This blog post is long overdue. "Write blog post" has been sitting on my to-do list (hey, I'm an organized lady) for weeks now. I figure I'm reaching some kind of unspoken blogosphere statute of limitations, so I better write about things that happened in April now, or forever hold my peace.
That covers the "post" part of the title. As for the belated thanks, that'll take a few more paragraphs. Ooh, or maybe bullet points--I'm a big fan of the double colon list (a la Watershed), so here goes:
My first night in Nepal
Susana: "How happy are you right now?"
Me: "THIS HAPPY!"
::Thank you, Nepal. Spending seven days in Kathmandu at the end of April with my best friend Susana was truly a turning point for me and my less-than-stellar emotional state here in Abu Dhabi. There's something special and sacred about that place--not to mention my wise, patient, insightful, loving Susana, and her beautiful and oh-so-welcoming sister-friend and hostess extraordinaire, Noelle, who shared her home and so much more with me throughout the week. We processed, cried, had silly impromptu dance sessions, explored the city, cried some more, sampled the many local delicacies, attended morning yoga sessions with the most kind-spirited and unwittingly humorous yogi (who instructed us during one class to put our foot in our anus--hello, lost in translation). There were smiles and "namastes" everywhere we went. And MONKEYS! Little by little, the weight I'd arrived with lifted, and I left far lighter in spirit and positive in perspective than I'd been in a long, long time. That leads me to my next thank you.
Salsa, cigars, and Susana:
A winning combination
:: Thank you, Susana. Quite simply, your strength and words inspire me. Oh, and you totally validated mine & Adam's feelings on Abu Dhabi, which is invaluable--especially 'cause I highly doubt anyone else is going to come visit us here considering the 5-star reviews we give it (unless we're using the Abu Dhabi Tourism Bureau rating scale, in which case Abu Dhabi might very well receive 5 stars).
:: Thank you, primal living. Okay, for the most part I've refrained from proselytizing on Facebook, via email, and in person (with the exception of Adam, who has been ever-patient with my new obsession). But this is my blog, so it's time for me to tell it like it is: I LOVE EATING PRIMAL.
Primal pizza with prosciutto, olives,
and red onion
It's been about six weeks since Adam and I cut out all grains, refined sugar, and processed foods, and simply put I have Never. Felt. Better. Breakfast, lunch, and dinner is made up of real food, every time, all the time (well, minus our one cheat day featuring Snickers bars and Baskin Robbins sundaes). Bacon, coconut milk, butter, sour cream, lamb burgers, omelets, full-fat yogurt, macadamia nuts, rotisserie chicken--did I mention BACON?!--the list of ridiculously delicious things we've been eating is endless (hence all the food porn photos). Yes, I miss sugar and baking a bit, but not as much as I thought I would. And it seems like the whole Jones the Grocer debacle was actually somehow serendipitous, considering I never would have fathomed cutting out sugar--nor felt this good--if I'd continued working there.
My new breakfast staples: bacon,
avocado, and eggs
Things I don't miss: feeling lethargic after a meal; needing to eat every two hours to avoid feeling shaky and so hungry my own hand looks appetizing; breaking out (my skin has been immaculate since going primal, which I credit in part to food, and in part to my new oil cleansing method--back to mah hippie roots for me!); my addictive behaviors around any sugary item. Clearly, I've drunk the proverbial Kool Aid--it just feels so healthy and sustainable. With that, I'll end this primal plug, but not without sharing a few helpful links for those folks so inclined to check it out for themselves: Mark's Daily Apple; Free the Animal; Cave Girl Eats; Everyday Paleo.
And a few more tempting primal food photos:
Primal pancakes with homemade
whipped cream, mango, and banana
I love me some homemade whipped cream!
Primal Movie Snack Pack: prosciutto, pastrami, Baby Bells,
apple slices, olives, fig, and beef jerky
Chicken Caesar Salad with homemade dressing
:: And finally, thank you, Michael McDonald. Yes, he has provided the head-bobbing soundtrack to this blog writing session. Actually, I probably would have finished this post much faster had I not needed to pause periodically and sing "What a Fool Believes" and "Shine Sweet Freedom." But I just can't get enough of that soulful white man. Come on, how can you resist that bushy beard:
Lou Lou (my twin sister) knows me so well, she knew this photo--snapped on the streets of San Francisco--would make me oh-so-happy. It also happens to be very full o' falafel blog appropriate.
