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Meet Me At, Uh...Yourself!

It was hot.

It was crowded. 

Long lines for everything. 

I took a look around. 

I left. 




OH! But I did manager to snap a photo:

It was on the side of a food truck. Yay!

Cheers!


Metal Influence:

COCK AND BALL TORTURE

Further tale of day job woes

A word of caution and advice!:

Do not publicize you getting a new job via social media before you have signed all the proper paper work, passed every background check and have actually completed a full shift. Trust me here.

I wont bore you with the "I've been without a day job since February" bit again so I'll just jump into it.

A local beverage company was looking for someone to make the rounds across Tucson and clean the beer lines for various bars, restaurants and so forth on their roster. I applied. Sounds easy enough. Sort of up my alley as far as being a food writer goes and that I have bartended before. I have a great car and flexible schedule. Lets do it!

A few weeks after my application I get a call from them to come in and interview. On that day I put on a nice shirt, actual long adult pants and clean shoes. I arrived a few minutes before my call time, as you should always do, read one of the magazines about the company and the newest lines of beers and wines and so forth before the guy interviewing me came and got me from the front lobby.

It seemed pretty casual. The guys were just hard working, beer toting dudes and it was the first time I heard 'shit' and 'fuck' during an interview. Everything went well. So much in fact that they wanted me to come back for a second interview to meet with the department head, who was out of town for a meeting.

So when I went back for the second interview, again dressed nicely and all adult like, I was pleased to find that I was "hired" and that they just wanted to be sure the department head liked me and that I actually wanted the job. He did and I did.

The only steps I had to take was a background check and drug test. No problem.

I've never been arrested. Heck I haven't had a violation since that one speeding ticket I got almost ten years ago when I was running late for my closing shift at this restaurant I was managing. And drugs? Yeah, no. Long gone are those days. The intense edible the wife and I ate, then gave back because of its insane potency, had passed through my system years ago. So I was confident because I knew I was good to go.

That's when I went home and announced via Facebook that I had a new day job and it was a pretty cool one at that. I got a bunch of 'likes' and congrats in the comment section. Finally my non-day job reign of terror was over. Yipee!

Having done and undergone background checks before I knew that it only took a few hours or maybe a day. So when the company didn't call me back I got worried. Did some red flag pop up on my background? Was I secretly in some type of trouble. Did that time I got popped by police in Salinas, CA when I was 16 for skateboarding on protected property show up? Oh no! So I called and left a message regarding the status of my check.

The next day one of the guys calls back saying I'm good to go. The next step was to stop by the office, fill out some paper work and get my drug test done. So I drove down to the office, met with the head of human resources, filled out all the paperwork before her telling me locations as to where I can get my drug test done. One was actually close, like maybe a mile down the road, so I opted for that one.

When I arrived I was kind of put off by the location and look of the place. It resembled some type of converted methadone clinic and the people in the lobby looked like they needed methadone. Before I even filled out any paperwork there my anxiety was kicking in. I have what some refer to as 'white coat fever', or innate discomfort around doctors and hospitals. Now, when my wife was admitted to hospital in January I squashed that fear because she is far more important to me than my own well being. So I showed up everyday ready to see her and make her as comfortable as possible. But when the subject switches to me for examination, I get dizzy and nervous.

As I sat in the lobby of eternal sadness, I could feel, and hear, my heart racing. I just wanted to get this done. Pee in a cup and get out!

A nurse called my name, so I stood up and followed her into the annals of the clinic. Just like clockwork, boom, she asked me to step into a lavatory and pee up to a line in a clear plastic cup. Luckily I had been drinking a lot of water, knowing I had to do this. I hit the line then released the rest into the toilet. And kept going. And going. Whew...I do drink a lot of water but this felt like some kind of anxiety pee. Anxie-pee. We'll stop there.

Thinking that I was done, the nurse then lead me further down the hall. She had me stand against a wall and do an eye chart read. Oh...kay. So I did, read what I could and that should be that. Right?

No.

Then I was lead further into the clinic and placed inside a room. Wait. What? What's going on here? All I wanna do is clean beer lines for a few bucks an hour. I should be done by now, on my way home where I was going to pick up a sandwich from this deli I spotted. This is weird.

Eventually another nurse entered the room. This one was older, a bit weathered and obviously gay. Her no nonsense flattop gave that away. Sorry...but, yeah. She then told me I was going to do a full physical.

What?

A full physical? To clean beer lines? This is...c'mon. This is nuts.

It was here that my anxiety hit full throttle. I was panicking. Erratic, blurred vision, all of that. In fact I almost walked out. If they want a full physical they can have me go to my doctor and have it done correct...and with me being somewhat more calm.

