A Blurb

One of my favorite quotes of all time is:

"The only constant is change." Heraclitus

I remind myself often that life is made up of changes: spiritual, little, profound, cosmic, perennial, temporary, permament, joyful,  cataclysmic, senseless, physical and minute. Actually, change reminds ME that it is constant in my life...and how I handle change is what is critical to my nature.

I wish I was a serene woman...who lets change ebb and flow in her life with barely a ripple impacting the surface tension of the current.  But I am not such a woman. 

I can stand face-first...resisting change...resisting the relentless force that reshapes...resisting my natural reactions.  I can bend and sway in the torrents...grabbing a breathe here and there...gripping with my soul at the bedrock beneath my feet.  I can turn my back to change...leaning against the flow...always looking back...a tiresome task indeed.  I can "go with the flow"...as irksome as that wishy-washy thought can be...and unproductive by its definition. 

Or I can study the currents of change and embrace them as the life force that they are...for it is by where I choose to stand in the river that the rushing force of change can give me "lift" by sweeping by one side of me faster than the other side.  The slower side has eddys of rest and breath and time.

I can control the impact change has in my life...by embracing "the only constant is change."

Numb Butts, Unitards, and Being on the Wrong Side of 35…a Restaurant Review.

Now that I have your brain spinning trying to figure out the commonality between those 3 diverse concepts…let me give you a clue…the new “The Inn” restaurant in Downtown Minneapolis.

Weather usually doesn’t affect my choice of a restaurant ….but the relentless frigid temps in Minnesota turn even the hardiest northlander  into a snow bunny coward…so a friend and I changed our reservation from Heartland in St Paul to the across the street convenience of the newly opened The Inn in Minneapolis.  Jack Frost conditions made the Inn seem warm and cozy…but I am finding my thoughts frozen regarding the experience.

I hurtled ice mounds and scuttled for the door…very appreciative of the warmth preserving double entry…and came into an intimate brick walled room that I fondly remember as “Le Peep” from years ago, then Hell’s Kitchen, and just recently as “Subo.”  It was half-full except at the bar…but I like to sit at the bar to get more of the “flavor” of a new restaurant.  Plus, at The Inn, you either sit at tables in the frozen street window section or perch at tall tables (hence the butt and leg numbing as the too tall stools cut off all circulation) opposite the bar…neither of which looked like good options that night.  (Actually, there is a small bland back room…but the people watching is MUCH better out front!)

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My friend and I had already solicited opinions from friends who had already tried the Inn…both raved about the food….though one did defer that the portions were smaller.  But I am fine with smaller….that means I can try more plates and not feel guilty or over full!  A win/win situation!  (I do avoid going back to restaurants that serve MINISCULE portions….i.e. Piccolo.  But I adore The Sample Room!)

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So back to the review:

The menu is small…but covers some unusual ground…just not sure about meeting expectations.  Sigh.

We chose the fresh baked cloverleaf roll with butter and marmalade as one of our starters.  The roll had a joyous yeasty sweetness when I pulled it apart…heaven to the nose!  Memories came flooding back of my Grandmother Ruth’s kitchen when she was baking bread….the alluring tangy scent of yeast baking was discernable from 30 feet outside the house and caused a ravenous horde of children to noisily crowd in looking for “just a sample, Grandma!” Rather a novel appetizer…very appealing to this farm-grounded foodie.  Until………

The marmalade was…colorful at best…and at the worst….runny.  Such a disappointment…we both tried to get it stay on the roll…but I felt more like I was eating that bizarre preserved fruit from fruitcakes.

The second plate was a default…we wanted the fromage on the menu…but it was “no longer in the kitchen.”  Hmmmm.  Did it leave with the fork and the spoon?

So we had the alternative cheese option.  Spanish Mahon grilled cheese mini triangles presented with a sweet/sour dark cherry dry confit and a tousled pile of assorted greens with a glisten of tangy dressing.  A pure winner in my book…each a single bite of melty, buttery goodness off-set by the fruity tang of the confit and the pleasant bitterness of the greens.

I also selected the roasted brussel sprouts…winner, winner, chicken dinner!  Pan roasted in olive oil until darkened and sweet alongside toasted pine nuts and, I believe, green onion.  Didn’t really pause to sort it out…it was THAT good!  (Would have ranked a perfect…except it was weirdly served lukewarm.)

