Rare, Collectible, & Otherwise

Tag: Irish (Page 107 of 112)

Cheesy changes.

You know what they say about change… Keep it! (I’m kidding. I don’t think anyone ever says “Keep the change” except in the movies.) The old saying is something like – there is nothing constant, but change. It’s a froo-froo way of pointing out that we can’t really rely on things being the same as they were last week.

It’s the same with the lunchtime menu.

The items have been changed out a couple of times already, and I’ve mentioned to folks that the cardstock menu is just temporary since I don’t want to pay to etch it in stone (or lamination) until I’m relatively certain that they are the right things at the right price.

A couple of items have been bumped. Not that there was anything wrong with the food, but since I’m still the head chef, line cook, waiter, busboy, and dishwasher – it is important that anything being offered is easy to plate up and serve. (A party of six had me worried, but the majority ordered Irish stew, of which I am a master ladler. (Spellchecker didn’t flag that as a made up word, so perhaps there is a user of ladles called such…)

The grilled chicken is gone. There won’t be a lot of lamenting among you, I know, because it was among the least ordered items on the menu. In its place is a grilled three-cheese: it is nothing fancy, but plenty tasty on the grilled Irish loaf and on the inexpensive end of the price line. The corned beef and Swiss sandwich no longer features slaw atop the sliced meat. I was trying to achieve a Reuben-like sandwich without grilling sauerkraut (which produces a distinct aroma that books love to absorb). I thought the slaw might substitute, but I didn’t care for it after all. The sandwich works as a kraut-less Reuben and is still delicious.

I’ve also fine-tuned some obvious (or should have been obvious) errors, like leaving off the price for a cup ($3.95) or bowl ($5.95) of soup. Oops.

The hours for the food service are still limited. I want to run with it, but I’m still at the crawl/walk stage. The 11:30am to 1:30pm window covers most folk’s lunch hour and gives me plenty of time to get my dishwashing apron a workout afterward.

Wrestling the Beast.

There is a beast in the bookstore. I had a suspicion it was a threat to my well-being when I first encountered it. It’s a 300-pounder.

As those of you who have been following the progress know, the logistics of covering all the bistro bases has been lengthy. Believe me, no one wants it up and running more than I do. On the other hand – I love my job, the new location, and the relative lack of stress I experience now compared to my previous occupations. The last thing I want to do is stress out over a self-imposed deadline. Right now, the food experience is limited to carry-out at lunchtime while I work toward table service.

Having the beast in here will help in that regard.

I’ve been searching for a qualified ice dispenser for some time. Foodies will recall that restaurants are required to have commercial-grade equipment. That ruled out my keeping ice in a Styrofoam cooler. And as ice tends to melt and stick to itself in shapes that sometimes won’t fit in a drinking glass, I was looking for something that would break up the ice as well as drop it into a cup.

Thus, the beast.

It was a Craigslist offering by a Tulsa law firm. They had never used it, and I never did get a solid reason as to why it was in the corner of an associate’s office. For three years, she said. The picture with the online ad had no real reference point as to its size, but when I visited it in person it was much, much bigger than I had anticipated.

We plugged it in and the ice-mover kicked into action, dispensing all sorts of invisible ice. Perfect.

Leaning into it, I gave the upper edge a shove with my palms. It didn’t budge. Not a bit.

I figured I didn’t have the angle on it, and tried again. Still it would not be moved or tipped in the slightest. It was clear to me I wouldn’t be hauling it out that Saturday morning. The attorney asked her son if he thought it would fit in the back of his Jeep, and the son, enjoying the optimism that goes along with being eighteen years old, said “Sure.”

That sort of blind hopefulness escaped me years ago. I told him I thought maybe HE might be able to move it, but that I wouldn’t be of any help. Without a hand-truck or a furniture dolly, even dragging it into the hallway would have been a major chore.

An appointment was made for the following weekend, at which point I fully intended to have a football team’s worth of young men to help me tame the beast. There was no muscle-bound crowd, though, come Saturday morning. It turned out to be my wife and me. Fabiola is not big, but she doesn’t back down from a challenge.

Naturally, after a summer-long drought, it was raining as we pulled into the parking lot. Once out of the rain and in the office, my wife and I teamed up on the machine and between the two of us, we got the beast tipped to the side enough to roll the wheels underneath. Barely fit through the office door. The long hallway was a rolling cinch. There was some reluctance on the part of the beast when it came time to actually leave the building. It grabbed the rubber floor mat with some sort of teeth I hadn’t noticed earlier. It hung on while we grappled with it. Finally, it gave in.

Out in the rain, in front of the hulking stainless steel and plastic, my apprehension quickly settled in. The attorney took charge, fortunately. She pointed out that the weight was at the back edge and set a method of attack. Fab and I grabbed at our assigned corners, and we all lifted. There was no stopping to think about it first, and that was a good thing.