The nurse had me do squats, leg lifts, all of that. Then, and here is where I should have walked out, she asked me to drop my pants.

Oh, uh huh. Why? Why do I have to drop my pants? Are you looking for drugs? Or do you just want a gander of the goods that you, obviously, have no interest in whatsoever. But I was numb. Speechless. So I did what she asked and then, boink, before I knew it she was digging around down there.

That's when I backed away and said, "I'm sorry...what is this? I..."

Before I could finish, the nurse got up, slipped off her gloves and said she would be right back. Thinking that was it I hoisted my shorts back up and was preparing to get out as fast as I could. Before I could make my move, the nurse returned. With another nurse. But this was no ordinary nurse. He was a big fella and stood by the door with his arms crossed, looking at me with reserve.

It then dawned on me: this is the kind of drug creff clinic where they have to deal with all sorts of problematic clientele. Maybe my erratic behavior could indicate that I was capable of lashing out in some way. Holy crap! How bad do I want this job? At that point it was either just get it over with or cause a scene. And if I caused a scene that would just make matters far worse for me. So I stood there and waited for my next instruction.

"Please. Pull your shorts just above your knees."

Jeeze! So with a heavy huff I did so. She poked around, asked me to cough and then was done. She looked at the big male nurse with a nod and he took off. I pulled my shorts back up and was in near tears. The nurse looked totally put off by me. But I didn't care. I just wanted a fun day job to break me away from the laptop and smallness of our home a few hours a week. This was an embarrassment. This had gone too far.

The nurse then asked me to lay down on a "bed" with that butcher paper on it and "relax". She then told me she'd be back in 20 MINUTES! 

20 minutes? How am I supposed to relax in 20 minutes? I'm just going to lay there and continue to freak out. Once again, when she turned off the lights and left, the urge to flee washed over me. Hard.

As I lay there in that musty clinic room, hearing the voices pass in the hall, all I could think about is how my life got to this point. Here I am, a 48 year old struggling writer that just needs to make a couple of bucks extra and take some of the financial burden of off his wife, who does nothing but work. As I tried to 'relax' all I could do was hear my heart thump-thump in my chest. I knew what was coming next and I knew it would not be good.

After a bit a different nurse returned with, just as I guessed, a blood pressure gauge. That's when I began to sweat. My whole life I have had to deal with high blood pressure. I eat as healthy and as low sodium as I can. I take supplements to keep it down. I get good sleep. I am not that stressed out. I listen to calming symphony music when I write or read. It's still higher than normal but, again, something that my doctor is well aware of and could address with the company.

The nurse wrapped that velcro arm band around me and began to pump the squeezy thing. I could feel the tourniquet tighten around my upper right arm. To such a level that I actually said "Ow" at one point. When it was at its most painful is when she laid the stethoscope on me and took my pulse, which was racing. Eventually she released the pressure, ripped off the band, took down some notes and took off.

So I sat up and waited to hear about the bad news.

Lesbian nurse returned with blood pressure nurse and both of them looked distraught.

"Uh," said lesbian nurse. "You're blood pressure is high. Like very high."

"No surprise," I said. "I do have high blood pressure but I am also having a bit of a panic attack."

The nurses looked confused.

"Did you have anything to drink last night?"

"Yeah. Couple of cocktails. Maybe three or four."

Nurses looked distraught again.

"Well drinking in excess can make you spike."

Excess? But what about me panicking right now? Can...can you bring that up?

After all was said and done, I was free to go. As I drove home I was still lightheaded and really had to concentrate on getting me there safe. Once inside the house, I immediately went and laid on the bed and texted my wife what had happened. She texted back with a "Serious? All that to clean beer lines?" That's what I said!

About an hour later one of the guys that interviewed me called.

"Yeah. Says here your blood pressure is a bit high."

"I told her that. I really wish I knew I was getting a full physical. And I wish that I could have done it through my doctor."

"It also says here that the nurse could smell alcohol on your breath."

"WHAT? That's insane! I had a couple last night but ate food, slept and brushed my teeth in the interim. There's no way that's true. C'mon."

He then said that they'll get back to me and let me know. For the rest of the day I just laid on the bed trying to block out what had happened. I felt kind of violated. And cheated. And kind of lied to. They said I had to pass a background check and drug test. There was no mention of a full physical.

Come Monday I got the news that I did not get the job. So I went back, deleted my original post about getting the gig and then having to explain to friends that I did not have the job. Which sucks.

Kinda.

A buddy that did the same job for a while said that the money and bullcrap you have to deal with and put up with wasn't worth it. And after what they put me through, I think he was right.

