Cutting Up

Much like Alice falling down that rabbit hole I have bumped and scraped by and down a windy shoot of unfortunates and unhappiness. It has been a while since I have picked up and no apologies, we all know how I feel about writing about why I haven't written. I am going to employ a little faith that the past will all reveal itself as needed and I will simply press forward.
This past Tuesday I found myself awkwardly and excitedly to the right of a very cool lady. Sonya Cote. In the small kitchen she runs on the East side of sixth street in Austin I tiptoed around in my non-Danskos and oversized pants.
I don't know what it is about dressing for the first day of a new gig that I just can't get down. I was pulling my pants up every five minutes to not only spare the crack attack but also save myself from any explanation of the cherry blossom branch that runs up and down the greater part of my back. To my surprise, I was not as sweaty as I feared I might be in the kitchen, here in Texas I seem to begin sweating just looking at the weather report on my iphone.
So here's the story: looking for a little meaning in my life I was perusing the class listing at the whole foods mecca on lamar. There it was, Charcuterie 101. Perfect, I thought. $65 and 3 hours later I would feel one step closer to being closer to figuring out how to be what it is i'm supposed to be. After scrambling to get my shift covered at my "real job" I was set, until two days before the class i got a call letting me know that it was cancelled. The woman who had to break the news to me didn't know what she was in for. I gasped and as tears welled up in my eyes I deperatly tried to negotiate the truth in her statement. "no, it can't be canceled, no really it can't be, but why, that's rediculous..." She offered to find me room in the lunchtime sushi class or pie making. She didn't get that what was hidden between the lines of my desperation was the very will to live, well at least in Austin, I wanted to say to her, "Lady, this is all i have." But, I came to my senses that the whole foods culinary center is not meant to be used as a crisis center for lost twenty somethings and that I better hang up the phone before I scare somebody.
I quickly posted the facts on my facebook. I wanted everyone to tell me that I should just come home. My sister did. I wanted more for someone to give me a million dollars and a crystal ball so that I knew what to do with it.
I know I can't go home yet. That's okay. I'm slowly starting to think of it as less of a punishment and maybe, stumbling, fumbling with that silver lining it is almost an opportunity. It was in one of these moments that I decided to track down the woman who was teaching the class. Sonya Cote. I found her email address through the magic of google. I tried to mask my desperation as I delicately confessed that I needed a little direction, and to my surprise she invited me to lunch.
Over a plate of sliced meats at Home Slice, we talked about food and the meaning of real food. I told her that someday I'm going to cure meats while Andrew guides out of towners through the wild of Montana. She invited me to dinner.
Even though I had to work, I knew I needed to do this. If for no other reason, I knew a little meat might normal me out. It has been a while since I've eaten the kind of food I love. It came out little by little. By the time I left for work I had eaten enough animals to fill a petting zoo. I was delirious with organ meat and accoutrement.
So, this week I sauteed for real and blended chicken livers with cream. I trimmed pork belly and rubbed them with curing salt. I also cleaned the walk in. I literally scrubbed spilled cream off the cold metal floor. It felt good.
A chance of a lifetime, maybe. But I will say this, butcher or not, I got to it finally. Something made my little soul tick to the beat of living.
I look forward to next Tuesday.