FOCUS CAN CHANGE...

       Today, I was focused on getting in and out of that kitchen by 12:15. I was meeting a friend for SHOPPING! Women need a little shopping sometimes, and working women are especially challenged to find the time. But my friend and I were determined.
       Joey and "Crusty Old Lady" were the first staff I saw at the shelter. Joey was yang-yanging to somebody about being stretched too thin this past week. Seems some group of 300 needed a cook and HE was volunteered (for pay, but still...). "Crusty" was just herself… crusty. I still like the old gal.
       Joey and I had planned a meal over the phone last night, and it came off like clockwork (nothing like a shopping plan to put perspective in a job). Joey deep fried chicken tenders and catfish (oh, but those were good! I made a huge pot of curly macaroni (added butter, mozzarella cheese, cheddar cheese, and chopped broccoli florets. Good stuff! Then I cut up some varied and colorful melons for a fruit serving.
       That was lunch… along with sandwich buns. I didn't hear ONE complaint! Even had time to put together 12 sack lunches. The C&W music was hopping. The kitchen was HOT (deep fryer).
       Nobody did anything "special" today except for the 2-year-old stone face. She had some sort of epiphany after I gave her a little bear. Something about the bear and the idea of feeding it catsup or throwing me a kiss tickled her funny bone. She smiled large and real. That split second was the high point of 2/1-2 hours in the kitchen. Worth every minute.
       None of the other kids came to lunch before I left at 12:15.
       So today was mostly for me. Even cooks need a little time off.

THERE WAS AN OLD WOMAN…

       Last night was long. I had a nightmare around 3 a.m. when I got up to take ibuprofen for back pain. When I finally hauled my sorry self out of bed, it was after 9 a.m. and I was running late.
      Fall is here, the air is crisp, and many residents were sitting outside when I arrived at the shelter. It looked like we'd have a good group for lunch. "Crusty Old Gal" was keeping the gate and I put on my best smile for her, "What would you like for lunch?"
       I thought she'd suck up and say something nice. That is not her style. "Joey's making corned beef hash," she said vacantly.

       Because I had planned today's menu, her comment kinda put the fear of God in me… low expectations, high disappointments? Heck.

       When I entered the dining room, a man was eating at one of the tables. Joey was in the kitchen. I realize that sometimes people need to be fed "off schedule," so I didn't question the man's being there.

       Within minutes, a young woman came in the back door. Joey introduced her. Then he sent her to the dining room and provided her with a full meal. While she ate, he explained that she was his "only best friend" in the world. They grew up together. He wanted me to understand that she had a horrific childhood—brushing aside his own. This is the height of benevolence.

       Joey had already put two big aluminum pans of corned beef hash in the oven. He had some fruit cocktail in a pan, and more cans of fruit ready to add—peaches, pears… mystery-box goodies. When we talked about having a third item on the plates, we decided on biscuits. Joey put 3 dozen in the other oven. Lunch. How easy was that?

       Still, I had this feeling that my corned-beef-hash/poached egg recipe from last time needed some tweaking. So I took the hash out of the oven and put it in huge frying pans, until it had a bit of crisp here and there. Then I returned it to the aluminum pans, and used the catsup bottle to put hollows in the hash, dropping a raw egg into each hollow. Then I put the pans back in the oven… where I would watch those eggs carefully! No more rock-hard baked eggs for us!

       Crusty Lady "ordered" scrambled eggs to go with her hash, so she didn't get a baked egg… but after all was said and done, I think she might have regretted that. She did eat a hearty lunch and gave it high marks.

       Our pre-release group (as I predicted) was FIVE! A sixth fellow wandered in late, but my count was on-the-money for plates needed on the shelf at feeding time.

       There were no complaints. Our gluten-free gal is wonderfully gifted at turning up her nose (at the counter), but she most often changes her attitude after a meal. She can be helpful, cheerful, and thankful. On the whole, I like the girl a lot.