So that's it kids. Why I didn't get the job cleaning beer lines. As I type this I am still out of a proper day job but a hint or two have been coming my way. In the meantime, I write, I take care of my hard working wife, make sure the cat is happy, clean up and make the house a home and continue the fight for gainful employment.

Although all I that am really good at is writing. And all I wanna do is write. So I guess I'll work on that a little harder.

Cheers.

Metal Influence: 

MASTODON

"Workhorse"

Charro Rides Again!

If I'm writing about a place or a person, my goal is to never make the blog about me. Like, at all.

In this intro though...I'm gonna make it a bit about me for a sec. If you don't mind. I'll keep it brief. I promise.

This article should have been written months ago. Months. But I only just recently got to it knowing that I wanted to do my part in showcasing the amazing efforts of the Flores family, who own the series of Charro restaurants across Arizona: El Charro, Charro Steak, Charro Del Rey and now Charro Vida, which is a plant focused concept that opened up earlier this year to wide yielding success. When you see the pics I took you can easily see why this place became nearly immediately embraced. The food, as with all the other Charro spots, is inventive and delicious.

I sat with executive chef Gary Hickey about a week or two after it opened. He was so generous with providing me with at least half a dozen dishes that I could photograph and eat. This is the same guy that gave me his bike which, recently, got stolen from our yard one night. Gary is a force to be reckoned with in the Tucson culinary enclave and I am proud to call him a friend.

(here is where I gab about me for a bit)

But this year has been very hard for me. Not as bad as 2014 where my wife and I lost five family members in a matter of a few months, but more personally, and financially, problematic.

As you may or may not know, I was basically forced out of my library day job in February and have had minimal to zero success in finding another job since. Of course I still have the Tucson Weekly, and I did drive a truck for a few months for Ace Hardware, but nothing else has come through concrete. Wrestling with a chemical imbalance my whole life, there were days, weeks, where I really wasn't doing too well. I'd struggle through to turn in an article for the Weekly and then give up writing, among other things, all together after for a bit. When I'd perk up I'd blog or contribute to some writing projects that I have going on but...not really. The book I started should have been done already. I'd just sit and stare at the glowing laptop screen, type a word or two, give up and watch something on Netflix or go back to bed.

Just recently I interviewed for two jobs I thought I had in the bag but both came up negative. I can only take that as a sign as "Shut up Whittaker...and get back to writing!"

So I am done feeling sorry for myself and wallowing in self pity and now all I wanna do it chat about my friend's amazing new restaurant and the contributions they continue to proliferate in our community.

Shall we get on with it?

I say we shall...

Si Charro!

It was an absolutely beautiful early spring day when I was invited to come hang out with Gary and Charro Vida owners Ray and Carlotta Flores. The Flores' were busy with a company meeting so Gary served as sole narrator. As we sat outside enjoying the cool breeze before its quick leap into summer jet engine blast furnace, we chatted as servers brought out plate after plate of colorful still life edible performances.

"El Charro's original owner, Monica Flin, migrated to Tucson from France to help build the rose window for Saint Augustine Cathedral," Gary said. "She opened El Charro in nineteen twenty two. The name comes from farmers and ranchers from Salamanca Spain. Charro means cowboy really. Campo Charro is one of the eleven regions in Salamanca and was the inspiration for the restaurant and the food they served. Still is."

El Charro, as you already know, is famous for introducing the world to the chimichanga, which is a deep fried burrito. According to legend, Monica Flin accidentally dropped a burrito in a fryer and was about to yell out "CHINGADA!" or 'fxxk!'. Instead she stopped mid 'chi' and finished it with 'changa' which loosely translated means 'thingamajig'.

The origin of the chimichanga is still being debated today but us Tucson locals know the real truth. It was Monica Flin at the original location of El Charro.

C'mon world. You know this. 

Just a heap pile of yum

The Flores family took over El Charro in the 1970's as Carlotta is the great grand niece of Monica Flin. Since then, the Flores' have expanded their culinary empire with a steak concept (Charro Steak), a seafood spot (Charro Del Rey) right next door to it on Broadway Ave. in downtown Tucson.

Now we are lucky to have Charro Vida, a well thought out healthy option concept that starts with the essentials such as local produce and choice fats such as olive and rice bran oils along with avocado butter and take it from there. They source their proteins locally, use gluten free grains and separate their fryers, filled with trans fat free oils, to maintain a gluten free cooking environment. Their sea salt comes directly from the Sea of Cortez and use hemp in their line of Hola Hemp tamales.