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Now to end the suspense on the second word…unitard.  Remember I said the people watching was best where we were sitting?  At the table directly behind us, sat a bearded gentleman (?) in a full one piece Spandex biking unitard!!!  Including the attached hood…which he kept UP during the entire time!  His dinner companion was Bunyon-esque…flannel shirt, bib overalls, knit cap, and waffle soled hiking boots. 

Only in Minnesota. 

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My entrée was the grass fed beef rib eye with Roquefort butter.  I ordered medium rare…it arrived medium…no pink.  The Roquefort butter was butter with a few salty blue cheese (note the distinction) crumbles stirred in…okay flavor…but not the creamy mélange it could have been.  A poor partner to a decent rib eye. 

My friend had the grass fed beef burger without the bun…too many carbs already…but with Swiss cheese melted on top.  There weren’t too many “ummms” on her part…but we both cleaned our plates.  (More due to fortifying ourselves against the slicing wind and painful temps we had to endure to get back to our cars.)

I needed a sweet ending to an otherwise so-so meal…thank heavens the chefs at “The Inn” bow to the superior dessert skill of Michelle Gayer of “The Salty Tart.” (She is a 2010 James Beard Foundation awards "Outstanding Pastry Chef" nominee.) With an eye towards the calories already consumed…we decided to share her decadent “Sticky Toffee Pudding.”  Succulent and warm, the moist crumbs barely held together by a decidedly smooth, well browned toffee sauce with a surprising crunch of sea salt ribboned into it.  Add a smooth scoop of rich vanilla ice cream spreading like river of melted velvet lapping the cake…I am certain I heard harps playing!!   We took forks to this indulgence…slowly at first…and then with avid attention to achieving both toffee and ice cream in each bite. 

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Lastly….being the wrong side of 35.  The majority of the wait staff…including the craftsmen behind the bar…cannot be more than 30.  It shows in their interaction with their clients…and in their over-heard conversations amongst themselves.  We, being in the non-under 35 group…had to initiate conversations regarding the menu…actually saying “Excuse me.  Excuse me,” more often that we should.  But the scantily dressed girls seated to our left received copious amounts of attention from all the servers and the 2 chefs back in the kitchen…DESPITE their miserly shared drinks (really?), single shared appetiser and then another shared drink.  We, on the other hand, were well past the $100 mark …well dressed and recognized by more than one fellow diner…wanting to connect with the restaurant.  But the kicker was when a young man (who all the servers obviously knew…given their greetings) came in and sat to our right.  The open-to-all discussion centered around another professional at the Graves…actually at Craftsman…who was only mixing “popsicle drinks”…and really wasn’t that great…for a full 5 minutes.  Lovely….trashing another professional…within range of all.  Shabby.

I have debated writing this review for several weeks…trying to explain away the inconsistancies…citing the weather…wanting to give The Inn a heartfelt “Yah!”  But, truthfully, I cannot.  Not when there are chefs like Jack at the Dakota, Vincent at Vincent’s and Isaac at 112 Eatery…not when there are friendly waitpersons like those at Mission, Barrio and the Local…

"As dreams are made on"

(Thanks to Shakespeare for the title and thought behind this rambling today.)

As I have related before, I am now masked during sleep...well, one might argue for me being "masked" during my awake hours too...but that is best left for another day.

The Dr. I work with keeps promising me that with my magical air mask...I will sleep better and dream better.  I will be rested and restored to full function the next morning just by strapping on the silicon monster each and every night.  Hah.  That I will become soooo comfortable with the "Mask" that I will be able to get up in the middle of the night, unhook the tubing from the machine, leaving my mask on, and go let my pupper out. (And since he is middle aged...going outside every 5 or 6 hours is good!) Hah. Hah. Claustrophobia...I now understand. I cannot even get through a full night without awakening to my mask breathing merrily on the pillow next to me. Yup.  I am holding the mask in my hand...all intact and buckled...with the machine now breathing for my pillow. 

