show. Not wanting to leave him behind, I sat, holding his hand, still terrified that we were going to be showered in a rain of shattered glass and sea water any minute. But, he sat quietly smiling, stroking my hand, and silently assuring me everything was going to be okay. I watched as the ocean level arose, and half of our picture window was under water. We were alone now in this space. Everyone had run away. My stomach turned, sickened that any moment now, we were going to die. Before I knew it, the windows were completely submerged underwater. We watched the sealife that we didn't even know was out there swim by. Debris from the beaches and boardwalk floated through like toys in a bathtub. Everything was calm. I was calm. My anxiety abated. This was okay. Even if that glass broke and we drowned in those cheap beach chairs, it would have all been worth it to witness that scene and to give into the peace of the moment. It was a peace that I very rarely enjoy...ever.

About a month after that "dream" (or nightmare...I like to think of it as a dream), the bf and I actually took a nice long weekend vacation to AC. We used my timeshare, which was the first time I ever used that overpriced piece of property as an actual vacation for ME, and not my family or friends. As I walked him through this window area, and we sat on these same beach chairs, I tried to sheepishly tell him about my dream. I felt foolish trying to clumsily find the words to aptly describe the roller coaster set of emotions I went though- the happiness, the fear, the panic, the anxiety, and then the peace. I don't think I did a very good job. When I was done with my 5-minute botched summary of my dream, he kind of gave me a polite smile and a quizzical look. "I think you just need to learn to relax more, babe." A quick peck on the cheek, and that was his take of my super visceral dream. Communication was always one of my weakest points. =(

Anyway, that weekend was one of the best one's I have ever had in AC, and it's been difficult  for me to go back there ever since. This past Saturday was only the 2nd time I've set foot on that boardwalk since my vacation two years ago. In hopes of trying to let go of old demons, I tried to go grab a bite to eat at the Piers. They have a set of super high-end restaurants. The ex and I had eaten at 2 of the 4 places there. I was going to try and have a light dinner by myself at Phillip's seafood (our favorite restaurant of all the places we ate that weekend), but my stomach turned and I couldn't bring myself to do it. It's not the whole eating alone aspect. I'm over that. It was the food memory. It's hard to unburn a memory that you've associated with restaurants or food. Ok, well, it may not be hard for normal people, but it's hard for me.

I've said many times over that food is love. I share my favorite meals and foods with people I love. The more I love a person, the more I try to share my most honored foods with them. Since my track record has been so horrendous with life partners, I think I need to stop doing that. I've stopped going to some of my favorite restaurants because of this quirky habit. It didn't help matters this Saturday.

I opted for the high end sushi bar across from Phillip's. That was cool. Nice cocktails. A bunch of other lone diners, and a very friendly waitress and bartender. We struck up a conversation fast with one another when one of them spotted my ring, and before we knew it- we were talking about dragons, Lord of the Ring, Game of Thrones, and other geeky/medieval subjects. Then, I told them about my last vacation there, the dream, the food orgy, and the horrible fight we had the last morning of our trip. Maybe it was all the free drinks they were plowing me with or it was a slow Saturday for them or maybe we all just happened to click, but then everyone started to open up about past relationships and the way it affects them today. The waitress, Kelly, started crying when she talked about her ex. It was clear she was still in love with the guy, but settled on the guy she's about to marry in a few months. "He's good to me, he's stable, and I know he'll be a good husband...but he's not my ex. It's okay, though, I'll get over it." I tried not to judge her for her choice. We all make these decisions based on the hand we're dealt. All I kept wondering was, "What if you don't get over it?"She laughed and said, "Well, I guess I'll find out soon enough!"

I watched a couple fight this weekend. It didn't seem like the fight was sparked by anything too egregious. Someone said something. Words were exchanged. Before you knew it, one person walked out on the other one, muttering that it was over for good and that they were leaving. From my point of view, being a runner myself, I've always been the one to storm out in the heat of anger, muttering that I was done and gone for good....only to calm down, feel terrible, and then come back with a very sorrowful apology. This time, I sat there and saw what happened when the door closes after the person's stormed off, and I saw what it does to the person left behind. My heart broke for them. There were no words I could find to bring comfort because I have always been the asshole in the past. What does an asshole say to justify why another asshole just did what they did?

It's a knee-jerk reaction to a situation that can't be controlled at that moment. For my safety, I've always run. When I say safety, I don't mean emotional safety. In the past, I had to physically protect my well-being and put myself out of harm's way. I learned to run. Unfortunately, once I learned to do that, it was hard to stay put in the company of sane, rational people. Because the fear of getting brutalized is so engrained in me, my "Run" command is on a hairline trigger, and that has lead to the end of a couple meaningful relationships.

My kinks are still getting ironed out on that front, but I realized that I sometimes I take that route with my business. If things feel strange or unstable, rather than taking a risk, I run. I cancel orders. I refuse to take orders, pretending I don't have the time or the free dates. While protecting a larger venture with more money at stake would probably profit from this mentality, when you're a small business like me, this is the time to take the risks. This is the time it's okay to fall flat on my face, because there isn't much to lose right now. It's okay to mess up, because at this stage, it's still easy to clean and start fresh.

I realized that my knee-jerk emotional reactions will continue to hold me back as a person and as a business owner if I don't learn to get those things under control. It's not easy changing a pattern of behavior that you learned in order to protect yourself. As humans, we all instinctively take proper measures to defend or protect ourselves. 

My business is my baby. It's all I have to show for the last ten years of living. I've protected it as if it were my own child, but like a real child- I have to let it go and take some risks. I have to push it beyond what I can see within my own scope in order to realize what can actually be accomplished when no limits are set.

It's time to control the knee-jerk reactions, and stop kicking the opportunities set in front of me. What sucks being in the midst of the storm and reacting to the anxiety is that all that time spent fretting over the possible dangers takes away from the enjoyment you can have watching the beauty around you; things you didn't know were possible because you were too busy running away.

Change won't happen overnight, but it's a new conscious thought I have set in place. Don't be so scared. Don't be so quick to react. Take some risks. If I fail, it's still okay. Deep down inside, hell, I still know I'm awesome. Is there really anything else that matters? ;-)

Getting Started

I love decorating. When I'm in the thick of it, time is frozen and I'm in the moment, doing my thing. That's why I end up running late all the time. I don't care how much time I have left to work on a cake. I'm going to take however long I need to in order to make it look the way I like. I've showed up one hour, two hours, or even worse- three hours late to event because the cakes "just weren't right" in my opinion. Most of the time, they are so happy with the results, my tardiness is forgiven. However, being late all the time is a sure sign of an UN-professional and it leaves people with a bad taste in their mouths when they think about worrying about where the hell I was and where the hell is their cake.

A big part of my problem is procrastination and laziness. When I had my apartment and my Dungeon was then called my Garage- things were easy. My living room / workspace had everything I needed. Music? Cable? DVD's? Food? Couch? Everything was easily there. I had a HUGE living room. If I ran out of workspace on my workbench, I moved on over to the dining room table. If I ran out of room on the table, I slapped on the metal tabletop my ex made me to cover the top of the chest freezer we had in the foyer. All our furniture was fair game to be converted into some type of cooking equipment. And it worked. I had tons of lights. I had a huge air conditioner. I had NOTHING to complain about. When my ass took longer than it needed to get in gear, I had Joel to crack the whip and bitch me out for procrastinating. Yes, we argued about it, but in the end he was right. And things got done in a timely manner.

Things are much different for me now. My Dungeon really does feel like a Dungeon. The conditions are minimal, at best. I have an iPod dock, and I'll drag down my Netbook for all-nighters so I'll run some movies to keep my mind active. However, it's not pleasant to work down there. I run up and down to wash bowls and pans and measuring cups. I run up for eggs and water. I bring all my clean equipment back down when the dishwasher is done sanitizing everything. I wish I could throw the whole Dungeon in the dishwasher to sanitize it. What was once ALL my space has been cramped with more shit my family brought down into the basement for storage. People come down and take my pans, measuring spoons, whisks, etc...and then dump things they feel should be kept with my stuff any where they damn well feel like. It's a mess. I used to be proud how anal I was with my things. Ingredients arranged by size, type, and frequency of use. My stocks rotated to bring the older things forward and store the newer items in the back. My decorating sugars and sprinkles all separated by colors. I always knew what I had, where it was, how much of it I had, and when I would need to go out and buy more.