"When we sat down and planned the menu, we had no idea there was an actual connection between Mediterranean and Mexican diets," Hickey explains. "We have diabetics coming in on a regular basis because they can eat foods that don't involve high fructose corn syrup, because we use stevia and agave instead. Our mole is nut free and we offer fried plantains instead of corn based chips because of certain allergies. Everything on our menu went through countless hours of approach and trial. In the end we are very proud of what we serve here."

As with the other Charro restaurants, you can taste the dedication in each bite. Clean yet very robust flavors overtake in the greatest way possible. The Ahi Tuna Stack nearly reeked of the ocean and was cut with citrus notes, spice from jalapenos and chile harrisa along with crunch from sesame seeds and plantains. The Mesquite Asparagus dish could easily turn any meat monger vegetarian for a spell. A simple notion turned complex by grilling the asparagus with lemon followed by an elderberry reduction, spiced pepitas then topped with Tucson based goat cheese.  Absolutely stunning.

Another standout was the Salmon de la Costa, a whimsy of color and olfactory sensation brimming with charred Brussels sprouts, house cured hummus, smoky paprika and a light chimichurri featuring toothsome pepitas.

All of it, so good.  

Stack it up!

The design and logo for Charro Vida was a deeply conceptualized as well. You can see it above in my banner shot at the top.

"It derived from the buttons the Charros made and wore," Gary informs. "They were these intricate buttons they wore on their jackets or as a necklace, passed down from generations. The Charro Vida logo has twelve dots and hints of hearts which mimic the rose window. In the center is the agave plant which is one of the most resilient plants out there. They survive in the desert for years, you can make clothes out of it, and best of all, tequila is derived from the agave. The whole design pays homage to Monica and Jules Flin and the jewelry worn by the Campo Charros. So there is a rich history with everything you see, and eat, here at Charro Vida."


And its exactly that well thought out pulchritude that makes the Flores family and chefs such as Gary Hickey a Tucson treasure. You aren't just eating delicious food here, you're taking in a multitude of traditions and memory, all done with care and a forward thinking, intelligent means to the cuisine. Charro Vida is the kind of joint where your fussy vegan friends can find culinary solace, along with that carnivorous lot that is hesitant to try anything "new" or "interesting" because the short ribs and carne asada here are insanely good.

As we sat and talked, while I ate and took pictures, Gary told me he is working on a dessert menu with his pastry chef.

"He made these gluten and dairy free churros that were out of this world," beams Hickey. "They are really difficult to make so we are working it all out trying to make it work. We had the daughter of a friend try one because due to several allergies she has never had a real churro. She took a bite and told us that it was the best churro she ever had. We all laughed because it was her first. Its because of people like her and moments like that makes us do what we do. Which is to make people happy."

I know I'm always happy when I'm in any of the various Charro restaurants. Charro Vida is a near revelation though. With this blog I can give you an idea what you are in store for when you visit. It's best to just get out and get in there.

You'll be happy that you did.

Slammin' salmon

A big thank you to Carlotta, Ray and Sasha Flores for continuing letting me stop by, take pics, hang out and eat your amazing food. You kids rule.

And cheers to my buddy Gary Hickey for carrying out the Flores' vision and for being a culinary badass. Sorry those stupid ass monkeys stole the bike you gave me. It was fun up till then!

Apologies to everyone for not posting this much, much earlier. Now that summer is over and the Halloween decorations are up I'm easing my way out of a months long, introspective man-baby slump. I tend to forget how fun and distracting writing is. Especially when its about good friends and good food such as this.

Oh yeah, and Charro Vida has a full bar. The house margarita is flippin' off the wall. Trust me here.

Cheers all!

Gracias!

Camera, Typing and Feeling Honored
"Metal" Mark Whittaker
As Autumn Begins, 2019

Metal Influence: 

SEPULTURA

"Roots Bloody Roots"

Sober Vegans Beware!

The annual "Bacon, Blues and Brews" festival is no place for the meager of palate or liver. This is territory stapled for those with an energy for tasty, salty cured meats, cold craft beer and the occasional sip or something stronger, malted.

To say the least, those who cling to the vegetarian, vegan or sober dictum need not purchase a ticket. There is not much for you here except a sense of dread or possible battleground for your shaming those who indulge combined with an internal struggle to partake and live life as it was meant to be lived.

Fearless. Fun. And full of near naughty possibilities.

Not to mention, the event takes place within the hanger-like confines of Brother John's BBQ, a joint so lit with smoked animal sections one would recoil with volunteered lifestyle fear when a heaping plate of the stuff arrives at your table. And if you want to keep your liver as pink as we like the center of our steaks, this is prime country to call your mortal enemy. A wall, behind a bar lined with dozens of taphandles, is a shelving unit to amber hued, golden hooch beauty - a near art installation for those that have long given up going out with a liver the color of the elephants we see after one too many.