(And when I related this information to the Dr, she thought perhaps another strap would due the trick.  Only if homicide is now classified as a "trick!" )

So I am having very odd dreams due to this half breathing, half gasping sleep I am now experiencing.  For the first 3 days of the New Year...I was dreaming of a bucolic little farm with goats....and I was making cheese.  Really.  I mean, I get my obsession with cheese...if you know me...you have heard me wax poetic about fromage.  The local cheese mongers know me by name...and they know their till will be wealthier when I walk out their door.  So I get the cheese part of my dream...but the goat and farm aspect?  Not so much.  Farms are hard dirty work...add livestock to the equation and you just put shackles on your life, in addition to the hard work.  I didn't want to dream after 3 nights of goats!

So I tried reading just before I attempted to sleep with my "Zorro!"  A mystery.  So then I dreamed of a murder...that happens...on a goat farm!  Argh!  And the spunky heroine seems to be me with an acquired southern accent.  (Thanks to my co-worker Jules who drawls all day long!) 

The next night I read the new Rick Riordan "Heroes."  All about Roman and Greek gods and goddesses...the whole pantheon....complete with fauns and satyrs...GOATS!  So now, my dreams had talking goats that walked on 2 legs!

So last night I grabbed a guaranteed snoozer of a book...The Illustrated Guide to Victorian Sterling Silver.  I was safe...no goats...no cheese. 

Aaaaaarrrrrrrgggggghhhhh!

Did you know that the wealthy Victorians had GOATS harnessed to little chariots for their children to ride around in?  And that there were actually sterling silver bells that went on the small harnesses?  Or that the Victorians (I am beginning to dislike these people!) had sterling silver utensils made just to serve and eat certain types of cheeses?  A Stilton scoop, anyone?

So I dreamt of goats wearing leather (hmmmm) with bells attached chasing down rolling wheels of cheese...all at the same bucolic farm.  And how they held the cheese scoops with their hooves...I don't know.

Shakespeare's line "as dreams are made on"...in my case...would be silicon contoured, CPAP infused, click buckled, breathing machine ventilated foundations that somehow inspire (curse) me to have dreams again....but just of the goaty variety!  Wonder if another strap would help?!?!

So when next you see me...just quietly pull the straw from my hair...and accept a gift of farm fresh cheese!  Oh, and watch out for the goats...they like to butt!

I am Back....Welcome to my 2011!

Today is January 1^st, 2011…which by the new calendar on my wall…gives weight to the IMPORTANCE of the date…January 1^st..  A new start…a fresh, un-besmirched page…a new leaf. 

The weird thing is I started my New Year with repeated dreams of….goats and cheese!  I understand the cheese part…I AM FIXATED on cheese!  Hard, creamy, tangy, coy, aged, fresh…you name the cheese…the odds are great that I know it.  But goats?????  Am I destined to become an artisan cheese maker?  But goats?  Milking goats?  Mucking goats?  Gah….gack!  Sheep….maybe.  Crazy, eh?

Well, first I must address the last year…2010…and my thoughts about what has passed.

Losses…they have occurred this year…in my life…in the lives of friends…in the world of humankind.  But the impact is so greatly felt in the personal sphere.  My cousin Mike, a larger than life man with a booming laugh, a quick wit, a gentle bear, the anchor of his siblings…and sad to say…I knew him only on the periphery.  I did not know him as the Renaissance man he was…  My aunt Jean, Mike’s Mom also left this year.  She was a gracious, warm woman with a throaty voice who held the threads of her family together like a weaver.  She wove strength, practicality, un-conditional love, generosity, and, in the last years profound personal sadness (from the death of my Uncle Andy and her son Kurt.) into the life fabric of her family.  My great Uncle Marvin left life on his terms this fall…swiftly with his children surrounding him.  A man of many words and stories…a man of deep faith…a proud veteran…a child of the earth…which he tended with his beloved 1952 tractor.  The last of his generation.  As the “keeper” of my family history…the obits are much more grievous now than 20 years ago…then the obits were just dry facts carved in stone…they now have human faces.