Well, to say it's not like that now would be a complete understatement. It's a fucking mess. Tonight, I was going to head out to Brooklyn, but my time is better spent sanitizing my Dungeon again. I feel like I'm constantly cleaning down there, and I don't really understand why the people in my house feel it's okay to be complete slobs in an area they don't belong in anyway. If Joel saw the state of my Dungeon today, he would probably drop dead from a heart attack. That man was so anal about how our work areas were kept, he would stop whatever he was doing, go out to buy cleaning supplies, and then come back and spend however long it took to scrub until he could see his reflection shining back up at him. Needless to say, those were the worse days for me. I would get lectured while he helped me clean. He would ramble on and on about laziness and lack of time NOT being a good excuse to let things go. He always harped that our home should be a place that anyone can walk into at any time and there should never be an issue of having to clean up before anyone came inside.

Fucking hell. He was right.

My Dungeon, whatever little time it is still the Dungeon, should be in a state that can welcome anyone at anytime without me having to stop and clean before allowing anyone inside. As much as I bitched about the man being so anal and OCD...Dammit, he was right!

No Barcade for me tonight. After what happened on Tuesday night with my beer group- I won't be drinking with these people again anytime soon. Tonight will be spent cleaning and baking. I want to be able to get some sleep, wake up refreshed, and be excited to head down into the Dungeon to start decorating my awaiting cakes.

I have a hard time getting myself started. I'm tired. I'm achy. I don't feel well. I'm comfortable vegging out on my bed in front of the tv, and I don't want to go work in the damn, dank, dingy Dungeon. It's cold. It's messy. I have to clean off junk people have thrown on top of my work area in order for me to work. I'm not even going to get into have to run through the gambit of the assholes who take up the space between the 2nd floor and the Dungeon.

I end up starting late because I have to mentally convince myself to get started. However, once I'm measuring and baking and scraping and mixing...I'm loving it. I taste to experiment with flavors and new ideas. I try out new techniques I saw on television or read about online. Before I know it, hours have flown by and by some miracle I have this beautiful cake in front of me that I know tastes fucking fantastic- unlike many other super-fancy cakes I've had.

I can complain about anything and everything. I'm good at it. But, despite the uphill climb to get going, I am happiest when I'm baking and creating. I'm in my own zone with a decorating bag in one hand and an offset spatula in the other. I'm good at what I do because I still love what I do. The problem is just finding the motivation to start doing it.....

I LOVE this guy's comics. Even though I'm not exactly an artist in the traditional sense of the word, if you go through his series "SYAC", he's got enough stuff in there that most people can relate to and appreciate! His style and sense of humor remind me a lot of my last ex. I've been such a downer the last few months. I figured I would leave this post with a chuckle. (Replace "Restaurant City" with "Cafe World", and that's pretty much my days off!)


SYAC - Procrastination by *TomPreston on deviantART

Good Grub: Beauty & Essex

Good grub. Gorgeous grub. Glamorous grub. Good God how expensive grub!

Beauty & Essex is beauteous. It's glitzy. It's all the sparkly, pretty things that the upper crust goes gaga over. It is hidden behind a pawn shop front. It's not a very good front. There's an insanely pretty lady behind the counter. Beautiful women dressed to impress do NOT work in pawn shops in the LES. Secondly, a 400 lb bouncer is guarding the door to the backroom. Although it wants to come off like a speakeasy, all I had to do with sashay inside with my swagger and a confident air. I smiled at the pretty lady and the large man, and the door was opened for me without much fuss.

Inside is beautiful. In fact, beautiful is a homely word to describe the decor going on within the hidden walls of Beauty & Essex. It's posh. It's decadent. It's over-the-top glam. The people who frequent this establishment are equally over-the-top, ornately decorated, and unnervingly too-perfectly-pretty. We're talking fur-lined stoles, vests, and dresses. Louboutin shoes, Prada clutches, and more fru-fru how-the-fuck-do-you-pronounce-that designer everything. It's breathtaking when you first take it in, but the shine quickly wears off. I'll get more into that in a minute.

Even knowing I was walking into one of the city's newest hot spots, I opted to go with my Hipster wear. Fuck it. I was in the Lower East Side. If my Precious (my most favorite pair of purple Converse high-tops) were not welcome there, then it would not be a place I wanted to be at. Period. Skinny jeans, purple Cons, some vague Geeky tee shirt, gray hoodie, and new-haircut arrogance carried my outfit. And despite my lack of over-priced designer labels, the fact that I was NOT dressed like anyone else had me standing out in my own little spotlight. And that was fine.

A new friend of mine made nice with the chef of this spot and secured a very coveted 8:15 dinner reservation. Because her other friend decided to show up late, we lost that reservation, had two overpriced drinks at the bar, and eventually got a table in the corner on the second level. As we waited, I took a trip down to the ladies lounge to check out this very famous bathroom. It was gorgeous. It smelled like perfume. You didn't even know there were toilets down there, they were hidden so well. Get this shit- FREE rose champagne at the small bar located down there....INSIDE the bathroom. Yeah, the bathroom was so damn CLEAN and pleasant, they had a mother fucking bar in there complete with free champagne.

Let me also point out that the attendants were all super nice. I can't get over how polite and friendly the staff was , from the overly pretty "pawn" shop attendant, the conspicuous front bouncer, the hostess, and the bathroom attendants. The lady bartender was very nice, but the male bartender was a bitch.

I already knew the menu before I got there. I knew the prices were inflated. I knew the portions were small. I knew I would probably leave poor and hungry. We opted to order several dishes and share among the three of us. First, there was an amuse bouche the chef sent out. Nothing fancy. A small frisee salad en croute with an aioli. (That was free.) Next came the lobster tacos and the General Tso's Monkfish. Both dishes were good. Tasty. The General Tso's Monkfish was innovative. I love monkfish. I love General Tso's anything. Nice combo! The lobster tacos were wrapped in soft tortillas, but small. The lobster was battered and fried. Though the monkfish came in nugget form in a small side dish, the three of us were able to have several pieces each. There was only one small taco for each of us. I'll throw in the breakdown later. Next up was the chestnut & ricotta ravioli and the crispy spring rolls. The ravioli (a personal favorite of mine, and my one pick of the night) was fantastic. The spring rolls were tasty, but again- just one a piece. Not cool. The ravioli only came with 5 pieces. Next up was the brick pressed chicken and a side of asparagus; yes, that's a separate order for the asparagus. The chicken was moist and tasty, but it was a small boned out thigh and leg. Small. It was cut up in sliced portions. The asparagus were steamed and seasoned. We finished off with their famous box of donuts for desserts. I expected donuts; you know-with holes. What we got were six small munchkins. Three filled with raspberry and three filled with Nutella. Each were fresh out of the fryer, covered in granulated sugar, and were piping hot. Munchkins- not donuts. Here is the breakdown of the prices:

Crispy Spring Rolls- $12.00
General Tso’s Monkfish- $16.00
Lobster Tacos- $18.00
Chestnut & Ricotta Ravioli- $18.00
Brick Pressed Chicken- $19.00
Asparagus- $8.00

Add another $15 each for 3 cocktails

The grand total with tax and tip came to: $63 per person   

I did not leave hungry. I was just full. Not overly full, but done. However, within an hour I was starving. That may just be me and the way my appetite works, but after a hefty, satisfying meal, I'm usually done for the entire night.

This is where the dazzle wore off. The place was jam-packed with all the "beautiful" people. There was a lot of wasted food on these tables. There were super loud conversations which made it hard to hear what was going on at your own table. By 9:30, the bar on the first level and the second level were both jam packed with the fanciest douche bags NY can offer, right along with the most glamorous bitches you can find to flirt with them. Everything is crazy expensive and overpriced. Although the space is large, it gets quite crowded. It makes it annoying to be there. The patrons are rude, although the staff is friendly.

Was the space beautiful, the staff stellar, and the drinks and food tasty? The space is gorgeous, the staff is impeccable, and the drinks were delicious. However, I've been to many beautiful places, I've had wonderful service before in diners, and I've had MUCH better food and cocktails that were not jammed full of ice. Although Beauty and Essex was good, I would not go back. It's too expensive and the vibe is not exactly the kind of scene I enjoy. Sure, it may look great on TV when you watch the glam of NYC converge in these ultra sexy spots. It's just not fun for me.

Beauty and Essex is great eye-candy, but not the kind of candy I'd be snacking on more than once. My opinion: Meh.

Timing is Ridiculous!

I'm packing-up/chucking my belongings at my parents house, getting ready to head out. There seems to be a stay of eviction because my mom wants to have my dad "committed" in a way. In layman's terms, he isn't thinking in the right frame of mind, and therefore should not be trusted to make important decisions. Whatever. I've been in enough sinking ships to know when it's time to jump off.