It's day 3 of our nutritional journey, so I don't envision too much conventional falafel in my near future (though there will be primal falafel recipe experimenting at some point).
I did, however, eat 'nola with banana, apple, and coconut cream this morning for breakfast. It felt so wrong in all its creaminess, but tasted so good--and is apparently good for me. I ain't complaining.
It may be premature, but I'm feeling quite optimistic about this whole no grains, no sugar business. I also have some equally premature predictions that: 1. the awesome, yeasty spots on my back will disappear, and 2. my hamstring issues will greatly dissipate. Time will tell...
Jack Lalanne preaches against sugarholism in style (it's like he's staring through my raised-on-Lucky Charms-and-Dunkin' Donuts soul):
So, Adam and I are embarking on a new diet nutritional journey in the form of Primal Living. The very, very basic guidelines: eat meat (mmm, bacon), vegetables, fruit, and good fats (olive oil, avocado, nut oils and butters, etc.). Minimize dairy and legume consumption (some cheese and beans are okay--yay for gouda and hummus!). Avoid grains and refined sugars altogether (yes, baking will look *quite* different).
It's day one, so not much to report, but the site I stumbled across that prompted all this--Mark's Daily Apple--is a fascinating wealth o' info, much of which goes against conventional wisdom about health, food, fitness, our bodies, etc. If you're obsessed with all of these things like I am, you might wanna check it out.
P.S. Apparently, in 2009 Jack Lalanne celebrated his 95th birthday by doing 95 push-ups. Huzzah!
I am writing in between delicious bites because it's just that darn good and thus must be shared with the people I love. Plus, it's vegan, and fairly easy to make (though you may have to beef up your spice rack, not sure how many folks have turmeric on hand). Added benefit: It works wonders for easing Abu Dhabi taxi-induced motion sickness. Oh, I also substituted a can of foul medammes (aka fava beans) for the black beans 'cause they seemed more appropriate for a Middle Eastern dish.
While I'm at it, here are a few other yummy things that have happened at The Manzel Kitchen recently:
My own lunch time invention, Middle Eastern-inspired pizza: whole wheat flat bread topped with hummus, sauteed onions and mushrooms, and lamb kofta.
Did you know that LAMB IS DELICIOUS? Well, it is.
Garlicky roasted chicken with garlic jus on garlic toast. This recipe called for three heads--not cloves, heads--of garlic. I never thought I'd say this, but it was almost *too* garlicky. I imagine they served similar dishes at my father's Lions Club dinners--my mom used to tell me he'd come home and sweat garlic out of his pores for days afterward.
Eaten.
I spend a lot more time reading other people's blogs than writing my own. Mostly, I salivate over food blogs. When I am irked and confused by Adam's ability to "shoot guys" for hours on end, I remind myself of my similarly time-consuming habit of going deep down the rabbit hole of deliciously tempting recipes on smitten kitchen, Pioneer Woman, Bake or Break... The list is endless.
Which brings me to the Thing Which Must Be Eaten: oats in a jar. I got this "recipe" from Runner's Kitchen (satisfies two of my loves in life: running and eating). It goes something like this:
STOP. Don't throw away that nearly empty jar of peanut/almond/other hippie nut butter you think is useless given its resistance to all your knife/spoon/spatula efforts to scoop the remnants of its deliciousness out and onto your bread (or directly into your mouth, if that's yer thing).
Grab your oats. I measured out a 1/3 cup of oats, dropped them in the jar, and then filled it with about enough water to cover the oats + 1/2 inch (if you want to get more precise, you can follow the cooking directions on your bag o' oats). I also added a small handful of raisins.
Make it hot. I microwaved mine for about 2 1/2 minutes, checked it, and then gave it another 30 seconds. Again, you can follow cooking directions on the bag if you prefer.
Dress it up. Once the oats were cooked, I added cinnamon, maple syrup, chocolate chips, soy milk, and topped it off with some chopped banana. Adam went sans chocolate chips, claiming he's "watching his girlish figure."
DEVOUR.
