Work

Kayla is up north with her dad's family this week. She texted me that she was "crowned employee of the month!!!" at the nursing home. Anna started waiting tables at Byerly's, which is proving to be an excellent job for her. She's also been refinishing a lovely bedroom set generously donated by her great grandparents, so she's keeping busy. Next week, Kayla heads back to Henn. Tech and Anna to Normandale.

"I was so much older then, I'm younger than that now." -Bob Dylan, My Back Pages

 

Two nights ago, the club hosted this fundraiser. Jake said he wouldn't be on the news, so we didn't tape it and I had to resort to rewinding and photographing the tv. But there he is, with his sous chef, moving their cars to accommodate the event. At this moment, they were saying to each other that this had better not be on the news.

It's been a crazy busy summer for Jake at the club. Writing a monthly article for the club newspaper is just one of the multitude of things that he does. I think his summer articles are particularly rich and well-written, so I asked if I could post them here. He agreed, but wanted to include the disclaimer that he embellished a detail here and there to make for a better read. So, this is Jake's June article (I'll post the others later):

 

Excerpts from the mind and memory of a chef (installation #1):

As a 9 to 13 year old, my brothers and I would spend a few weeks in the summer with my paternal grandparents in northern California.  My grandpa was a part-time custodian at his church, a part-time swimming pool salesman and a full-time walnut orchard owner.  Grandma worked part-time for my uncle in his dental practice doing the filing and appointments.  Their ten acres of trees were surrounded by an irrigation ditch covered in wild blackberry brambles.  Morning sojourns to collect the berries resulted in poor yields.  We would eat more than we would save.  We’d return with black syrupy juice dried all over our faces and shirts.  Mollie, their golden retriever, would go to the end of the long drive to get the Sacramento Bee.  She’d slobber all over the paper, but she always got a treat.  Our next chore was to go to the chicken coop to pluck any eggs the hens may have laid over night.  We would usually be rewarded with four or five (except for a five day dry spell when the hens wouldn’t lay because a black widow spider decided the coop was a great place to hang her web.  Grandpa found her and took care of her with two 2x4’s).  We’d have a quick breakfast and then get on with our day.  We’d hop on the tractor with Grandpa while he disked the soil into dykes to ready the orchard for irrigation.  Irrigation would be a day long process starting with opening the irrigation valves and flooding the north sector.  Two hours later with shovels in hand, we’d break the dykes and allow the water to flow into the next section and so on until the last section was flooded.  Each time an area was emptied, we’d go and collect the crawfish that lay exposed and run them up to the house.  Freshwater crawfish aren’t too bad when you catch them yourself.

Some days we’d go across the street and get kiwis from the orchard there.  Other days we’d skip over a couple of lots and get peaches.  We never, ever went to the store to buy produce.  Grandma and Grandpa always knew and traded with someone.  Walnuts for honeydew, blackberries for corn, eggs for peaches.  We’d visit our cousins in Yuba City and stop at road side stands for other fruits and vegetables.  We rode in the bed of Grandpa’s Chevy pick-up past a tomato distribution center where semi trucks full of tomatoes would endlessly enter, dropping tomatoes on the road.  The pavement was always stained red and the bees were thick.  Past that were the almond and pecan orchards, followed by the peaches and nectarines.  I was always impressed at the linear nature of the orchards.  When we’d whip by them quickly (Grandpa always drove fast) the passing rows created a hypnotic pattern if you positioned yourself just right.  I was always amazed with the growing of food there.

Food is important.  Food creates memories.  Kids remember food, they remember where they were, what they ate, how it tasted, who was there when they ate.  As adults, we share meals with friends and family.  We invite them to our homes; we meet them at restaurants and converse over food and wine.  These gatherings are important, especially today.  Everyday can be a memory and so often it revolves around food.  Lafayette Club is a great place for these memories to happen.  We as staff are fortunate to be a part of this process.

See you at the Club,



Jake