How Rude Can Salespeople Get?

This is the “Tale of the Rude Fish Man.” And seriously, please leave me your thoughts after you read this.

Because I am starting to wonder: Is it me — or is everyone just #@!%*&#! rude these days?

I have not bought fish at one particular supermarket for many months. Once the Sockeye and Coho Salmon stop running, they only carry farm raised salmon. Which I refuse to eat.

And when the Hypocritical Vegetarian comes out in me, I need my salmon.

I was at this supermarket the other day, and I was really craving fish. I didn’t want to — I had my cart loaded with asparagus and mushrooms and sweet potatoes and the like. But my mouth was telling my brain, “Where’s the salmon?”

So I decided, on a whim, to stop by the fish counter at this supermarket.

And this was where I met Rude Fish Man (RFM).

“Can I help you?” he asks in a less-than-friendly way.

“Ummm, just looking right now. Thanks,” I say.

I scan the different types of salmon — farm raised, farm raised … wait … what’s this?

I see one particular type of salmon that says yes, it’s farm raised, but on some “family farm” in Scotland, which also happens to be certified organic and where the fish are happily splashing away in crystal clear waters.

OK, I exaggerate. But everything written on the little tag sounds good.

Why not? I figure. Go for it! says my mouth.

“I think I would like some fish, please,” I say, when I’m able to catch RFM’s eye.

He doesn’t say “Sure, what can I get you?” or any of the expected happy-to-serve-you type remarks. He slumps over to the counter and just looks at me.

“Have you ever had this Scottish salmon?” I ask, pointing to my choice. (I know — sometimes it amazes me that I don’t have a “kick me” sign taped to my back.)

RFM glares at me. “I hate salmon.”

Well, now.

I mentally shake my head. Whatever. “Could I please have 3/4 of a pound of the Scottish salmon — and could you remove the skin?”

“Yeah,” he mumbles, and reaches in to take one of the already cut pieces of salmon.

Here’s where it gets good: There are about 6 smaller pieces of salmon already cut, and then there are 2 or 3 very large pieces.

RFM takes a pre-cut piece and throws it on the scale: .45 it says.

“This OK?” he asked, getting ready to whip it off the scale and wrap it up.

“Well, no,” I say. “I’d like 3/4 of a pound. That’s a good deal under.”

He gives me a dark look and reaches for another piece. That gets tossed on the scale: .97

He looks at me — daring me to refuse the salmon.

“That’s nearly a pound,” I say. “I just want 3/4.”

“I don’t know what you want me to do,” he snaps.

A professor-ish looking man is standing next to me and I glance at him. He shrugs.

“Well, I’d like a piece that weighs three-quarters of a pound,” I say.

He begins jabbing his finger at the different pre-cut pieces. “This’ll be too big, this’ll be too small …”

“Could you possibly take the large piece and cut me 3/4 of a pound from that?” I ask.

RFM puts his hands on his hips. “Then I’m gonna have to waste a lot of fish,” he says angrily.

Huh? From the big piece?

If I have learned anything in life, it’s that the best policy in a stand-off is usually to shut up.

So I don’t say a word. I just stand there and finally, with a lot of sighing, huffing and moaning, RFM grabs the big piece of salmon and cuts me off a section that — miracle! — weighs .75.

While he’s wrapping it up, I turn to the professor next to me. “Am I being unreasonable here?” I ask him.

Professor’s lips turn up. “He does seem moderately annoyed,” he agrees.

RFM hands me the salmon without saying a word and turns away.

“You’re going to love that fish,” Professor tells me as I turn to leave. ‘I do a lot of fishing and won’t eat any farm-raised salmon — except for that.”

Fast forward several hours: I take the fish out of the wrapping — and it has the skin on.

The best news is also the worst news. The Professor was right. That salmon was one of the most delicious pieces of grilled fish I’ve ever had (marinade to come in a future post). Which means … I’ll have to go back there and get more!

So who’s right and who’s wrong? I thought the mantra of salespeople was “the customer is always right,” but apparently that’s an urban legend.

Go ahead — let me know what you think.

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Hypocritical Vegetarian: Spaghetti and …

It was one of those cold, dreary March days, the kind that forces you to keep reminding yourself it’s spring.

Wrapped in one of my winter sweaters at work, I was listening to a co-worker tell me about a situation she’d gotten involved in the day before. And it just so happened the situation took place at an Italian restaurant.

“What’d you eat?” I interrupted.