       Vegan heifer came in long enough to put the fear of God in Joey (he mentioned having to find food for her), but I never saw her. That doesn't mean she wasn't there.

       Our homeless residents numbered about 25. I know that only because I nervously count out the servings when I am putting their plates together. The fear of not having enough is always with me.

       Lady with four boys was there with ALL of her boys—the high-chair baby with a very snotty nose, and the 2-year-old announcing his arrival crying loudly. I put tradition aside and took him a Beanie Baby beaver right away. His mother didn't say anything, but I distinctly felt that she thought he should "straighten up!" without the comfort of a toy.

       You know, I'm still getting over a cold, and if that woman's baby has passed his cold to the 2-year-old, that little fellow has a sore throat today! God forbid, we should give our babies credit for their pain…

       Anyway, the poached-eggs/hash dish was a big hit. I saw empty plates going into the trash can. That's always a good sign.

       Today, I was ready for the smileless 2-year-old. I had two Beanie bunnies with floppy ears—a mommy-size one and an identical baby-size one. I pulled up a chair beside the princess. "I'm ready for you today, Girl Friend," I said, putting the mommy bunny on the table. "Mommy," I announced. She reached for it. I pulled it back. "Wait," I said.

       The child actually withdrew. Sometimes my brain films things, and I painfully watched in slow-mo as she withdrew. Then I put the bigger buggy on the table again, "Mommy."

       Before the child could respond, I put the little one in the arms of the bigger one, "Baby."

      I got a smile. It wouldn't make the Guinness book, but, Honey, it was a real smile.

       Mr. Huggy took a plate home (he's looking well).

       I hear that Brenda is doing well with the night shift.

       The little boy who was new last week is still there. Again, he caught me giving out goodies before I saw him, but thankfully I was just culling out the crier at the time. Besides, this "Very Polite Child" was late coming to lunch! He had on a pink dress shirt (his Sunday clothes), and he's such a beautiful child—especially (as was mine) in pink.

       Well… nothing to complain about. Numerous folks thanked us for the good lunch. All was quiet when I left—full tummies—long naps. Even the baby had slumped over in his high hair… Why can't I have him just long enough to comfort his cold and rock him to sleep?