Watched. Dexter.All five seasons, if you have that kind of time on your hands (and the privileged lady I am, I do). It somehow manages to be bloody and disturbing yet warm and funny at the same time. The characters are dynamic and real, and I've grown very fond of those who've stayed with the show since the beginning (Dexter, Deb, Rita, Angel, LaGuerta, and even midget porn-loving Masuka). Don't be deterred by the third season's slightly meh story line--it's worth sticking it out through Jimmy Smit's obnoxious mustache to seasons four and five.
Confessed.
Quoting Masuka, the aforementioned potty-mouthed Dexter character, "It's 20[11], who smokes?"
The answer, shockingly and sadly, is me. Yup, the woman who ran for two hours and nearly 13 miles this morning then bought a pack of Davidoff Super Slim Lights. I know, trust me, I know. But I tell myself (and you concerned family and friends) that this is strictly an Abu Dhabi vice, and when I leave this fairly terrible place, I will quit this awfully terrible habit. Promise.
Apparently, there's at least one good thing about getting a nasty Abu Dhabi stomach virus: it enabled me to wean myself off of caffeine for the first time in 3+ years. My love affair with coffee began late in life (I was 26). Somehow I managed to get through countless college all nighters with zero help from the caffeine goddesses. I even spent the first 2+ years of my life in San Francisco, home to some of the tastiest, non-chain coffee shops around (Philz lovers unite!), without being the least bit tempted. And then Watershed happened, and I was hooked on the oh-so-bonding AM coffee run (miss you guys).
Anyway, coffee was the last thing I wanted hanging out in my stomach with that flu bug, so it just happened: I stopped drinking coffee, and have only had one cup in the past 2 1/2 weeks (which had me wide awake from 1:30am through the next evening). Can't say whether it's a momentary cleanse or a longer term change, but it's a notable difference being free of the wonderfully aromatic and tasty drug.
Along with quitting coffee, I'm making a much more concerted effort to quit whining about life here in Abu Dhabi. Not because I suddenly love it here (I don't), but because here is where I am right now. And it's pretty damn good on many, many fronts. I have totally flexible work hours. I do yoga whenever I want. Adam and I have made some rad friends, and when I need a fix, I Skype with my lovely, wonderful, dearly missed sisters and friends and family back home.
Oh, and I bake A LOT. With the help of my bad-ass birthday silpat, my ratio of successful-to-burnt baked goods has improved immensely. I've probably gone through a few pounds of butter on cinnamon rolls and cupcakes alone. I've tried my hand at homemade nutella and perfected my peanut butter cups. I can spend an hour looking for the best burger bun recipe, four hours carefully making it, and then another hour eating every last crumb of it from my plate (with a giant Australian beef burger patty in the middle) while Adam and I enjoy one of many home-cooked weeknight dinners. You get the point.
Yes, I'd like to get on my bicycle and head down Valencia to meet up with my sisters for Wednesday night sister night. I'd love to ride BART with no pants--or put some sexy pants on for a night out with my ladies. And though Adam makes a mean bloody mary, I long for a lazy afternoon sitting across from Chad and Gina at Zeitgeist. But that's all there, and I'm here. And here's got its perks and its great folks and yummy food as well (cheap-ass shawarma, I heart you). So this is kinda my March resolution--hoping it sticks more than I think the coffee one will.
I started my new job working as a pastry chef for jones the grocer, an Australian chain that sells "gourmet food for everyday living," on January 30th. I resigned on February 24th.
I went into the whole experience bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, beyond excited that here I was kicking off my new career as a baker, making it happen in Abu Dhabi of all places. I knew I'd bitten off a mighty big chunk o' bread, diving into a professional kitchen with no professional experience, but I was certain I'd learn quickly and that my Energizer Bunny stamina would ultimately conquer the 6 days/week, 9 hours/day schedule I'd agreed to. And even though I embarrassed myself multiple times in the first couple of days (Uh, how the heck do I attach this whisk to the mixer again?), it didn't take long before I was arriving to work and immediately knew what to do (Displays full? Check. Sufficient back-ups in the chiller? Check. Production list? On it.)