Losses…friends have gone too soon…friends have lost spouses, significant others, parents and children.  I can only say my heart aches for each loss…I would like to say that it gets better…in truth…I can say it gets easier… to remember without falling apart...to put one foot in front of the other and stand upright.  “Better” is a condition that implies the world is the same…which it never is…since each loss creates a new reality.  And yes, in the new reality, there is joy, love, laughter…it is just tempered to a new edge…one that makes you feel keenly the loss.  I still “talk” to my father daily…remembered bits of conversation apply themselves to situations...spontaneous thoughts of “Dad would love this!” burst unbidden into my brain…and I can smile as I visualize his face and crooked grin. 

Toss-ups…there are many…which given my moods can be viewed as either a win or a loss. 

Toss-up:  my career.  I passionately LOVE what I do.  To create pride of ownership and desire, to connect moments in a life, to educate, to celebrate joy…that is what I do on a daily basis.  To match to each client… the right treasure…the perfect jewel… for their moments…for their reasons.  The problem is… decisions have to be made…I have enough regrets in my life…I do not want to sacrifice my avocation.

Toss-up:  I am NOT a good house keeper!  I would rather clean grease traps in diners than clean house.  So I do the minimum.  Note…no dropping by Kimberley’s!  But I will meet you anywhere with coffee and a hug!

Wins, thankfully are numerous this past year!

Win:  I had a major health scare…it started with a simple phone call on a Thursday in October.  My doctor called.  She requested an appointment…I having known her 20 years…said “tell me!’  “Kim…I am so sorry…you have cancer.”  I forgot how to breathe.  Surgery followed 5 days later…after I tried to negotiate putting it off until January…sanity had temporarily deserted me.  Thankfully, I have good friends and a loving family that held me up and sent prayers to God.  (And believe me, I was praying too!)

I woke up with my doctor next to me…I remember her smiling…it was contained and the sentinel biopsies were clear.  Thank you, God!  All checkups since have been good… a true win.

Win:  hand in hand with the above…I was diagnosed with severe sleep apnea.  Apparently during surgery…they had a hard time keeping me breathing.  The “sleep” doctor met with me in the hospital…and in no uncertain terms told me exactly how my life expectancy was decreasing each day.  With my weird sense of humor…all I thought was “Funny…isn’t that expected?  Life is terminal.”  He wasn’t amused. So now I am masked like Zorro!

Win:  I have started blogging.  Well…better late than…later.  It is random…often sporadic (can they be used together?)…semi foodie…but as I see it.  I am at Blogspot.com … http://open-faced-sandwich.blogspot.com  come visit once in a while! If curious to see my thoughts…follow me. 

Win:  (at least I think so).  Relationships…lack of or otherwise.  Some days yes…some days…no.  Those who have known me since college…you were all witness to the devastation of my ended relationship with Andrew.  And the years that followed were shackled by doubts as to “what happened” and “what did I do wrong?”  So, I protected myself with a siege wall…that I never let any one through.  Well, God smacked me upside the head this year!  And His tool was…wait for it…the INTERNET!  I had been aware for some time that a person with a weird email had been searching for me and my postings…so I back-trailed.  It was Andrew.  And from his posting…I realized that I had very little to do with how the relationship ended or even why it ended.  Enough said.  So yes…relationships are possible…but not the only thing to be desired.  So…hopefully you can see the humor in the following blog:

“Attracting the Wrong Attention....Again.

I don't often laze in the swing...however, sun was inducing somnolence...waiting for city water guy...when I realized I was being watched. Cute dark eyes (intent), silver gray hair (a bit messy), and conservatively dressed, plus moving well under his own power.  Hmmmm. The possibilities...

If only it wasn't a SQUIRREL! He was under my apple tree checking out the windfalls, running his little paws over each one searching for the PERFECT apple to squirrel away! (No chance I'd miss that one!) Apparently I was in his territory...and his scolding chatter was deafening!    "Leave! Leave!", "MINE!  ALL MINE!", "First here! I get!", and "Go Away!  I need ALL!"

Oh, well...at least he's a better possibility than the guy in the aisle at Byerly's.”

And that’s the truth of my life...humor.  A gift from God…to be found in the “dailies” of life…it can be cynical…subtle…dry…spontaneous…mercurial…quiet…bubbling…”in your face”…random. 

May the year of 2011 bring you joy and humor.  May there be joy amongst the tears…and humor God-gifted to you daily.



Kimberley