Because our government has so recklessly squandered our funds overseas, we may be facing a government shut down this Friday. That means they ran out of cash to RUN the country. Until some straight fiscal plans are made, we will be ordered to stay out of work with no pay.

Anyone want to slit their wrists yet? I know I do!

Packing up my Dungeon would be easy if I didn't suddenly get hit with an influx of orders out no where! In a way, I need the cash to stay afloat while my day job is shut down. On the other hand, I'm supposed to be looking for a new place to live, coming up with another grand in cash to afford said-place to live, and sorting out my shit in piles of "keep" and "toss". I tell you, that last job is wearing me down more than I care to admit. It's not easy throwing out pieces of your life.

Well, these orders are big. No piddly dozen or so cupcakes here and there. They're HUGE fondant cakes, multi-tiered, picture-worthy constructions that will push my cake decorating ability and my time management skills further than I have ventured before. These are the orders I always aimed at getting on a weekly basis, and now they're happening one after another. NOW! Of all times, now?

On top of all that madness, my portable hard drive died last week taking with it two years worth of pictures, my movie collection, and my business files. All gone. I thought I had managed to save a few of my logo files but when I tried to copy them into my new drives, the files were corrupted.

I guess this cyberworld is a lot smaller than I thought it was and my whining and bitching carries a lot further than I would have imagined.

Within one night, my ex sent me all my lost graphics, designed a new business card for me, fixed my website so that it redirects to my wordpress site, and enhanced some of the clumsy graphics I had thrown up there. Needless to say, I was so damn grateful I nearly cried. It also worried me. I mean, I don't keep contact with people who are no longer a part of my life, and I can't just pick up a phone and call someone for help when my carelessness has landed me in hot water. Safety nets are not always laid out, you know?

Just like Joel won't be around forever to pull me out of a jam, neither will the last ex. Eventually his life will start over somewhere new with someone new and all connections & memories we have with each other will be corrupted and lost just like the files on my faulty had drive. What then?

I may have the talent and ambition to run my own business, but there's still so much for me to learn. I realize I do have to lean on people who know better than I do about things they specialize in, such as marketing and branding, but I also have to know how to manage these things on a basic level so that I won't sink when they suddenly leave me high and dry.

The question is; do I put my business on hold so I can create some sort of REAL foundation for myself somewhere- a home of my own with a kitchen that NO ONE can snatch away from me? (Damn, it's happened so many times already! And people wonder why I have such abandonment issues!) Or do I just burn the candle on every end possible and run full steam ahead- business, new home, new kitchen, and hopefully I won't drop dead in the process?

I'm really worried. This year, I've picked up so many new repeat customers, my website is getting more than a hundred hits a day from all different sources, I'm being asked for cakes that are well beyond the scope of anything I had ever done in the past- and this is all GREAT! It's just so fucking hard doing this by myself. I know I need help, but what part do I ask for first? The legal business end? The manual labor? The technical aspect? The marketing? Who do I ask to come in and help me when so many people have fallen short and proven themselves untrustworthy in the past?

I wish I had a mentor I could turn to. The problem is that most people I know who run their own business started out with a lot of seed money to get them through the first year. With that, they hired lawyers, accountants, and employees. I don't have that kind of money and I don't have the credit available to start. So, it's the long way, which is fine. I don't mind putting in the sweat to get it started. I just won't have the advantage of a trust-fund business owner- playing with monopoly money. I don't think ANYONE'S money is monopoly money and I could give myself an ulcer worrying over money someone else lends me.

I do a lot of complaining about a lot of things, but I don't do nearly enough thanking. I am thankful for Joel who stepped in when I thought I was bottoming out. Although things are on hold with him until further notice for personal issues, he's been a good friend, a strong source of support, and the cool-headed counterpart I need when I start to get all antsy, anxious, cranky, and panicked. (Hey, it happens!) He came back at just the right time.

And I thank my last ex, TJ, for getting my tech files back and for making my business look pretty, funky, and better than anything I could have ever thought of in my own head. Without being asked, he swooped in and saved my ass and made things a lot easier for me. And I'm grateful for this thoughtfulness and generosity with his time and skills.

I'm not an easy person to get along with or to work with. I'm opinionated. I have a hard time settling on one decision when I feel like the weight of the world is on my shoulders. I often seek the advice of people who know better than I do, but I still have a hard time letting go of the control. Although these are character traits that hold me back in my business, they are character traits that hold me back in my personal life, too. Being burned so many times from all different directions tends to make a person guarded. I'm built like Fort Knox.

And despite all that, there are people who still want to help me and see me succeed. That shocks me.

I don't know what I'm going to do yet. I don't know what the smart thing to do is. I need a home of my own, but I need cash in order to get it, and I need to work in order to get the cash. I guess it's full steam ahead, and I'll just keep my fingers crossed and hope I hit a jackpot one way or another.

Wish me luck!

All Good Things....

...must come to an end.

Well, folks. It looks like The Dungeon will be shut down at the end of this month. The fucking dilapidated castle that houses the Dungeon is going to be sold, and I will be without kitchen or home.

I wish I could say I was desperately upset and panicked. I really don't know what I'm feeling right now. I knew something was going down at home. I knew things were being discussed in hushed tones and with all the fighting going down amongst everyone, the tension was fucking unbearable. No wonder I've been finding every reason imaginable not to come home. Beer groups, movies, sushi for one...You name it; I was there. Anywhere but here.

Anyway, the "big news" was dropped last night. Maybe Heir Ricky expected a huge response or tears or begging. That wasn't happening. With stupid excuses about money issues, a thing my parents have struggled with as far back as I can remember, and his failing health (yet again), good old dad pretty much laid it down that he was done. Giving up. He doesn't want the responsibility of the mortgage, mounting bills, and maintenance on his shoulders anymore. If you ask me, he has not done a good job on any of that for many years, anyway.

So, forgive my indifference. With one fucking disappointed handed to me after another on a silver platter like a 5-star culinary extravaganza, there's very little that can happen to me now that can rattle me any more. If I must go down, it won't be with tears in my eyes.

I remind myself time and time again that you can't map out your life like the itinerary of a vacation. You can anticipate the worst, set lofty goals, and hope and pray that you're prepared to handle whatever comes your way. This is what's coming my way now.

I have to sort through the material junk I've accumulated the last 32 years of my life and decide what's worth keeping and tossing. I have to find a new place to live, even though it's 6 months earlier than I anticipated. My Dungeon will be disassembled and placed somewhere safe until I can reestablish it elsewhere or I find a buyer willing to pay me a fraction of what my equipment is worth.

Don't worry about me. I'm okay. I'm always okay. I used to look around me and envy those who always managed to land on their feet; whatever had befallen them. Whether or not they prepared. Whether or not they were "good" people. (According to me, anyway.) Then, I looked in the mirror and realized I've always landed on my feet, too.

Shit, I've been through the ringer. I've had more crap happen to me than I care to remember, but here I am. I'm still the kind-hearted, honest person I was always proud to be. And despite all the disappointments, I've learned that I can still love with my entire heart- as though it had never been broken. Ain't that some shit?

Queenie Cakes isn't the roof it exists under. It isn't the shiny new Kitchen Aides, or the pretty new boxes, or even the beautiful logos or labels. Queenie Cakes isn't about having a thousand customers or a hundred customers. If I have only one; my business is still relevant to someone. Queenie Cakes won't be defined by a piece of paper saying someone owns this much of it or that much of it. Queenie Cakes is me. It always has been. It always will be. No matter where I go, no matter what I end up doing, when I put the flour and sugar together and create my "awesome", Queenie Cakes is alive and well.

So, please don't worry about me. I'll figure it all out one way or another.

Thank you all for your kind words, your constant support, and your jokes to make me laugh during all those times I wanted to cry. My friends, you always remind how strong I am and how good I am at saving myself. Your sentiments have not been lost on me. There will be no pity party thrown on my behalf, okay?

Things will be just fine. They always are.

Much love,
~Katherine

Business and Politics

Hypocrisy or ethics?

Remember my do-good / feel-good rant the other day, which subsequently was taken down for personal reasons? I went on and on about contributing to charities and good causes and such? I wrote about how it made me feel at peace and happy for being able to help those who come to me for help?

Today, my friend "L" contacted me about some cupcakes for a very high-end bake sale she was putting together for a friend. She wasn't even asking for them outright for free. She was willing to pay a fair amount and get my company name out there. She wanted to hook me up with free labels and packaging. She wanted to give me the name of a trademark lawyer, a guy she used to date, who would be more than happy to get my business registered and legit. Why so generous?