What I didn't expect--and what was the main motive behind my leaving so quickly--was that jones would sadly employ the same exploitative work practices as many other Abu Dhabi entities. I couldn't ignore it: my pastry coworkers' stories of having to work 12-16 hour shifts for 3 months with not one day off because they were short-staffed; another colleague who was told in his Skype interview he'd be working 5 days a week, 50 hours maximum, and who instead worked 50 hours in his first 3 days (and was on a 6-day schedule like everyone else); my Muslim steward friend who was ecstatic that he was moved from the kitchen to the bakery area, because in the bakery area he was allowed short breaks to pray, while in the kitchen he told me his boss "would cry if he asked for time to go pray."
It was so disappointing it made me cry and yell on multiple occasions. I tried to advocate for myself and my coworkers to no avail. Finally, on what would become my last day of work, the owner came up to me and asked me how I was doing.
Me: Fine.
Owner: Are you happy?
And I just couldn't lie. Me, who tends to avoid conflict at all cost, I told the owner what was what. I ran home (literally) that night and knew I had to resign, which I did the next morning. An excerpt from the email:
Hi all,
I am extremely disappointed to give my official resignation from jones the grocer, effective immediately. In my very short term of employment, I have found jones to be unprofessional, dishonest, and disrespectful of its staff, and I do not wish to continue to be a part of this kind of work environment. Mr. Owner [changing names here, not for their sake, but 'cause you never know what'll get you in serious trouble in AD], you seemed genuinely surprised at my complaints during our conversation yesterday, so I offer you the following explanation.
When I was interviewed, Mr. Executive Chef told me that I could "work 3, 4, or 5 days a week," which I now interpret as a flat-out lie. When I received and signed my contract that stipulated "The Employee shall work a maximum of six days / Fifty Four (54) hours per week, including One (1) hour’s break each shift of nine (9) hours or more," I naively assumed that 6 days a week/54 hours per week would be just that--a maximum--and that I would negotiate a 4-5 day/week schedule upon starting as was discussed during my interview.
I accepted my 6-day schedule because I had hoped to learn as much from this opportunity as possible. Within 4 days, my hours shot from 9 to 10-12. In the first week, I raised my concerns with HR and was told they would be flagged to the necessary people. Two days later, I had to write an email (which I thought was confidential, but was not) because no one had yet followed up with me. The next day, Mr. Executive Chef told me that, even though my contract said one thing, I was going to have to be flexible and work extra hours because "we can't treat you differently than any other employee."
Which brings me to my concern of equal weight, which is that other jones the grocer employees are taken advantage of and made to work much longer than their contracted shifts. I asked a colleague yesterday on a scale of 1 to 10 how happy he was at jones, and he responded despondently with a 2, citing 14-hour shifts as his main complaint. Other employees have said they were also told in their interview that they would be working a certain number of days and hours per work, only to arrive and end up working much longer shifts. And I have been told by numerous people that no one complains because if they do so, they will be fired and consequently forced to leave the country--a consequence that thankfully doesn't force me to remain silent about how wrong it is to exploit employees in this way. I and others have been told that more staff will be hired and this issue will be remedied, but from what I've been told by many employees who have been with the company from its inception, under-staffing has always been a problem, and I don't see this getting any better with three new locations set to open. The fact is, it is cruel and inhumane to exploit the economic hardships of others, requiring them to work 70+ hours a week with barely a break or face deportation. I know this is common practice in Abu Dhabi, but I honestly thought jones would be different. A slightly larger profit margin is not worth the harm you inflict on the lives of your employees. You can tell yourselves that they have it better than they would elsewhere, but this does not excuse the fact that you choose your own greed over their well-being.
***********************
I've spoken with a few people at jones since I sent this email and was told that it opened up quite the can of worms. I was told by the general manager who was genuinely appreciative of my candidness that they are going to work to rectify the under-staffing issue as soon as possible. More importantly, he said they are going to take a long, hard look at jones's values to make sure their profit margin and customers' satisfaction does not come at the expense of their employees' happiness and health. I hope so much that they make good on these promises.
And while I am still kinda mourning the fact that my baking plans are put on hold, I'm looking forward to: a) working remotely for Watershed, the most bad-ass, do-gooding consultant company of all time; b) spending more time with Adam and my Abu Dhabi friends (I missed you guys); c) baking! At home, that is. Bagels, fruit loaf, and banoffee pie are just a few things on my list of recipes to master.