IT's a SOUP Kitchen…

       Please… no groaning about the menu. I'm sick today! I've had a cold since Wednesday, the sore throat is gone, but the hang-dog is hanging on. Still, I sucked it up and went in.
       Joey had self started—he didn't even have to mop the dining room! He had put on a pot of soup, and he was making about 50 sandwiches to broil—grilled ham 'n cheese & grilled turkey 'n cheese.
       I poked at the soup and allowed as how its tomato-ness was VERY strong. I asked him what had he put in it, and he said "Just some cans of stuff, like we always do." I wasn't buying it exactly like he was telling it. With his permission I added a can of refried beans and a bit of water, but after an hour, "tomato" still ruled the pot. So I got a little spoon and gave Joey a sample.
       "What do you think?"
       His lips puckered up, his eyebrows came down, and he said, "Oooh! That's too much tomato!"
       When I asked him, he admitted that he'd used some tomato paste…
       So I took about 3 quarts of the soup out of the pot and strained it under running water. After putting the vegetables back in the pot, I added water, a few cans of harmless vegetables, and a box of broth. THEN we had soup.
       Meanwhile, Joey's sandwiches finished in the oven, and I put together some fresh fruit. There was cut-up cantaloupe in the big fridge; there were fresh grapes; we had some strawberries, and a few bananas! On top of that, we had whipped topping! It was dated August of 2010, but it looked good and it smelled good, so we declared the date to be a typo.
       ONE is minding the door today. Brenda (remember Brenda?) is working the door full-time now on the night shift. That's why I haven't seen her. She's also still volunteering in the kitchen. Mr. Huggy is filling his Sunday duties with driving folks to church again, and he's looking well. I begged off on the hug because of my cold…
      The pre-release group was small, as usual. I recall a time when that group was large, but perhaps that was in winter…
       We had about 25 in our homeless group. My 6-year-old and her parents have gone to live in a home of their own! I missed her, but it was a good miss. The 2-year-old still has no smile, but she eats well, and she said thank-you, as instructed, when I gave her a pink bear, some crayons, and a pack of gummies. Then I crossed the room where our mother of 4 sat with only 2 of her boys. The infant was in his high chair. I gave the 3-year-old a gorilla, a box of crayons, and a pack of gummies. As I crossed back toward the kitchen, a little voice called out, "I'd like some goodies, too, please."
       I looked down to see this cherubic 4-year-old staring up at me, earnestly seeking to be a part of the goodies program… "Oh! I didn't see you! Of course you can have goodies!" He was pleased with a puppy, a pack of gum, and some crayons. Need more crayons.
       We served a lot of seconds and thirds (and fourths) today! It was good to see them eat. And they were happy. It's been a long time since I thought of the group as "happy." Also, Joey discovered a member of our homeless who loves the stage as much as he does and has taken classes. He sees her as the perfect opportunity to learn more about those things. Everybody's happy.
       GED school is still on Joey's plate, and he has no intention of quitting, though he sheepishly admitted recently that he had almost fallen by the wayside. His teacher—that angelic woman who has led Joey and 5 others through the maze of "Challenged GED School"—is moving away. We can only hope that her replacement is good enough to get Joey to the finish line.
       After 2-1/2 hours, I begged off and headed for the car. A man I'd seen at lunch was in the hall. "Thanks for lunch. It was good!" he said.
       Outside, a lone pre-release woman smoked a cigarette on a bench in the shade. "Thanks for making lunch, Sweetheart. It was good!"
       So you see… it's just soup… but it's magic soup. Want some?
     

VACATION DAY

       Joey and I both got a vacation day today. I'll be honest: it was nice to not have a shelter menu on my to-do list… tho I've noted that the large cans of corned beef are stacking up in the pantry, and we might try that again with the baked eggs (not overcooked).

       I imagine my little 6-year-old girl will be gone by next week… and I SO hope she is… Joey says she's beginning to remind him of "Angry Child," and that she has mentioned wishing her family had a home of their own. I imagine that starting school has put the child in the awkward position of being the only one in her class who lives in a shelter.

       I hope Miss Lillian is cooking up a good meal for my people today—not so heavy on the bacon grease and carbs. Not holding my breath.

       Hope you had a good Sunday. Late summer is breath-taking here this year, as the cicadas finish their symphonies, the hummingbirds feast before their flight, and my one long-legged rabbit lopes by the patio each evening as if I've put something special out there for him. Bright golden toadstools have popped up in the yard—a first. There's always something new going on just beyond my door, and far too much to fit into such a short life.

WIN SOME—LOSE SOME

       I think today's efforts were, for the most part, a bust.
       The planned menu was apple/carrot/raisin salad, deep-fried chicken patties on buns, and fruit. Joey ordered the fruit cocktail on Wednesday. When the order arrived, the fruit had been substituted with sauerkraut. We had no fruit, so we heated a can of black-eye peas.
       Joey had taken the huge electric food processor out of the high cabinet for me. He had washed it. There were five little boxes with five different slicing implements—julienne fries, slicer, dicer, grater, and mystery chopper. The machine itself is very heavy. All I had to do was figure out how to assemble it. If it isn't properly assembled, it won't work at all. That's a safety feature.
       It took about 20 minutes before I got all the pieces in their places and the "go" button cranked up the machine. I ran six, foot-long, 6-inch-circumference carrots down the bunny hole and into the container in about 60 seconds. Finished. Done. I could have fed an army in 10 minutes, but we don't have an army. It took a lot longer to clean up the equipment than to use it, but what a wonder it is. Joey and I talked about trying out the julienne fries wheel…
       Chopping the apples was drudgery, but it was required. Pretty soon, I had a huge bowl of salad. I put it in the fridge and made up 12 sack lunches.
       Along with our fresh menu, Joey had a number of leftover plates containing the sauerkraut, pork 'n beans, and a fat sausage in a bun. Personally, I was not drawn to either selection, and neither were our diners. The carrot salad was probably the least favorite, and so sadly because it had taken the most effort.
       Joey said he missed my bubbly, cheerful self. I said I didn't have a bubble to give. He said he'd give me one of his but it'd probably be gas…
       Best I could tell, the clients were a bit down today too. It is chilly and rainy, and the food—well—there was nothing to celebrate. Maybe next time.