Because the fundraiser was for a Republican "group", she said she wasn't at liberty to discuss it in detail until much closer to the event. Several big names were thrown at me, none of which are heroes of mine by any means. I'm not exactly sure what this money is being raised for specifically, but I had the notion that it was going towards a political party that I do not support, believe in, or want associated with me or my business.

The Golden Carrot she dangled in front of me was tempting. I know this girl through other people, and she seemed to like me because of what I do; the cake thing. Out of 800 or so of her social network friends, she shoots me a comment, a "Like", and the occasional chat or message at least a couple times a week. We have run into each other at a couple of social functions the last couple of months, but we are not besties in any sense of the word. She's a connector. She's the girl you want to know if you need an introduction to the right kind of people. She's at all the right parties, eats at all the right places, works all the right media outlets (as her job), and has a pleasant enough disposition for you to not hate her guts out of pure jealousy. I like her. I think she's cool. She's got the perfect personality to fit the job of "knowing" people.

The revenue I would have brought in with her offer was tempting. 500 cupcakes is no small feet. I would have had to hire help on this one, and even with that, the payoff of getting Queenie Cakes legit is worth more than the cash we discussed. Something was nagging at me, though. Something didn't sit well in my stomach.

Understood, I would be selling her cupcakes at a huge discount so that she can turn around and sell them for a huge amount of money for her fundraiser. As a favor to me for working this fundraiser and cutting my profit margin for the sake of the cause, she would hook me up with the right people to help me out. However, the money she would be making with my help would be funding a group that I detest wholeheartedly. I'm not going into politics on this blog. I believe everyone has a right to believe in whatever the hell they want without the fear of other people shitting on them for it.

I may not agree, and I may roll my eyes, and I may mutter my disgust with like-minded individuals, but I will not stand in the way of the backwards or obtuse views of others. It's their right, such as it's mine to disagree. However, the idea that I was whoring out my wares for a favor made me feel like I was signing a contract with the devil. Would I ever want to admit that Queenie Cakes got it's start with "seed" money that originated by helping out this political group that I never want to be a part of? (I know I said I didn't want to name names, but Christ almighty, Sarah Palin was whispered as if it was supposed to impress me. I have no clue what capacity her role was for this fundraising, but if the object of the name-drop was to impress me, the results couldn't have been more opposite.)

I thought about this. Honestly, I didn't think too long. I knew I didn't want to do this. I knew it would take a lot of work, days off from my day job, and producing a product that would cost me more money to make than I was charging for the "cost" of it, and all for a cause that I heartily disagree with.

I wrote her back that I had orders booked that week and that weekend. (This is true, but they are not so huge that I had to cancel them for this.) I said that job actually seemed a lot bigger than what I can realistically handle right now at the size of my operation. I said I didn't want to agree to a job that I knew I wasn't capable of handling properly, and she should probably contact a baker who will give her a product she can make the most money with. "L" tried to talk me out of it, tried to cut it down to 250 cupcakes instead, and wanted to give me her contacts in Long Island City for some small communal kitchen space I can rent for a few days. She would expense it herself. However, I told her it wouldn't solve the problem I had with orders I already booked. She said she understood. To make matters worse, she even praised me for being so loyal to my customers and not dropping their orders for a bigger fish. Oh, if only she knew....



I just couldn't wrap my head around the cause. I just couldn't get behind it. I've donated to diabetes, autism, march of dimes, domestic violence, sick children, breast cancer, education in Bangladesh, etc....and not all of  these causes were dear to my heart, but someone needed my help and I was able to give it. That was payment enough. In this case, something inside me just refused to make it that simple, all because of the politics behind it.

Am I wrong? Did I just make a huge mistake in the name of political differences? Is my soapbox so firmly stuck to the ground that I can't see the bigger picture around me?

I think business-wise, I made a mistake. Unfortunately, I am not driven by money and rapid growth. I have to love what I'm doing. I have to believe in my actions. If I can't look in the mirror at the end of the day, is it worth gilding my baking enterprise just for the sake of being a bonafide presence?

My baby may be small for it's age, but it's chugging along nicely. It may take me a little longer to get where I'm going, but when I get there I won't look back and feel ashamed by the hands that helped me along the way.

I'm sorry, L. Love you, but hate the cause. No hard feelings?

Good Grub: Eli's

I finally got to check out this place! I used to hear about it all the time from my old bosses when I worked at the Fashion District. They owned a very swank apartment on the Upper East Side and constantly talked about the fantastic brunches they had here.

I FINALLY had an excuse to go this past Sunday to celebrate my buddy Josh's 25th Birthday!! (Happy Birthday, Josh!!) His family treated him & his friends for a fantastic brunch.

As I walked through the restaurant to get to the table in an adjoining room, I couldn't help but notice all the fantastic looking brunch plates on the other tables. There was french toast, crepes, blintzes, and various omelets and fresh juices. Each table had a large basket of various sliced breads, fresh butter, and various crocks of jams and jellies. This was my favorite part. I'm not a big juice girl because the acid kills me, but the freshly squeezed oj was just fantastic. As I scanned the menu, I realized again that I'm just not a huge breakfast fan. I don't cook breakfast foods very well because I rarely eat breakfast. If I do have a meal early in the day, it more closely resembles some sort of lunch.

At the suggestion of our hosts, and because everyone else was doing it (Damn you, peer pressure!) I went with the all-you-can-eat salad bar. Let me tell you why this was a mistake for someone like me.

1. I just don't eat huge meals early in the day. Granted, we started eat at about 2pm, but a buffet meal is something that fits dinnertime much better for me.
2. The salad bar is the same salad bar that they have in the main specialty food store that they weigh for people to take food home. Everything is cold. It was a fantastically large food bar with tons of choices. However, the hot foods were all stone cold and they wouldn't heat it up in the restaurant.
3. I loaded up my plate, not realizing all the food was cold and was in for a rude awakening when I dove into my paella. It was all very tasty and I was able to load up a HUGE plate of food which still adhered to my no-meat policy.
4. After my one plate, I was stuffed, and I felt like I didn't eat enough to make that plate worth it.
5. Josh's uncle ordered cheese blintzes and they looked delicious! Absolutely delicious!!! So, that kicked in my food envy.

Overall, I think the food at Eli's was really good. Even the salad bar veggies and options were seasoned well and very tasty. If I can get back there for another brunch or even a dinner, I would get a hot plate of crepes or pancakes. From what I know, Eli has a bread shop and all the baking is done on premises. That would explain their fantastic bread basket.

After brunch, we all walked around the specialty food shop located on the lower level. As a foodie, I felt like I was shopping through Tiffany's. I was excited with the options at every turn. A huge array of imported and domestic cheeses, shelves of olive oils and vinegars, and countless other wonderfully high-end food items. Being the UES, the prices were ridiculous. (Much like the prices of jewelry at Tiffany's.) However, it was fun to window shop!

Eli's is located at 1411 Third Ave. Have fun, but bring a clean credit card or a ton of cash if you plan on coming home with souvenirs.

Good Grub: Goose Island Night Stalker

Technically, this post is about beer, not food, but it was so good, it was worth the post. After my beer group's distillery tour, we walked over to Mission Dolores for a few brews. I saw Goose Island Night Stalker on the menu for a price of $6 for an 8oz glass. That immediately piqued my interest even though it didn't really say what kind of beer it was. I would imagine something called "Night Stalker" would be dark, which is right up my alley. The fact it was being served in such a small container tells me it's rich, another plus in my book. I assumed it would be some thick, dark, chocolaty stout. My senses were going crazy!

I let someone talk me into trying something different, the special cask beer. It was a Southern Tier 2X IPA w/ an alcohol content of 8.5%. Enjoyable, but nothing to write home about. It was nutty and interesting. When I finished that off, I was happy to grab my Night Stalker. What an experience!

It was served in a smaller glass, something you might serve scotch on the rocks in. It was thick and dark, like I imagined. It was a sipping beer. I would almost compare it to a Bourbon. I have never had a beer like this on tap before! I was deliriously happy!

The taste...Definitely roasted and heavy, almost a little bitter. There were slight notes of caramel and maybe a little mocha or chocolate- nothing as strong as any other chocolate stout I've had, but much, much richer and silky. I could have had another glass and sipped that contentedly all night long, but I stayed within my two beer limit. Also, at nearly 12% alcohol content, I think two would have been more than enough! I regretted having the first cask beer instead of just two of the Night Stalkers that I wanted from the start, but I have to try new things if I'm ever going to expand my palate.