Somehow, the three of us managed to raise it to the height of the truck’s tailgate. It could have been adrenaline. After shoving it forward far enough to close the gate, we thanked the attorney, and drove off.

Sitting down, driving away, my head cleared enough to realize that she and I would never be able to lower the beast back down again.

Needless to say, we concocted a plan and it might have worked. The task was completed much easier with the aid of a kind gentleman who saw our struggle and offered help.

Still, the job isn’t done. The beast is in its new home, but needs a bath. There is extra work associated with almost every project.

I’ve got the comet and Clorox in hand. The beast is before me.

Here now, the nooze.

Fights at the Friendly Tavern? Are they pillow fights? I had to know more.

I sell words bound in volumes. That’s probably why I have such a tough time with the quality of writing on the internet, much of which is horrendous (including most of the columns here).

That’s not to say that bad books don’t exist, but normally an editor is involved to some degree in book publishing.

This example from Tulsa’s Channel 8 website should not have escaped a junior-high English class.

Man Stabs Wife at Bar

As a headline, this is totally acceptable. As an example of spousal affection, it is totally reprehensible.

A woman is stabbed by her husband at an east Tulsa bar.

A woman is stabbed? A woman is beautiful, maybe. A woman is wealthy. A woman is intelligent. A woman is elderly. A woman is stabbed? Sounds a lot like a CSI recounting of an event.

CSI Rookie: Okay, here’s how I see it. Some whiskey is consumed. Some words are exchanged. A woman is stabbed. A man runs off. We got ourselves a murder.

CSI Veteran: She ain’t dead, Frank.

CSI Rookie: Oops. An ambulance is called.

Back in the days when teachers taught students to diagram sentences to show the various parts, the above example would have proven difficult. A few years ago, some consultant told broadcasters to write in the present tense to make it sound more urgent. Here’s a news flash. It doesn’t work. The practice just makes for bad English. Channel 8, I believe, is the leading practitioner of the style. Present tense? How about: A woman is expected to survive after being stabbed at an east Tulsa bar. If you are talking to a friend (and hopefully Channel 8 newsfolks consider us as such) wouldn’t you just say:

Friend: A woman was stabbed by her husband.

Pal: An ambulance is called.

Police were called to Friendly Tavern on east 31st Street around 1:30 Wednesday morning.

Despite the admonitions of the consultant, our author has reverted to past tense for the second sentence/paragraph, which reads just fine but suffers for punctuation. The AP Stylebook advises the capitalization of directions when used as part of a street address: “on east 31st” should have been written “on East 31st.” But that’s nitpicking, and forgivable. The injection of irony is also admirable.

Friend: Where did the man stab his wife?

Pal: Friendly Tavern.

Friend: Sure it is, but where was she stabbed?

Pal: Oh. In the back. An ambulance is called.

Officers tell KTUL.com that the man stabbed his wife in the back and ran off. It’s unclear if a fight lead up to the violence.

Moving back to present tense, the “Officers tell” rather than “Officers told KTUL.com…” which is only an issue in that – from a continuity standpoint – it might better serve the readers if the author could pick a tense and stand by it, rather than stab it in the back and run off.

As to the second part of the paragraph, I have a suspicion that most stabbings are the result of a fight between two parties. In fact, I believe it to be true (although not researched formally here) that – without the violent fight aspect – a stabbing is called impaling. I suppose there are accidental stabbings, after which the knife-wielding party always runs off.

As to whether “a fight lead up” to the violence: When you’re hit over the head, the instrument could be a “lead” pipe. But when it’s a verb, “lead” is the present and “led” is the past tense. The problem is that – in broadcasting – the past tense is pronounced exactly like the above-mentioned plumbing material, so people – including broadcast writers – often confuse the two. In a sentence like “She led us to the scene of the crime,” or “It’s unclear if a fight led up to the violence,” always use the three-letter spelling.

The man surrendered to police later in downtown

Sticking to past tense, our author achieves a credible relating of fact here, although, lacking a sentence-ending period, the reader cannot be certain if the man surrendered to police later in downtown Oklahoma City or downtown Tulsa. If the location is assumed to be Tulsa, perhaps the sentence would have been better served by omitting the word “in.” The man later surrendered to downtown police. Even if that doesn’t work exactly – there should have been a period. Markings are important, even in broadcast media. Try reading this without the appropriate punctuation:

a woman without her man is nothing

The stabbed woman certainly won’t agree with the implied sentiment there, but add a little punctuation…

A woman: Without her, Man is nothing.

You see, the little marks make a big difference.

His wife should survive her injuries.

We’re back in the present, and – although tense – even the recovering wife might approve that sentence.

There are a number of ways that the story could have been correctly written, and I’d offer some examples – but at this point, the story is old news and doesn’t require repeating.

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