By now, most people know I will disregard the point of their story once they mention food. I always have to know what they ate.

“Pasta,” she said, diving right back into the heart of her tale.

I raised an eyebrow. “Pasta and what?”

“What?” she asked. She was trying to build some drama into her story — and I was definitely getting in her way.

“What was on the pasta?” I asked. “You didn’t just eat plain pasta did you?”

“No … there was sauce on it,” she said. She opened her mouth to continue.

“Red or white?”

She sighed. “Red.”

“Was it tomato?”

“I think so,” she said. “Yeah, I’m sure it was some kind of tomato sauce. It was delicious.”

She finished her story, and I walked away with my head full of spaghetti thoughts.

It would be the perfect dinner on this cold, comfortless day.

I stopped off at Wegmans on my way home. I still had no idea what I was going to make. Yes, it would be pasta — but spaghetti? Tomato sauce? No … I wanted something different.

I poked around the produce section and saw some gorgeous red bell peppers. Without thinking, I popped three of them in a plastic bag.

Then I grabbed a red onion, parsley and some garlic (because what else do you do when you’ve just put 3 red bell peppers in your cart?).

Then I found a box of mezze penne (baby penne) and a baguette ciabatta. (Obviously a cross between a baguette and ciabatta. I don’t know if this is a Wegmans specialty or a universal bread, but either way, I figured I couldn’t go wrong.)

Back home, I had to make a quick decision. It was already going on 6. Should I work out? If I did and then began cooking, I wouldn’t be eating until 7:30 the earliest. Probably more like 8 o’clock.

“Forget the workout,” Maddie told me. “You walked me for an hour this morning anyway. That has to count for something.”

Sometimes, my dog has indisputable logic. I skipped the workout.

And here’s the recipe — perfect for cold, dreary nights or any time you want to make life a little bit more comfortable.

Pasta with Roasted Red Pepper Sauce

Roast the peppers: Core, seed and slice 3 red bell peppers into large pieces — 3-4 per pepper. Rub the pepper slices all over with extra virgin olive oil and spread skin-side-up on an oiled baking sheet. Crush 2-3 large garlic cloves over the peppers and place in the oven about 20-25 minutes, until peppers are charred.

Put the blackened peppers in a brown paper bag for 5-10 minutes, closing up the bag (just loosely roll the top).

Remove the peppers and slide off the skin.

Into a food processor, toss:

• the roasted peppers
• 1 medium red onion, chopped
• 1/4 cup chopped parsley
• sprinkling of dried basil
• sprinkling of dried oregano
• a few turns from your pepper grinder

Process the mixture, adding enough chicken broth or vegetable stock to give it the consistency you like. (Yes, I admit to using chicken broth. I was starving and I had a small can in my cupboard.)

You may feel the need to season with salt. I don’t use any.

Serve over cooked penne with a lot of parmesan cheese.

And for complete indulgence: Slice your baguette ciabatta in half, spread with unsalted butter and crush some garlic over it. Run under the broiler until brown and bubbly.

Enjoy!

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1-2-3 Mac ‘n’ Cheese: Homemade, Delicious … and So Easy!

This is so easy to make, it’s almost embarrassing to devote an entire post to it.

But here’s the truth: My mother was legendary in our town for her Macaroni & Cheese, and the recipe has been passed on to me.

No man or beast can resist it.

So please … no judgment when you see the recipe. Just trust me: If you love Mac & Cheese, you will not be disappointed:

Macaroni and Cheese

• 1 box elbow macaroni
• 1 package Kraft American Cheese slices (white or orange, 2% or whole milk — your choice. I like the orange 2%. Try Kraft Sharp Cheddar slices for a bit more kick.)
• 1/2 a stick unsalted butter
• optional: salt — either regular table salt or Jane’s Krazy Mixed Up Salt (I use a little sprinkling of Jane’s stuff if company’s coming. Otherwise, I go saltless)
• Milk — skim, 2% or whole

Directions:

• Cook the box of macaroni according to the package directions.
• Spray an 8 x 8 glass baking dish with Pam.
• Put 1/3 of the cooked macaroni in the dish
• Then dot with butter (anywhere from 1-2 Tablespoons)
• Sprinkle with salt (if you choose)
• Cover with 4-5 slices of American cheese
• Repeat the layering process 3 times until you end with cheese on top.
• Pour in enough milk in one of the corners until it’s about a half-inch deep.
• Bake at 350 for 30 minutes.