Night Stalker is brewed out in IL. Had I known then what I know now, I would have been a lot happier during my trips out to Chi-Town! 

I don't venture into Brooklyn as often as I used to, but if I had to, this bar would be at the top of my haunts....If not for the chill vibe and cool attitude of the staff; for the fantastic array of beers on tap and for the chance of encountering the Night Stalker once again.

Two VERY enthusiastic thumbs up!

Mission Dolores
249 4th Ave
Brooklyn, NY

Goose Island- Chicago's Craft Beer

Field Trip: Breuckelen Distillery

This past Saturday, my Craft Beer group held a meet-up at this fantastic distillery in Park Slope, Brooklyn called Breuckelen Distillery. Back in my heavier drinking days, I was the original Tanqueray girl. I loved gin. The heavy floral nose of juniper berries that punched you in the face, the distinct depths of angelica & coriander....Ah. Heaven! The other great thing about gin? Because it's such a distinct flavor, one needs a much more sophisticated palate to appreciate it. What does that mean to a 20-something year old out with her friends? It meant I didn't have my vodka guzzlers or Jameson lovers siphoning off my drink while I wasn't looking. (Yes, I hung out with a bunch of sponges.) They hated gin. Lucky me!

Well, Breukelen's gin is a lot more tame on the nose. As I walked from the subway, down 19th St, waiting to cross under the BQE, I could smell liquor-making in the air with heavy whiffs of yeast and fermentation coming down the street to greet me. I was very excited! The tour was fantastic and very informative. With our large group of 17, Brad answered every question, gave us a taste of the gin in various stages of production, and let us climb ladders and peek into various barrels and drums like nosy little kids. It was fantastic!

It ended with a tasting of gin and whiskey. While holding very interesting flavor with toned down notes of juniper (which is what makes gin Gin), they have their own blends of flavors and aromatics that creates a much tamer spirit with more subtle notes. Some of the other elements in their blend include rosemary and lemon- a combination inspired by a risotto dish the founder Brad had one night. Although not as domineering as my old friend Tanqueray, I can totally see myself making my gin drinks with Breukelen's spirit; a mere $38 for a bottle. After a night too heavily spent with Tanqueray, it's been nearly a year since I've had a sip of gin. My once beloved juniper, angelica & coriander bouquet that used to whet my whistle now makes my tummy do somersaults in ways a motion-sensitive girl cannot take. This lighter version of my favorite liquor seems a perfect new addition to my cabinet.

The whiskey was a nice surprise. I've been a Jameson's fan for almost two years now. I would describe Breuckelen's Whiskey as something that comes between Jameson's and Jack Daniels but with a heavier color and taste; closer to Jack. Nice oaky flavor...hints of smokey goodness. I was a happy girl! I didn't even need the Coke this time! It was perfect on it's own...the little taste that I got.

I strongly urge everyone to give them a visit at their Park Slope distillery, where you can get a tour and a tasting for $3. Brad and the rest of the staff is very friendly, knowledgeable, and inspiring. This business uses all local ingredients; their grains grown upstate. They try to be as green as possible, which is always a plus in my book. Support your local small businesses. If you're going to spend your money; put it someplace where it will do the most good! Like I mentioned, a bottle of gin is $38 and a bottle of whiskey is $41. (Prices are subject to change, of course.)

Breuckelen Distilling Co. gets a thumb up!

Breuckelen Distilling Company Inc
77 19th Street
Brooklyn, NY 11232
(347)725-4985
http://brkgin.com/

Gross Grub: Jaya

***UPDATED 4/7/2011***
After much thought about how garishly bad the food was here, I couldn't in good conscience keep calling this post "Good Grub: Jaya". So, I changed the title and the label, but I'm leaving the original content as-is. 

Don't be fooled by the name of my post. There nothing good about this grub. I try to keep this blog focused on my business, but how much can one write about cake, artistic insecurity, money issues, and trustworthy people? So, every now and again you'll get a short restaurant commentary from me about awesome food or not-so-awesome food. This post is about the latter.

I work downtown during the day, a five minute walk away from Chinatown. When the weather gets nicer, like it has been the last few days, I take a walk and have a little something. Being that I'm in the middle of my No Meat phase, Chinatown gives me a nice variety to choose from which does not include any mooing, oinking, clucking, or quacking buddies of mine.

My quickie lunches of choice always swayed between Wonton Garden, for their soup noodles with various dumplings or the Singapore Cafe; fantastic cuisine in a very chill contemporary setting. Well, Wonton Garden fell out of my good graces after I bit into a dumpling that didn't quite taste right. I immediately paid my bill and left the rest of my bowl uneaten. I got many dirty looks as I hurried out of there. Singapore Cafe had recently shut down and reopened as a table-cloth fru-fru type of eatery, and the service was less than friendly when I went in there to investigate. I was standing there for several minutes as waiters and waitresses rushed by, ignoring me. Fuck that. This is Chinatown was PLENTY of food options with better service.

I've been frequenting many Vietnamese eateries for delicious bowls of Pho. Sans meat, it's just not as yummy. So, I figured I would give Jaya a try. It it was Malaysian. I hadn't had authentic Malaysian food since my ex-friend Christine and I parted ways over a year ago. (Side note - I have many ex-friends. Too bad the one's I no longer talk to were awesome foodie. I think my report card over the last three years will read "Does not play well with others.) It looked clean and inviting from the outside. It's located on Baxter street, right next to the Tombs. (The Tombs would be the Manhattan detention center....the place they take your ass when you get arrested in the city.)

I hate standing there, waiting to be seated while there are empty tables, waiting for diners to sit. I can understand a lunch rush which would keep the waitstaff rushing and busy. But, it takes a minute to grab a menu and seat a bunch of people clogging the entrance, and it takes more time to serve food, grab checks, and bring back change to people already seated and situated. While your new arrivals are scanning the menu, you can attend to the rest of the people waiting for food or checks or change. Duh. I contemplated walking out and heading to another spot for lunch, and nearly did. I wish I went with my gut and left. I would have been spared a terrible lunch.

I ordered Roti Canai, a very typical Malaysian dish which a thin, flaky flatbread often served with a curry side dish which mostly serves as a spicy dipping sauce. There's often a little piece of chicken or other type of stewed meat in there. It looks similar to this: (see picture on the right)

It's something I often got at the Singapore Cafe, even during my meatless phase. I would just dip without partaking in the piece of meat in there. This is a very traditional and typical Malay dish that NO ONE should mess up if they are calling themselves a Malaysian restaurant. The Roti was fluffy and crispy and tasty. The sauce was spicy and well seasoned, but it was hard to get to it with the huge layer of oil floating there on top. Maybe it's traditional to be that oily, but all the other places I've had it has never been that oily. It was a bit of a turnoff.

Not wanting to take the tourist route and order pad thai, I got seafood pan fried noodles instead. Not Malaysian at all. What a mistake! Have you ever cooked with cornstarch? Well, you make a slurry of cold water and cornstarch, and then add it to the heat with the cornstarch already dissolved in the water. When it's heated and the cornstarch cooks, it turns into a gelatinous, shimmery thick paste. A teaspoon or so of this slurry is usually added to many Chinese sauces or dishes to achieve that thick composition and to add a little sheen to the finished product. While yummy and pretty when it's first served, it makes saucy Chinese food really unpleasant to reheat and eat as leftovers. You have chunks of cornstarch-thickened bits of jelly-sauce that never returns to that awesome saucy texture it was when it first comes off the fire. It's Just Gross.

The beauty of pan fried noodles is the crispy, crunchy texture of fried noodles topped with a rich sauce, which then slowly starts to soften the noodles. You eat it quickly to keep some of that crunch with each bite. I'm not a fan of white sauce served with Chinese seafood dishes. To me, all it tastes like is a ton of cornstarch cooked in water with some salt and pepper with the seafood tossed in at the last minute. I forgot to ask for a "brown sauce" and was sorely disappointed when the white dish arrived at my table.

Here's the rest of it. The dish was topped with multiple pieces of crab sticks. No, not crab legs. Crab sticks. Pureed white fish pressed and colored to imitate crab leg meat. I'm not a fan. There were 5 fishballs; pureed fish and dough that have been boiled then pan fried. I'm not a fan of those either. It looked like there were a couple of pieces of scallop that have been sliced from one huge scallop. And there were two overcooked, uncleaned shrimp at the very top. I attacked the noodles with gusto, trying to enjoy the crunch. Unfortunately, I couldn't get past the mouthful of disgusting, gelatinous white sauce that covered EVERYTHING.

