Rare, Collectible, & Otherwise

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Cases, Showcases, Platters, and Plates.

I accepted the first delivery of restaurant-related items this morning, boxes of to-go cups, straws, plastic-ware, paper napkins, and such. I was also the deliveryman, given that I’m still what some call the “owner-operator.” All that means is that if something requires attention, it has to come to my attention and then find its natural spot in the order of priorities.

Of continuing importance in the daily agenda is getting the food service established. Having achieving lift-off in the form of Health Department approval, I can now make those purchases that I was holding off on – those boxes that came in through the back door this morning, for example.

There were great intentions for Monday.

Those intentions were laid out before Sunday, when I had to finish emptying the storage units of the final holdings, to avoid paying another month’s rent. Among the last of the moving day castaways was a four-foot glass display showcase, firmly mounted on a wooden base – no casters.

Some serious thought went into the planning to get that beast into the old van, single-handedly.

Needless to say, I wrestled with it long enough and slammed the doors in triumph, only to watch a fellow park in the last space in front of the store as I approached. I imagine I was a sight to behold, hunched over a two-wheeled hand-truck, trying to balance a glass beast at an angle that would allow me to move it while keeping it from crashing to the sidewalk.

Glass showcases are best moved on a furniture dolly. Didn’t have one.

It is sitting in the office now, as was I for some time, trying to recover.

One of the fun things about moving most of your possessions from one place to another is coming across mementoes that had been forgotten. There was a bookmark in a Tulsa People magazine from the year 2000, and when I opened it up, there was an article about Paddy’s restaurant – which many of you recall as an earlier chapter of mine.

I remembered the flattering story, written by a former radio co-worker of mine, Pat Kroblin. I enjoyed re-reading her kind review. I had forgotten the photograph that accompanied the story, which I’ve scanned into this post. More than a dozen years later, it isn’t as clear as it once was, but it is nice to see the presentation of the different menu items. Of course, there was extra care given for the photographer, but I was always proud of the plates that came out of our kitchen.

One of my axioms has always been, “People eat with their eyes first,” and if it doesn’t look attractive, the taste has a strike against it from the start. We had some tasty items at Paddy’s and this archival photo reminds me that it almost always tastes better when it is pretty on the plate.

I’m working on getting those plates, even now.

Getting closer…

All in all, it was quick and painless. A lot of the things we worry about tend to turn out that way, with the anticipation being the worst of it. I was expecting the health department inspector this afternoon, with her visit intended to give the kitchen a final once-over to determine readiness to serve up some lunch.

Truthfully, I didn’t think there would be any problems with the equipment or the kitchen. The freezer is up on casters as required, and the brand new refrigerator is chilling away at a steady 35-degrees. I’m proud enough of it all to snap a picture and upload it. As someone who truly enjoys cooking, it’s a pleasure to have a nice shiny place to do a little work. Today was the test of whether it could get off the starting line, and knowing I’ve got time and money invested in the outcome of the visit, I’ll admit to having been a little antsy.

It’s that lead-up time that allows the twinges of anxiety.

Makes me recall those radio days, when I’d have to introduce an act on stage, sometimes bound up in a tuxedo. I’d never eat beforehand, and if anyone asked I’d always blame the tux and my propensity for spilling food down my shirt. Actually, it had more to do with nervous tension – even after having done such introductions over the course of years and years.

But once I eventually stepped out onto the stage, everything was calm inside. Years ago, I was to introduce jazz pianist Ramsey Lewis at the Greenwood Jazz Festival and – unbelievably – he appeared to be visibly nervous. I would have figured a seasoned pro like Mr. Lewis would consider the Tulsa appearance almost small potatoes.

It was just a few minutes before the scheduled start of his set and he kept glancing at his watch. He was clearly discomfited.

I mentioned to him what a great-looking watch he was wearing, and he spent a good minute or so pointing out the features. He’d barely pulled his cuff down over it again when they signaled me to head to the microphone. Inspecting that watch worked wonders for the both of us. Once I called his name and the applause began, I turned and watched as he stepped onto the stage. There was nothing of nervousness in his look. He was in his element and ready to go.

The health department visit lasted less than ten minutes.

A quick inspection of the equipment, a couple of questions about how things would be done – typical food safety related questions. They were basic things about the practical operation rather than quizzing my knowledge of food safety.

I won’t name her here, but the inspector is strictly business, but exceedingly professional and courteous enough to take the edge off. The Tulsa City-County Health Department could do well with a full complement of sanitarians just like her.

Final verdict?

Passed the test.

Now, the final planning for lunch service can get underway. Watch for something delicious, coming soon to a McHuston’s book store near you (that is to say, on Main Street in Broken Arrow!).

Behind Door #1

No more wondering what’s behind that tinted storefront glass – the name is finally up on the door!

Part of the delay was computer-related. First I had to reassemble my little computer network in the new location. (Network = two old desktops with data that I can’t seem to transfer and don’t want to lose, connected by router to my laptop.) Then, the original design that was scraped off the old front door had to be updated to reflect the bistro’s coming addition.

Finally, I had to find a company to produce the design in vinyl letters.

An agent from a Tulsa company happened to be working on a neighbor’s window and made a proposal before I was ready. I wanted to use the old-time-y style letters that are on the business cards but couldn’t provide them until I had the computers hooked up. She provided a near-match in a huge graphic that would have spanned several panes of the front glass. It might have been a real eye-grabber, but I wasn’t sure about the idea of having the letters interrupted where the panes of glass were joined. At any rate, she didn’t get to the price, which I’m sure was going to be another eye-grabber.

The company that had done the outdoor sign on the previous location told me by telephone they’d be happy to look over my newly-designed graphic if I’d send it over. They never replied to my email with attached graphic file.

Finally, Tulsa Signs (actually in Broken Arrow at 61st and Aspen, next to the McDonald’s at the BA Expressway) provided a price quote that was cheaper than an internet graphics firm that was going to tack on an additional ten dollars to ship the lettering by UPS. I was happy to do business locally.

They did a one-day turnaround and even gave me a quick installation demonstration and application squeegee to get me up to speed.

Naturally, I was outside taping the thing to the front door in the midst of near gale-force winds this afternoon. Since I don’t have a third arm, I had to hold the edge of the backing in my teeth as I slowly worked the other edge loose. It’s a little nerve-racking, realizing there is just one shot, and if it goes bad the letters have to be scraped off and re-ordered.

In the midst of that tension, I apparently bit off the corner of the backing and the adhesive sheet stuck to my lower lip – unbeknownst to me. When it got a little more manageable and I reached up to take the corner from my mouth, I ripped off skin.

Yikes!

The fellow at Tulsa Signs forgot to mention that little installer’s cautionary tip.

At any rate, the letters are on the door and I believe it will help those people who have been pressing their hands and noses to the glass to peer through to know what’s inside.

Maybe I need one of those red “Come In!” signs for hesitant door-openers.

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