SURPRISE! IT'S SATURDAY…

      Miss Lillian arranged her schedule so that she would work on Sunday this week and have another day off. Joey hadn't anyone to help him today, so I went in. Saturday at the shelter is not Sunday at the shelter.

       Joey had nothing planned for lunch, but there were about a dozen plates of leftovers. Naturally, I made a 5-gallon pot of soup. That's what I do when we don't have a plan. Then I lay about 25 hamburger buns face-up on huge baking sheets, covered them with grated cheese and sliced tomato, sprinkled them with oregano and dried parsley, and put them in the ovens to broil. They were simple but good. Mr. Huggy took a sack full of them home with him!

      Rewinding: when I arrived, yet another door keeper sat the post. I've met her before, but I guess she'd forgotten me. Joey came in at the same time I did, so he introduced us. "Are you the Sunday lady?" she asked. "I want you to cut up all of the honeydews, cantaloupes, and melons back there for the afternoon snack."

       I like the old gal or I might have been offended. She's my kind of acid-tongued, get 'er done, love you lots, crusty old broad. She ate two bowls of my soup and declared it to be "good!"

       Anyway, I'd barely got the soup on the stove when Mr. Huggy came in the back door, in his Saturday clothes. He was there to help! It was interesting to watch him. He asked me what I was making, and he put his shoulder into it, bringing tomatoes from the fridge and slicing them. He helped find containers for the cans of fruit I opened. He even opened a few cans himself—his first. I had to laugh because until I explained the simplicity of our $400 can opener, he wasn't having much luck with it.

       He also put great effort into cutting up a bunch of melons. The enormous watermelon, however, had frozen, and we had to ditch it.

       So lunch was an easy fix, albeit an enormous amount of food. We were ready to serve up 40 plates. The pre-release came in—a bit fewer than their usual small group—maybe 5 or 6. Joey spent a lot of time fretting over what we might feed the lady with the wheat allergy (who still eats pasta salad, quiche, and pizza…). I told him to let it go, but I assume he made a special plate for her. Heaven knows I'm not falling for her special needs again.

       Joey also expended much energy fretting over vegan-heifer's lunch. The veeg didn't show, so that too was much ado about nothing.

       To my great disappointment, our homeless crowd was only about a dozen people! We had food coming out of our ears. I can just hear Miss Lillian's consternation when she sees all that leftover food. I encouraged Joey to serve it up for dinner tonight—after all, for most of the folks it would not be a repeat. Sadly, of the children, only the 2-year-old girl came to lunch. I took 2 Beanie Babies out to the dining room and sat beside her—that same little expressionless face looking back at me. "Would you like a bear… or a puppy?" I asked.

       She reached for the puppy and tucked it under her left arm. Then she continued eating her fruit. I asked for a smile, but she just looked at me blankly. If only you could see her.

       So that's Saturday lunch at the shelter. There was much more interaction between those of us in the kitchen than with those in the dining room. We had a happy morning, if somewhat wasteful, but I missed my people.

SUNSHINE AND RAINING CHILDREN

       One lone pre-release sat outside when I drove in this morning. His head was low, and it surely appeared that he was feeling down. It was that "older gentleman," the big guy with white hair. I called to him, "Would you like to help?" He would.