I ate as much as I could. After two huge mouthfuls and difficult swallows, I gave up. I tried to pick out some of the seafood, but my taste buds weren't having it. I pushed the plate away, and asked for the check. My young waiter/waitress (she/he was sort of androgynous-on purpose, I believe), was much nicer than the one who took my order, and he/she offered to wrap up the rest of my lunch. After hesitating, I agreed.

This is why. No matter how bad the food is, I won't take it out on the waitstaff. Unless I get really horrible service, I am not rude to these hardworking people. It's not fun serving people because most people are rude, nasty, and have an insane sense of entitlement. Also, just because I don't like something doesn't mean that 99% of all their other customers don't love it. As a chef, I would feel terrible if someone didn't touch the food I just made. Not that these people would have cared either way, but I chose to go with the whole treat others the way you would want to be treated.

I paid, tipped, and headed out with my little doggy bag, which I promptly dumped into the nearest trash receptacle. I don't like wasting food, but I couldn't try to feed that mess to another person with a clear conscience.

Here is where Jaya fails.

• Poorly trained waitstaff. Seat the people, then serve the people. 
• Identity crisis. Malaysian/Thai/Chinese. No, no, no. Pick a specialty and do it well. Better to have one style that you knock out of the park, than several that are mediocre. I had a Malay dish and a Chinese dish. Both were mediocre. 
• Poor ventilation. I don't know about you guys, but I don't like coming out of a restaurant smelling of someone else's lunch. Not good.

Alas, my search for southeast Asian cuisine will have to continue. Jaya won't ever be a repeat. In fact, I pointed a large group of Swedish tourists to eat elsewhere as they read the menu outside when I came out. I sent them to the Peking Duck House. A little pricier, but better service, clean restaurant, an a tourist-friendly menu. I suggested they order the Peking Duck, and they were very excited about that.

At least I know they'll have a better lunch than I did!

Quote Worthy - Chasing Assholes

"Wer mit der herde geht, kann nur den arschen folgen." 

"He who runs with the flock inevitably follows assholes."

~ Chef Max Stiegel (I hope I spelled him name right.)

This was a quote taken from last night's "No Reservations" episode which was filmed in Austria. Isn't it true, though? If you're a follower and not a leader, you end up with a face full of ass. I don't know about any of you, but I'll be damned if I live out the rest of my life chasing another asshole. On the other hand, if you must follow an ass, I happen to think mine if pretty damn cute!

First Stumble

Well, I wasn't naive walking into my new "partnership". And my friends are right; it's a not a true partnership because I'm not handing 50% of my business over to anyone. He's more like an employee that I pay for his services, as needed. And it's no secret that it's my ex. I tried to be respectful and not mention names, but with all 3 of you reading, I don't think it hurts much, and anytime I've written about him it's mostly been over positive anyway.

Like I said, I wouldn't have gotten as far as I did with Queenie Cakes if it wasn't for Joel. He got most of my equipment and supplies at off-the-truck prices, and got the cakes delivered. He also spoon-fed me many customers those first two years. Besides that, he also kicked my ass when my attitude started to slide back towards Lazy Ass Valley. My worst year could be attributed to him, too, but I won't bitch too much about it. It's over and done with.

Earlier this month, I got my annual phone call from him on the same day I get it every year for a very personal reason. Besides the "how are you" nonsense that exes go through, and then the slew of apologies that he recites like a rosary year after year, he also passed on a nice cake order. I was not going to take it at first because there was no way I would have been able to deliver to the location. He offered his services. I declined at first, but then he admitted he could use a little extra money and he would appreciate it if I could send catering orders his way if I get something I couldn't take on.

Hence, our agreement was struck. I was very clear that certain boundaries are to be maintained and that if any of our rules were broken, then this little contract would be ripped up immediately. The first few runs were good. He filled in to deliver when I couldn't do it, he helped me get supplies from cheaper sources, and he's thrown me some new customers. He's also stepped in to make some important decisions when I was too tired or too addle-brained to think clearly, like donating the cupcakes straight out and not charging anything for them. That has since paid off with several cupcakes orders and two party cakes in the coming months.

I don't like being friends with exes. I don't like having a reminder of the past; good or bad. When it's over, it's best to understand that it's over, let go, and move on. For me, that's the healthiest route to take so I can be the best I can be without any ghost of the past holding me back.

I have since let go of my past with Joel. I've forgiven him for horrible things he did and almost did. I've also filed away our feelings for each other in neat little scrapbooks that hide away in the back of my closet. I appreciate him for all he has done to help me grow as a person, but I know my path leads elsewhere, and NOT to a home back with him. Seeing that he's living with a new woman, himself, I felt like I was treading on safe ground. He's moved on. I've moved on. Can't we just make some money together?

Like I said, things were going well until Friday. He helped me out big time this week with this Yo Gabba Gabba order. He even got me to Brooklyn in record time to deliver. Holy shit, for once, I was EARLY! I don't remember the last time I was early for anything.

My bowling night was canceled. After the set up, Joel offered to drive me to Hicksville so I could get some storage things for my stuff; things I'll need this summer for my move. I was also able to get some new containers for my decorating knick-knacks.

I should have known better. During the 30 minute drive out there, he tried to walk down memory lane- a stroll I immediately shut down. While shopping around the store, he pointed to furniture we used to have, decorations we bought together, and memories I had safely tucked away. I wasn't getting weepy. I was getting angry. The final straw came when we were on line, and I was paying. He was dutifully bagging up my purchase and he asked me a question, something like, "Do you want it all in the same bag, boo?"

I flipped. As we walked back to the car, I made it clear again that I'm not his "boo", his "honey" or any other term of endearment anymore. I said if this sort of thing were to continue, then this agreement we have together would end right there. He promised it was only a mistake; it wouldn't happen again.

We grabbed a bite to eat before heading back to Queens. During the meal, a got a call from a friend, asking me to come upstate to visit with him. (No names.) I told him I would check my schedule and my funds and get back to him, but I wasn't in a position to discuss it at the moment. For someone who claims to have hearing loss, Joel seemed to pick up the conversation well enough and made some snarky remark about my friend and my intentions. Both of these things are obviously none of his business and I told him so.

The rest of the night passed quickly, and I was happy to get home. For my business, our agreement has been great. Even with the money I pay him, more orders means more income and even with the added expense of his services, it's still more money than no orders at all. However, I fear that I was too eager to give him a fresh chance and maybe his intentions are changing the more time he spends with me.

I know this song. It's the same one that played the more my ex-friend Jonathan and I hung out. As much as he kept saying he was cool with just a friendship, his actions proved otherwise. In the end, it was smarter to cut that tie permanently.

I'm at this fork in the road. Cut Joel loose before things get stickier or give him a chance to show that he can keep his memories in the past? Everyone deserves another chance. I've given our romantic relationship all the chances it deserves, and I know with every fiber of my being that he is not the one for me. Our business relationship has always been strong, and I wonder if it's smart to treat that as an independent entity with it's own set of chances, or if I  should just take a page out of every other book I've read in the past and shut it down before things get worse.

Everyone makes mistakes. Everyone slips up. I know I've done it. I want to give him another shot. Truth be told, I need his help. I can't do the added load by myself, and I don't know anyone else I can trust the way I trust him with my business. I just don't trust him to keep his yearnings for the way things used to be at bay.

This is how I left things with him on Friday;

"You and I are as dead as our child. If you can't leave our relationship in it's grave, then you need to walk away now. This is never going to work if you keep trying to relive what's over."

I know, I know. It was way harsh, and very blunt, but I don't know how to be any other way when faced with these kinds of dilemmas. I'm not going to pretend that I know what's best for me or my business. I know I try to choose what is right. Many times I choose wrong. I'm not sure now. I know I want to run as far away from him as possible, but running has only landed me in deeper trouble. So, do I face it or try to see it for what it is or do I give up now for what "might" happen?

I guess time will tell. In the meantime, I have to work on getting myself in a position to handle my business on my own. Even if Joel and I can manage to ink out a reasonable working relationship, he won't be around forever. Maybe I won't be in NY forever. Then what?

Time will tell.

Yo Gabba Gabba Brobee Cake

As promised, my Yo Gabba Gabba Cake in all it's glory.

I Did It!! Yo Gabba Gabba Group

I'm in the weeds! The cake isn't assembled and I'm sitting at work right now, but I just finished my fondant decorations. What do you think? Did I nail it?