Now tell me that’s not delicious!

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Hypocritical Vegetarian Meets Mother Hubbard

 

I’ve been wondering lately: What does everyone else eat when you arrive home after a day of work, open up your refrigerator and cry, “There’s nothing to eat!”?

Yeah, I know I could hop back in the car and run over to Trader Joe’s, Whole Foods, Wegmans or (gasp!) Pathmark … but who feels like it?

I just got home, the dog’s waiting to be fed (of course I’m never out of her food!) and if I’m planning to do a workout, well, there’s just no way I’m driving to the store for food.

Even if I had the motivation, what time would I wind up eating — 9 pm?!

Plus, I always tell myself, “There is stuff here you could eat, if you felt like making it.”

So what does it come down to?

Well, here’s my response to the age-old question of  “What do you eat when there’s nothing to eat?”:

• Eggs
• Brown rice and the least droopy vegetables I have
• Pasta mixed with good ol’ Kraft American cheese (I always have it on hand because it’s a great bribe when I need to brush my dog, clip her paws, etc.)
• Baked potato — with melted cheese on top
• Cheese, crackers and a cup of yogurt — yeah, filling.
• Trader Joe’s wild caught salmon patties (always in my freezer), sauteed in a vinaigrette of olive oil, garlic, Dijon and lemon juice
• Waffles or pancakes (from scratch; no mixes allowed)
• Oatmeal

OK … I see where this list is going.

For the most part, I really tend to fall back on breakfast food. I’d like to say I only eat it for dinner when there’s nothing else to eat, but the truth is, I love breakfast more than any other meal.

Take me to a diner that serves breakfast 24/7, and I’m a happy camper.

Anyway, I imagine you  can guess why I wrote this post. Yep … time to head downstairs and decide between an omelet or waffles tonight.

What do you eat when there’s nothing to eat?

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The Hypocritical Vegetarian: Chocolate

I gave up chocolate for two years when I was a teenager.

My skin had always been perfect and suddenly it was, well … you know. Spotty. So I stopped eating fried foods and chocolate.

I don’t remember much about my skin during those two years — but I do remember Life Without Chocolate.

What is it about chocolate?!

Clearly, it’s not addictive — or I couldn’t have given it up for two years. (Trust me, my willpower isn’t that good.)

But there is something so intensely, almost spiritually, satisfying about chocolate, it defies description — at least by me.

Fast forward to last weekend.

I was going to watch the baseball playoffs with friends, and it was my turn to bring dinner.

I came up with the menu pretty quickly:

• Wild Coho salmon sauteed in a hint of olive oil, with garlic, Dijon mustard, soy sauce and hoisin sauce
• Roasted asparagus and crimini mushrooms
• The amazing quinoa recipe I’ve already told you about.

I was good to go — when for some reason I flipped through the pages of The Whole Foods Market Cookbook. (I promise this is the last time I’ll mention this book — and no, they really aren’t paying me. But they should be.)

I saw a recipe I hadn’t noticed before for Silken Tofu Chocolate Mousse.

Huh.

I’m not a big fan of tofu — I often sense a chalky aftertaste that puts me off it. But this had all the flavors I love: chocolate, coffee, almond, vanilla. And it sounded so bizarrely healthy for a dessert.

Best of all: It looked like it would take about 3 minutes to make.

So here you go — a recipe for one of the most intensely flavored and delicious chocolate desserts I’ve ever made (and you have to believe me when I say I’ve made a lot of chocolate desserts!)

I do want to mention that the flavors were so strong, we needed to cut it with whipped cream (my choice) or serve it over vanilla frozen yogurt. No one was disappointed.

This mousse is incredible.

Silken Tofu Chocolate Mousse:

• 12 oz. silken tofu, drained
• 1/4 C plus 3 Tbs unsweetened cocoa powder (I use Hershey’s special dark)
• 1/3 C pure maple syrup
• 1 Tbs instant coffee granules (decaf for me)
• 1 Tbs pure vanilla extract (yeah, it’s a lot — but it works)
  
• 1 oz Amaretto (about 2 Tbs)

(It also calls for 1 Tbs orange zest, but I have a personal dislike of chocolate mixed with orange, so I just left it out.)

Toss everything in a food processor for 1 1/2 minutes until smooth. Pour into individual cups or a larger serving dish and chill at least 6 hours.

Let me know what you think — and don’t forget to follow me on Twitter!

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