This is the time and place to let go of the health instituted fallacies for a few hours. We have come to eat bacon, and lots of it. We have come to drink beer, and lots of it. In the backroom area of Brother John's, a bacchanalia takes hold but once a year. It is our time to indulge. Forget the minions that consider quinoa a fine breakfast option. We want pork belly. We want hearty craft brew.

This year did not disappoint. With taste offerings from local culinary heavyweights such as Fresco Pizza and Pastaria, KIngfisher, Mama Louisa's Italian, Bisbee Breakfast Club, Gourmet Girls, Noble Hops Gastropub, Dante's Fire, Mama's Hawaiian and, yes, Brother John's BBQ, our collective mouths were glistening with fatty pork recoil. We were handed a tally before entering to vote for their favorite, but seeing as I do what I do, I leave that bit to the public. It's best I relent because, in the end, I can never really figure out who the clear winner is.

Because I always figure that I am the winner. I get to eat all the foods. And drink all the beers.

Speaking of which, the mango and apricot varieties supplied by Dillinger Brewing flipped my tongue like an epileptic acrobat. Tart, punchy, sweet with a pleasant acidity to them both. Barrio had their ever famous blonde pouring away but I went back for their hazy IPA a few more times than I should have.

And you can't have a Bacon, Blues and Brews fest without an actual blues band. Local stompers and twangers Michael P and the Gullywashers provided that. Now if you know me, and read this blog, you know how much we embrace the ideology of Metal. But we do, oftentimes, tread into other musical waters. These guys were good. Really good. And if you know your Metal history, the headbangers journey began with the blues. Jimmy Page worshiped Delta blues artists, as did Iommi, Hendrix and Richie Blackmore from Deep Purple. So take heed young padawan Metalheads, and know this:

Blues is the roots, the rest is just the fruits.

The funny thing is, a day or two before Bacon, Blues and Brews, a friend that owns and operates a busy food truck supplied me with some new menu samples. One was an Asian inspired chicken sandwich featuring, that's right, pork belly. The other was a grilled cheese infused with five varietals that was also stuffed with, yep, pork belly. So by the time I got around to my third or fourth dish, I knew that I had to take it easy on the bacon front for a spell.

Maybe go vegetarian for a while. Heck, why not make it vegan?

Wait a minute. What am I saying here? Didn't I just lambast...you know...earlier, when I...

Oh man. What a hypocritical food writer I am. Crap.

Anyway, cheers to Tucson Originals for inviting me once again and thank you to all the chefs and brewers for letting me, and those who arrived, partake in your meaty and mead-y goodness.

Now to drink some water and eat a salad.

Ugh.

See you all next year...

Ya gosh darn right

Crostinis...crostinis everywhere!

Oh what the heck...sure I'll try some

If its from Fresco, you know its gonna be amazing

Bacon wrapped fig on a nettle nest of awesome

Them Gourmet Girls always come through

There's s'more where that came from

Chef Ken in pork belly repose

Chef Mikey likes it...spicy

I totally thought a drag show was about to happen, totally bummed one didn't

Camera, Typing and Going On A Cleanse
"Metal" Mark Whittaker
Day After Friday the 13th, 2019

Metal Influence: 

ANTROPOMORPHIA

"Chunks of Meat"

I'm Only Hungry When It Rains

Summer is the time for food and drink festivals here in Tucson. It's slightly slower for local businesses, especially bars and restaurants, so why not showcase their talent before the students and snowbirds return and make things across town hectic again?

Why not indeed!

And one of the best comes at summer's end with the annual Salsa, Tequila and Taco Challenge held at the La Encantada mall.

So much fun.

And yet....slightly hectic.

Check it.

They weren't kidding...really spicy

For the past two or three challenges, the good folks of SAACA, who put on the amazing annual event, have asked me to step in as one of the judges, which has always been an honor. Like every other year, I got the email inviting me with the tag line "please hit reply all" to make sure the others on the list know I am game to eat, drink and voice my opinion with pad and pen.

Well, it didn't go as easy as it could have.

What I did was just hit "reply" so only one person knew that I was ready to do my duty as judge. The others? They had no clue. So a day or two before the event I emailed the guy who sent the initial email asking about my call time, check in and all that. He kindly sent back a "Oh, the actual contacts who were CC'd didn't get your response so we had to quickly fill your spot."

Ah ha. One (hopeful) last foible on my part before summer draws to a close.