Tired, But Smiling

No sleep last night. Five dozen batches of Irish Car Bomb cupcakes. No, there are no ridiculous four-leaf clover cut outs on top or green-tinted frosting. I sprinkled some pastel green dragees and some leaf green sugar crystals. That's as hokey as I'm getting with St. Pat's deco. It still irked me to do the green on top. I feel like it makes them look as though there should be mint in the cupcakes. There isn't. There's Chocolate Stout baked into the cakes, Jameson's & Godiva brushed into the cake, and Jameson's & Bailey's in the frosting. I'll put up pictures tomorrow.

Since I started fairly early, I was able to rest a little and sculpt. Yes, indeedy! I have a near-perfect Muno (the red cyclops) and I'm almost done with all the components for Plex (the yellow robot). Thankfully, my partner found me an edible image of Brobee at an old cake deco store I used to hit up in Ozone Park. There was no way I would have been able to get there before they closed with work, and ordering it online wouldn't guarantee it would get here on time. He was also able to get me the supplies I needed for this cake. I can't express how much stress is off my shoulders knowing I wouldn't have to trek all over the city to over-pay for these things.

The cake is baked and waiting to be filled and covered later. I still have to sculpt Foofa and Toodee. Plex is definitely the most detailed one, but it's easy shapes and it's just more time consuming rather than difficult.  I think Toodee may take me about an hour or so to do, but I'm hoping I'll be able to get two or three hours sleep tonight. It's going to be tight. Straight after work, I have two deliveries to make in midtown, and then one all the way uptown on 72nd street for a beer meetup. I'm eating the cost on the beer meetup order because I opened my big mouth about cupcakes, but I'll hand out some business cards. If I get one order, the cost will be covered, so no harm no foul. The only thing I can't get back is time. And I need all the time I can get tonight. I'm thinking the cake may need another layer baked. It was looking a little short when I checked it this morning. That will take a good hour to bake, and another hour to cool enough for me to handle.

That's fine because I still need to finish three of the Yo Gabba Gabba figures, and I know it will take me more than two hours. Fondant needs to be kneaded and warmed in order for it to be pliable. That takes a good half hour to achieve the right consistency for a pound of fondant. If it dries out and gets hard again while I'm working on the figures, the process starts all over again.

Besides a bad shoulder ache and a little fatigue, my wrists and hands are killing me. The kneading, rolling, and kneading took their toll on my old-lady tools. That happens a lot now; my hands cramping up. That's a total nightmare for a cake decorator. Those are my tools. When my hands are shaking and aching, my work suffers. I've got my wrists bandaged up with some smelly Bengay doing it's warm-goodness inside wraps. Sure, I smell like an old lady but if it means I can frost my cake later with minimal pain- I'll walk around smelling like an old lady!

I'll have pictures up tomorrow. Like I said, I'm really happy with the way Muno came out. Even though they are fairly easy characters to try to duplicate, I've found that simple cartoon-like characters are not easy for me. I can't draw. That means I can't sculpt. What I learned I CAN do is replicate shapes. I realized that was my method to use while I was watching Southpark one night. Southpark is nothing but shapes cut out and layered to create these characters and scenery. It's simple but it works. If I can replicate the shape, if I take my time with the details, I can come pretty close to the original.

I was in a cake decorating store once with an artist. He was flipping through a cartoon cake decorating book. One cake was of Daffy Duck's head with an awesome expression on his face of being caught by surprise. As he flipped through, this artist said, "You can probably do that, right? It looks easy enough."

Immediately, I knew I couldn't. "I can't. I can't get the proportions right. I can't get the ratio perfect. It will resemble Daffy, but it won't ever be as perfect as that picture, and I know where my limits are. It sucks. I wish I could replicate characters like that."

Here's the thing; when you try to replicate a very famous cartoon character or ANY cartoon character for that matter, you need to remember they are drawn a certain way deliberately and are famous because of it. If you can't get it exactly right, then it's skewed and it makes your work look amateur and kinda off.

Look:

Pretty decent rendering.

Ratios and proportions are off.

 

Ratios and proportions WAY off.

By the way, none of these are my cakes. I just put them up there to demonstrate my point. If I can't get it as close to the original as possible, then I don't want to do it. Maybe I'm being too anal about it, but I truly believe that you shouldn't promise something you can't deliver. I always get nervous when I do these character cakes, but Sponge Bob came our pretty damn good and Foofa has been awesome. So, I guess practice makes perfect!

I'll update with pictures tomorrow. Keep your fingers crossed for me! Mine are too achy to cross. =(

Brobee Cake

My Wordpress site has finally directed a customer to me that was NOT referred there by anyone other than Google! Most of my client base has come from referrals or people who have eaten my goods and wanted my services. I've been out to dinner with people who supposedly wanted my services (cake or otherwise), but nothing had panned out to be lucrative for me or feasible for the size of my business. And these jokers ended up with me as a reluctant and angry dinner date. Hence, I was duped, and after that happened to me twice, I took my very awesome picture down from Wordpress.

Some lady emailed me a few months ago, looking for a Yo Gabba Gabba cake for her son's birthday. I sent her all the information with my set prices. She never wrote me back. This weekend, she called and asked for the cake. I stuck to my guns and didn't ease up in the price, almost hoping she would walk away because the last thing I want to do is sculpt Yo Gabba Gabba figures out of fondant. (Not that my Foofa didn't come out quite cute! Especially for a non-artist like me!)

So, she asked for Brobee as an edible image in the middle of the cake, and all the rest of them sculpted out of fondant and arranged around Brobee. Weird. I wanted to argue with her and tell her it would look better if....

Then I realized that I have a full 5-day work week at the fucking Day Job because I had to switch off so I can take next Friday off for doctor's appointments. I have several Irish Car Bomb cupcakes to drop off all over the city Thursday night, and even if I go straight home after the last delivery, it's going to be tight on time again. What's new? I'm constantly racing against time.

My energy levels still aren't back up to speed. I'm still always tired, even after I've taken the sleeping meds the doctor asked me to do on the weekends. I just feel like I'm dragging around 115 lbs of dead weight. Hopefully, after my tests next week my doctor will have some sort of solution for me. He already told me to get my ass back to the gym; even if it's for just a half hour each day. He seems to think that will get the endorphins pumping and get my energy back to where it's supposed to be. Given the fact that I fully own up to being a total lazy ass the last couple of months, I'm thinking he may be right.

So, I'm going to dust off my amateur sculpting skills and hope I can pull off the Yo Gabba Gabba bunch successfully. I already decided that the most tedious character is off the table because he's an edible image so I don't have to sculpt him. Good for me. (I still don't understand WHY she wanted it that way, but it's easier on me, so I'm not arguing.) I've already made a very successful Foofa, so I know it can be done. I charged her an extra $5.00 for each figure on top of the price of the cake. I hope that was enough. Something tells me I low-balled my price again, because she didn't even bat an eyelash when I gave her the total. Poop. >=/

As much bitching as I do about these cakes and my lack of allotted time, I have to admit that I'm loving it when I'm in the thick of it. It makes me sad and embarrassed when these parents are asking me for these cartoons and I have little to no idea what they're talking about. My children's cake research is done by Google, and I feel even worse when my peers with children laugh at my ignorance.

I don't have kids. I don't watch Nickelodeon anymore. I have no idea what's going on in the cartoon world, save for some South Park or Futurama episodes that happen to keep me company during my nightly bouts of insomnia. I know I'm out of the loop, and I won't be part of that world anytime soon. My mom stopped bugging me about marriage and kids. Now, she just pushes me to pump the business. Get my finances straight. Incorporate for real. Get my license. Get my food servers certification. Get my business legit. Lease a car. Look for an affordable space to open up a small store.

I don't need to be married to be happy, she tells me. Motherhood held her back, she admitted over drinks this past weekend. Not that she regrets having us; she just knows she could have gone farther if she was more careful. I told her she should have just had an abortion. No hard feelings. I meant it. Look at her now; 50 years old, horrible husband, horrible bitch of a daughter (the middle child), and then my brother and I. Not exactly material for brag books, you know?

Part of me was glad she isn't holding her breath waiting for a big white wedding. I saw her sadness when we walked through David's Bridal to get to the golf store the other day. We joked about the gaudy gowns, but I could see of the flash of sorrow on her face that we wouldn't ever be doing the mother/daughter dress buying thing. It's just not in the cards for me, and everyday I'm becoming more and more okay with that. (Is that proper English?) More okay. Hmm.