       We gathered up my four heavy bags and took them to the kitchen. Joey had just arrived, and the kitchen was still "cold"—no radio—the steel curtain into the dining room still closed. I had cooked the pasta from five boxes of Betty Crocker's Suddenly Salad, and was planning to cook more from the kitchen pantry and to add the mayo and flavor packets there at the shelter. That dish took the biggest bowl we had, and there was enough pasta salad for 40-some plates.

       Along with that I had taken a lot of colorful vegetables (tomato, yellow squash, cucumber, carrot, zucchini, black and green olives). Joey and I rolled up slices of ham, turkey, and cheese with toothpicks and olives for the entrée. I sprinkled croutons on the pasta salad, and those plates were so pretty. Too, we had some donated chicken wings which saved the day when the pasta ran low. Lunch was a happy time.

       There was also time enough for me to make 42 sandwiches toward the sack lunches. Brenda came in just as the serving of lunch ended—that girl has figured out the timing! She was all smiles, and chatty. Gosh, you don't supposed she was initially as intimidated by me as I was by her? Hmm.

       She has taken the paid position of GATE KEEPER, starting soon. She's such a reticent little thing—I can't imagine her tossing somebody out for drinking a beer… and that does happen. Still, I hope she does well with the position; she's excited about it. She'll continue volunteering in the kitchen, but will move that to another day.

       Mr. Huggy arrived dressed to the nines. He claims he doesn't feel well, but he looks a lot better than last week! Said his medication was too strong, so that's getting better now. I filled a take-out box for him.

       We had children today! The lady with the lap baby, 2-, 4-, and 5-year-olds was there with her whole crew. The 2-year-old and her mommy were there, and my 6-year-old was there with her parents. We had Beanie Babies to give out all around. I've never seen children so excited. I began the handing out with the 4 siblings, and their delight must have infected the others. Before long, all the children came to the serving counter to shout, "Thank you!"

       You have to be there to get the whole scene, beginning with the 5-year-old. I reached into my bag, "Do you have a frog?" I asked. "No!" he said excitedly. He loved it. Then I reached in again and came up with a spotted puppy for the 4-year-old. He was thrilled. Then I approached the 2-year-old, assuming he might not understand the little cow I had for him. "It's a cow," I said. "What does the cow say?"

       He grabbed it with both tiny fists and held it out, "MOO!"

       Well… forgive me if I take such pleasure in the children—but their joy is so genuine. The downside is that their pain is neither hidden. The 2-year-old girl still has not smiled. Today's her birthday and her mother was full of smiles, but the child… oh, sigh. At least the 6-year-old sang the birthday song to her… over and over.

       Several adults came to the counter to say thanks as well. They enjoyed their meal—and I personally had thought of it as rather bland, though pretty. Maybe it is all in the presentation…

       Vegan-heifer turned up her nose at the food, but took a plate anyway, asking for chicken wings as well. I knew she was giving those to her boy friend, but the meanie in me said, "But you're a vegetarian…"

       The lady who's allergic to wheat was offered a specially prepared wheat-free plate but declined, rolling her eyes as if she were doing us a favor, saying, "I'll try the pasta."

       There's a new fellow among the homeless—young man, well spoken. Says he's a chef and that lunch impressed him. If we ever need any help in the kitchen, he's available… he has ideas for menus, but we just don't have calamari…

       Oh, and that huge pot of fresh squash that was cooking when I left last week? It was cooked perfectly, and they ran out!

       When I left today, Joey had all the high chairs and booster seats out on the back porch, scrubbing them down. They needed it! We put our heads together long enough to figure out next week's menu: Spanish rice, fried chicken strips with tomato/lettuce on buns, and apple/carrot/raisin salad. Joey thought of that. I'll be making it on Saturday. Remind me to get some BABY FOOD!