Oh...oh I will continue to make many many more mistakes such as that; its what I do. But the way this year has unfolded for me I was hoping that I could reconcile just once with a duty that would make me feel needed and slightly cool.

That I am still working on.

Let's give 'em something to taco 'bout

But let's be honest here: I have absolutely nothing to complain about.

I still got VIP press tickets, I still got to participate and I still got to eat and drink some of the best our fair city has to offer. That is within the taco, salsa and tequila realm.

Whee!

Yes chef

When I arrived a little after 6pm, the hour VIPs get in as general admission was at 7, I immediately headed to the Rigo's Restaurant table for some tequila jello shots, a shot of Arriba tequila and then to sample their traditional and guacamole salsa. What a way to start the evening!

The crowd was fairly thin at this point but up above the clouds were growing thick.

That was of no surprise as every year, tradition pending, the Salsa, Tequila and Taco Challenge gets rained on. Two years ago, as were were judging, the monsoon hit so hard that any and all tables out in the open had to be immediately moved either indoors or at least under some form of La Encantada protection of shade or walkway. But, so far, we were looking mildly dry.

Except for the beer and tequila of course. 

Signed and it delivered

At 7pm is when things really started to kick off. The passageways and courtyards of the mall began to get, well, mauled by general admission ticket holders. Let the festivities begin!

Lines began to form, the salsa band on the main stage revved up their high energy music, dancers swayed through the hungry and thirsty crowd, dogs and cats living together...mass hysteria!

Now we have a party going on.

Then...boom!

Pulled pork taco, in repose

The sky zipped open and down came heavy drops of late summer rain. But it didn't matter! Even in the slightest. People danced, people ate, people drank, not one spirit was dampened by the dampness.

We chomped down on al pastor tacos from Cafe Botanica, slurped rhubiscus margaritas from Queen Ceviche, ate guava and napolitos salsa from Crossroads Restaurant and drank beer courtesy of Four Peaks, Sierra Nevada and Dos XX. Nobody cared that it was raining. The chefs and hosts were laughing and having fun in spite of it. Kids splashed in the puddles. Heck, I even splashed in a puddle (most likely after sampling all 3 tequilas from Roger Clyne's Mexican Moonshine)!

And just as quickly as rain started, it stopped.

That's when the humidity kicked in. The glass walls and doorways of the retail shops began to fog up, including my own glasses. But then when the breeze fell over the event, we were all hit with a very unexpected cool down factor. A very welcome feeling in late summer Tucson.

And that's when things began to heat up. 

Even salsa drummers like to thrash now and then

People gathered to eat tacos and drink margaritas from Casino del Sol, Ritz Carlton at Dove Mountain, Quail Creek Country Club, Westward Look and the Lodge at Ventana Canyon.

Proof Artisanal Pizza and Pasta had this Italian inspired salsa that was really interesting. The YWCA made a "Dragon's Breath" salsa infused with Thai ingredients, and, whoa, it really did make your mouth light up. El Coronado had a house salsa along with a salsa verde and both were exquisite. And I was really impressed with the students at Pima Community College Hospitality, who offered up two different styles of salsa along with this delicious "tacos ahogados", which were crispy flautas drowning in a tangy green sauce. Way to go future chefs!

Everyone that was in attendance had a lanyard with a people's choice voting tablet attached. Sure the main judging was over, but now it was time for the public to speak up.

Just like last time, I had some serious difficulty deciding who should get the praise and prize. But, you know, this year I'm just going to relax and enjoy myself. Let someone else make the final chop deliberation.

So slightly soaked, full and heady, I made my way out of La Encantada and drove back home watching one of the best lightning storms to date. What a night.

Next year I will remember to hit 'reply all'. That is if I get the invite to be a judge.

Yet just being a part of the whole Salsa, Tequila and Taco Challenge was an honor.

It always is.

Lots of tequila, lots of beer, lots of food, lots of fun

So cheers SAACA (Southern Arizona Arts and Culture Association) for another successful event. And thank you, as always, for inviting me. It is always a pleasure. You kids rule!

And congrats to those who participated, those who showed up and braved the rain and for those who won.

I didn't stick around to see who actually took the trophy for each category. I didn't have to.

In my personal judgement...they all won. 

Yay!

So many happy faces

Camera, Typing and Not Judging (This Year!)
"Metal" Mark Whittaker
Missing the Rains Down at La Encantada, 2019

Metal Influence:

D.R.I.

"Decisions"

The Brief Time I Drove A Truck For Ace Hardware

As many of you know, I haven't had a proper day job since February. For those that don't know...I haven't had a day job since February. 