She doesn't push for the grandkids, either. I mean, what kind of family would we be bringing these babies into? A shitty one. My mom would be an awesome grandma, but I would love for her to just live her life and enjoy it without thinking about anyone else but herself. That's something that she had to stop doing at age 17 when she got knocked up with me. I feel so sad for my mom.

I feel sad for me, too, but more angry that I've wasted so much time daydreaming. Some women were made to breed, some women were made to serve, some women were made to make money, and other women were made for adventure. I like to think I know how to make money, but I end up spending it all on the adventures.

So, I'll google more pictures, color more fondant, and hope this cake comes out as fabulous as I can manage. There's some excited 2 year old that will be waiting to tear it up! I have this sick feeling inside me that something is going to catch this year and things will move faster than they ever have before. I know big things are coming, but I just don't know from which direction. I just want to make sure I'll be ready for it when it happens.

Good Grub: Corner Bistro

After reading this article, my friend Andy and I headed out to this place before watching American Idiot a couple of weekends ago. We had originally planned on hitting up some fancy Manhattan restaurant, but we were decked out in jeans and sneakers that day, and didn't feel like getting dressed just for dinner.

We head out to this bar in the West Village. It was Sunday night, and the place was crowded. We stood in line, squished between the wall and the bar stools for about 20 minutes. Andy got us beers ($2.75 a pop!), while we waited. The menu was simple. Burger. Cheeseburger. Bistro Burger (bacon cheeseburger). Fries. That's it. Their website has a couple of other things on the menu, but it wasn't posted on the sign hanging off the wall when we went there. Just the things I listed; nothing else. We each had a Bistro Burger and a side of fries for each of us (because they are small portions) and a couple more $2.75 brews. Fantastic!

There was nothing fancy about this place at all. I'm sure there's fat and calories involved somewhere in there, but I think I can count on one hand how many actual beef burgers I've eaten in the last 6 months. This is like the kind of burger you would get out of a backyard bbq- juicy, tasty aromatic, and just plain YUMMY. At $6.50 for a bacon cheeseburger with pickles and another $2.50 for a side of fries, you can't go wrong.

It's crowded and very no-frills. The people are nice and service is super fast. You won't break the bank stopping for a bite and a brew at this place!

Corner Bistro
331 West 4th Street
New York, NY
http://cornerbistrony.com/BistroMenu.php

So Far, So Good

When you're a control freak like me, it feels so remarkably good to let go of the reins and let someone else take care of it for once. I didn't realize how much strain I was putting on myself by keeping such an ironclad grip on everything.

This weekend was a slew of Mardis Gras party orders. Luckily, I had my Friday off, but I had been baking all week for the events and hadn't slept more than a couple of hours a night. I was nodding off at work. I was cramping and aching while I was baking and decorating. By the time Friday rolled around, I thought I was going to collapse.

My plan was to bus and train it to my delivery destination in SoHo Friday afternoon. It would save me money on the cut I would have to pay my partner and it would plant me in the  city so I could pick up some art supplies for my mardis gras mask orders.

I didn't realize how terribly tired I was until I made it to the bus stop, huffing and puffing with my 5 dozen cupcakes and 10 inch cake in two large shopping bags. I sat on the Creedmore Bench (the name I unceremoniously dubbed the bus stop bench where all the neighborhood Creedmorians hung out.) I knew this would have been an ideal time to utilize my new partner and have him pick me up to make the delivery. Fuck his cut. I'd pay it twice gladly if it meant I could sit comfortably in his truck instead of having to haul ass on this damn bus. Before I could call, my bus came. Rats.

I made it all the way into the city and to my delivery point by the skin of my teeth. I set it all up, and was rewarded with a fat tip- almost as much as I  charged her for all the cake to begin with. When I asked her why she was paying me so much, she told me she researched what it would have cost her to order from a SoHo bakery, and I was significantly cheaper. She said even with the tip, she was still saving a ton of  cash. She told me to raise my prices. Thanks, lady. If I had known I was going to be tipped so much, I could have afforded the ride from my partner.

I walked down to Pearl Paint, bought a ton of stuff- maybe more than I was going to because of the extra cash I was paid, and then grabbed a slice of pizza before jumping on the E train home. I took a nap before heading out later that night to have some coffee with my girlfriends.

Although I was happy to see my friends, as I was sitting there, trying not to fall asleep it struck me that I should have stayed home and slept. I had a huge charity cupcake order early Saturday morning and I still had to finish the mask orders.

I think this is what my mom means when she says I don't handle my priorities well. I let my socializing and gallivanting get in the way of my cake responsibilities. It cuts into my time, and has me rushing and cutting corners at the last minute. And I'm almost ALWAYS late. 99 out of 100 times; I'm late. =(

I got home at 1am, and tried to sleep. I tossed most of the night, my body aching and begging me for some pain relief. I piled two heavy blankets on top of me, hoping the weight and the heat would ease the ache out of my muscles and bones. It did a little. I really didn't want to pop a pill. By 3am, I gave up, and went down to the Dungeon. It was time to make the cupcakes.

I agreed to take on this cupcake charity event before I had booked all my other Mardis Gras cake orders for that weekend. I figured times were slow and I could take my time and take nice pictures for my website. I didn't know I'd be so dog tired. By 5 am, all 50 cupcakes were baked and cooling on my bakers rack. I spent another hour making 6 different flavored buttercreams and frosting. I cleaned up the Dungeon, unloaded and re-loaded the dishwasher (my Godsend!), and went back up to my room to rest. My body was really dragging now.

At 6:30am, I called my partner and asked him to take care of this delivery for me. I didn't think I was going to make it out of bed, let alone to a church to set up this order. They were supposed to pay me for the cost of the cupcakes, a fraction of what I normally charge. He agreed and said he would be at my house by noon to pick up everything. I went to work on the masks. That was relaxing, but my hand had trouble cutting through the thick leather, and by the time it was time to paint them I noticed my hand shaking, making it hard to stay within my lines. When it was all said and done, my fingers were curled in some grotesque cramp and I could barely move my wrist at all. I iced everything down, and then smeared on the Bengay before wrapping it up in an ace bandage. Dear, lord, not my decorating hand.... =(

By noon, the cupcakes were packed and the masks were dried. Holy hell, I finished on time! My partner picked everything up and within an hour, he was back at my house to bring back my "good" shopping bags so I could use them again for future orders. (Awesome!) I have so few "good" bags left these days. He told me they were trying to give him $50 for the cupcakes, but he told him to keep it.

That irked me. I was already in a foul mood. I wasn't feeling well. I had to pay him for his time and gas, and now he just told me he didn't take the cost money they were supposed to pay me. He's known me long enough to read the look of annoyance on my face.

"Listen. I told them to consider this a good deed and a free sample. If they like what you did, then they can order again from you and you will work with their budget in order to make it profitable to sell your products at their events. It's a win-win. I gave out a whole lot of your cards. They were really happy with what you gave them. Trust me, Kat. This will pay off."

I knew he was right. I was too tired to argue back. I nodded, and handed him his money. He wasn't going to take it, but I told him to consider it gas money and I would need him to pick up supplies for me this week so that can cover that trip, as well. He agreed to that.

With my tips and influx of orders, even with the freebie I gave this church and the money I paid my partner, my week was profitable. It also let me rest the whole weekend after that order was done. My right wrist was killing me. My joints were aching terribly. I didn't know if I should break and just take an Advil, but I decided to just sleep it off. When I awoke to heavy rains Sat night, I realized my aches were just due to the weather. No worries.

On Sunday, I received a very grateful call from the woman at the Church, thanking me for the cupcakes. She wanted to mail me a check since my partner refused the cash. I reiterated what he had told her. Consider it a sample, and to keep me in mind for future orders. I would sell to them at cost. She said they raised $300 from the cupcakes which would all go towards the daycare center they ran. They sold out within an hour. That stroked my ego, and made me feel all warm and fuzzy!

Truthfully, besides the whole trust issue, I worried that taking on a partner would end up costing me more than I was making, but to be honest I've been making a good chunk of change and the ease of stress and the help has been worth the few bucks I've paid him for. Mentally, it's a blessing to have someone to bounce ideas off of, and to have some real help. I couldn't tell you how many times I've wanted to throw in the towel because I couldn't physically keep up with everything I needed to do to get some of these orders done. Most of all, it's just nice to not feel so alone in the middle of this chaos.

Letting go of some of the control is still going to be hard, and it will always be hard for someone like me. But, I've found the right person who will wait for me to ease into the idea of sharing the responsibilities rather than standing there, trying to yank the controller out of my hands. Baby steps....