I left my position with the Pima County Library for various reasons. It was the day job I have had the longest, 7 years, second only to working in kitchens before becoming a food writer. 

The scoop on me leaving the library came down to getting in trouble with administration. I had made a comment on a friend's Facebook post in October of last year, one regarding the guy who held up Mi Nidito and him getting 30 years in prison. I stated something like "Oh yeah, I think that dude used to come into my library and use the computers. Total dipshit." Then on Xmas eve, at work and an hour before we were about to go home, I get a phone call. It was the three head honchos of the library inquiring about the post. Having it been 2 months later, I didn't know what they were talking about. It took some prodding on their part to get me to remember. They then asked that I delete the comment and that my employment was now under review. 

Since the friend in question has thousands of Facebook followers, it took a while to find the post, find my response and delete it. Needless to say Xmas was ruined. I spent all day, not just hungover from worry drinking, but confused about what had happened. When I returned to work after the holiday, I decided to take a break for a bit. I really needed to think about things for a week or two along with sobering up. For one, how did they find my comment? Was I being monitored? If so, do I want to work for a place that does such things? And who lays down crap news like that on Xmas eve? They couldn't have waited a day or two? 

During my leave, my wife got really sick and was in hospital for a week. So I took more time off. After being away for nearly 3 weeks, I was finally back at work. Nothing was said about the phone call or the "incident". My supervisor and branch manager hadn't heard a word from the higher ups. I guess deleting that comment was all they needed.

Then one day I get a visit from the head of HR who handed me a folder full of paperwork. She said that if I wanted to fight for my position, I would have to show up, with representation if possible, in a week or two at the main branch offices. Again, this happened an hour before I went home for the 3 day Presidents Day holiday.  

I showed the paperwork to my wife who immediately said "When you go back to work on Monday, hand in your letter of resignation. You're done there and I am done with them." She had recently gotten a big promotion at work and we were doing quite well financially. So I typed up a quick letter of resignation and when I went in on Monday, I handed it to the librarian in change, then cleaned out drawers of my stuff, took one last look around and left. 

Afterwards, I slept for almost a week. 

Because of the nature of me leaving the library, I couldn't get unemployment. I got an interview with the Community Food Bank, helping with their marketing department, but didn't get it. Then I passed all of the steps to land a position with a company called Imperfect Produce, which provides "ugly" food that would normally get thrown out but are perfectly edible, for customers and restaurants. Sounded like an ideal job for me. The interview went really well and they said they would contact me in a week or two. That was on a Friday. On Monday I got an email from them saying that I would not be moving forward. Wait...what? Why? Very strange. I totally thought I landed that gig. 

Then...nothing. Just the Weekly. No responses to inquiries or applications for a part or full time day job. Summer was about to hit and nobody was hiring a 48 year old weirdo like me. Admittedly I did fall into some despair and there was a moment or two that my mental health was being closely monitored. I do harbor a chemical imbalance that rears it dark and stupid head on occasion. I don't really remember most of April to be honest. 

Then an opportunity fell into my lap. The owner of three Ace Hardware's, who frequents my wife's restaurant, heard about my plight and offered me a job. 

"We need a guy to drive the truck a few times a week. Move transfers from store to store. Deliver items to customers. Stuff like that."

So I filled out the application, passed the background check and before long I was now the official IST (inter-store transfer) driver for a trio of busy Ace Hardware's. 

And this is the truck I got to drive...  

Nickname: Big Red

Now, I am not a macho guy. I do not frequent hardware stores. I haven't driven big trucks since my time working film production in the mid/late '90s. So I was a little nervous taking this job. 

After 2 days of training, I was set loose on my own. Driving "Big Red" was pretty easy, and a whole lot of fun. It was cool, and, yes, slightly macho to sit in that truck, raised above everyone else, and power through the streets of Tucson. Yeah man.

Anyway, here is what the job entailed:

  

A couple of times a week, usually around 10am, I'd arrive at the Ace on Campbell Ave., clock in, say hi to whomever was in the back and go check on my agenda for the day. They had set up a dry erase board with customer deliveries, special requests, errands, etc. After I put my backpack full of water and snacks on the passenger side of the truck, I'd go back and see what items had to be transferred to what store. The Campbell store was 'store 1' and designated with green sheets, the Wetmore store was 'store 2', yellow sheets, the Ina store was, yep, '3' and used pink sheets.

Since I started around the beginning of summer, most big deliveries were outdoor grills and smokers. But mainly what I did was drive customer requests from one store to another while also delivering folders to the office managers, which contained, well...manager stuff. Say that the Campbell store had a specific hose that the Ina store didn't but an Ina store customer really wanted that hose so I'd move it from Campbell to Ina. No big deal. Not a lot of brain work here.

What I did like is that I was physical again. I haven't sweated that much since being a cook and working in kitchens. It was nice. And pretty fun. Driving Big Red was a hoot. I'd just play NPR all afternoon while jamming around town in this big truck with a lift gate on the back. Look at me. I'm a tough guy now!

Some days were pretty easy and I'd be done in like 2 or 3 hours. Grill delivery days, especially if I had to go to the outskirts of southern Arizona or way into the deep reaches of the foothills or Marana, would take a bit longer. The longest days were delivering goods to the prison way out on Wilmot. That was interesting. After I passed my background check I got the go ahead to deliver stuff to the prison, which took forever. Not only because it was pretty far but due to the fact that the officers on duty had to check every item and double check, leaving me just standing around looking at dudes in orange jumpsuits walk around the yard behind massive fences laced with barbed wire.

One time a prison delivery was short a few items, some gloves I think. The next delivery day I had to drive all the way back out there, pass the big security gate where they take my backpack, driver's license and anything that might pose a "threat", such as rope, drive down the dusty and very bumpy road and hand them a packet of gloves. It probably would have been cheaper to mail them but, whatever. I was getting paid so it really didn't matter. 

One time coming back from the prison, I began to get really lightheaded. It then dawned on me that the air wasn't working and it was a good 110 outside. So over the weekend they had it fixed which set them back three grand. The look on the face of the big boss was priceless. He was not happy.

There were times when I delivered just a hammer or shovel to someone just a few blocks away from a store. And sometimes I got a tip. It was rare but it did happen. 

Everything was going okay though. I was making some extra money. I was getting out of the house a few times a week. I'd come home dirty and covered in sweat, which the wife always found enticing. It was pretty alright.

There were, unfortunately, some slip ups on my end here and there. It happens right? Accidents do occur in a line of work such as that.

One was a can of white paint that literally leapt from the cab of the truck to the back parking area of the Ina store on my first solo drive. Parking there was a bit precarious because you were on a slant so when I went to open the passenger side door, whoosh!, the can of paint just flew out. Almost comically. So if you ever go the back area of the Ace at Ina and Thornydale and see a big white paint mess...thats me. You're welcome.

Another was delivering a grill to a nutty lady who resided on a very narrow street. After I put the grill on her back patio, and her tipping me in some loose change and some crumpled 1's, I backed the truck out and knocked her mailbox over. Oops. When I got out I noticed that the mailbox was secured by some wire but no real damage had been done. So I latched the mailbox back on, went to the front door, rang the bell and explained what had happened. She didn't seem fazed at all. It looked as if my apologies were enough. Whew!

Then a few days later she calls the Wetmore store to complain.  She was probably sitting around thinking about all the free stuff she could get off of that oopsie. Funny thing is, if I didn't tell her about it she probably would have never noticed that I had bumped that box. Oh creff, is there anything you can't do?

Then on a Monday, my last stop at Ina, I hit a big bump while moving a bunch of stuff from the back to the truck and, you got it, spilled another can of white paint. The big boss was actually there, saw it, went "Huh" and moved on. I guess it was no big deal.

Then after my run on Friday I was called into the office by the Campbell store manager. She said she had to let me go because I was dropping too many items, that I was costing them too much money. I tried to explain that sometimes humans drop things, sometimes you bump into a big mailbox on a slender path of a driveway. I was never late, I was always flexible with my schedule and ready to help out whenever needed...but that wasn't enough. So I just shrugged, clocked out and came home.

Some of the guys that work at the Campbell store frequently come into my wife's restaurant. Over some beers they said that the super slow time was approaching and having an extra guy on that was making slightly more an hour just wasn't needed. I had also heard that they go through employees like tissue, sort of like the mom and pop burger place where I was kitchen manager. One mistake and out you go. How do people run businesses like that? It's so odd to me.

Whatever.

A week later I picked up my last check and that was that.

So now I am back on the hunt for a decent day job. No real bites yet, a nibble here and there, but it is rough for a 48 year old kook like me to land a straight job these days. For now I have time to work on book projects, proposals, the Weekly and this blog while being the best house husband I can be.

Being around hardware store folk has kind of rubbed off a bit. The bathroom sink leaks a little bit if you don't shut it off right. Guess I better get on that.

Yeah man.

Macho.

Welp, it was fun while it lasted

Camera, Typing and Back on the Day Job Hunt

"Metal" Mark Whittaker

Just a Few Months in 2019

Metal Influence: 

TRUCKFIGHTERS

"Gravity X"