Young, Cool Foodies

I have never been a particularly adventurous foodie. I like what I like. I am, however, open to expanding my universe. I went to work in a large city with a group of city folks who have a much larger food universe than I. These are young, cool , foodies who take advantage of the thousands of food options that are available in the city. They invited me to share their foodie experience and I jumped at the chance.

While I may not be particularly adventurous I have definite likes and dislikes. I like spicy food. Let me clarify that, I like food that I make that is spiced the way I spice it. I generally don’t eat spicy foods that cause my throat to clench and my eyes to water. It’s just a personal rule that I have. It has worked well for me so far. This past summer we did, at the request of my son, plant pepper plants which had the word “dragon” in the name. This is not a good sign for someone like me but I went along anyway with the agreement that I would not have to touch said peppers. He and his father took care of said pepper plants, including picking them, and drying them. They had to wear surgical gloves when doing those activities, which was a sign to me that I had made the right decision. My part of the whole experience was to buy the surgical gloves.

The young, cool, foodies were going to a Chinese restaurant that has a reputation for having really hot food. I was very excited to be going. This restaurant rates the dishes from a 3 to a 10 with 10 being the burn your hair off. I chose what I thought would be a safe dish. It was rated a 3. The young, cool foodies assured me that it wasn’t too spicy. Here is a observation that I should have picked up on. Never, and I mean never, take spicy food advice from people who order 6 to 10 levels. These nice people have had the sensory nerves on their tongues melted. They can’t feel anything. I did not pick up on this. My dish came and it was spicy. It would have been a 6 or 7 on my scale. It was definitely not a 3 in my universe. I also wondered if the chef had made my 3 hotter than the normal 3 because I asked for silverware. Apparently that is a no-no. The waiter looked at me like I had just asked for his social security number. It was a big “how dare you” face. They didn’t have a knife but were kind enough to furnish me with a fork.

 My throat was clenching a little. I was managing the heat by alternating between drinking huge amounts of water and eating white rice, which in my heat impaired mind, was serving the same duty as bread if you are eating really spicy Italian food. It calms the heat effect down. I was hiding the whole burning my mouth rather well I thought. I was starting to feel pretty comfortable with my level of spice endurance. Then one of the young, cool, foodies suggested that I try a dish that she had. She assured me that it wasn’t too hot. This is the part where picking up on the never take spice advice from people who order the 6-10 level comes in. I jabbed my fork into the dish, picked up three or four of the little goodies, and plopped them in my mouth. That was the second mistake. I should have gotten one, not four. My eyes got the better of me. They just looked so good. My throat started to clench and burn. My eyes started to water. I couldn’t get to the water and rice fast enough. I also couldn’t talk. Not one word was able to leave my lips. My co-workers were asking me if I was all right. I nodded and that required effort. It took a few minutes of inhaling rice and water to calm down my throat. The young, cool foodies were all concerned. Eventually I was able to speak, and my eyes started to focus again. Then it was over. I actually enjoyed the experience. I could have lived without loosing the ability to talk, but the food was good and the company was better.

Two weeks later they were headed back to the burn your throat restaurant. I jumped at the chance to go back. I was not going to be caught off guard this time. I ordered the same number 3 with a large bowl of rice. Preparation is the key. I also ordered spring rolls, which are also not spicy at all. I was doing well. One bite of spicy, one bite of a roll or rice followed by water if needed. It was a one for me and one for them methodology. Then the young, cool, foodie asked if I wanted to share. It was the same dish as before. I said yes. This time, I had one, cut it in tiny pieces and ate it with a fork full of rice. I may have looked ridiculous cutting and eating tiny pieces and rice but hey, I never lost the ability to speak so it was worth it. I win! Next up…restaurant week!

The Insulator

Winter is coming and I needed an appropriate coat. I am a commuter. I drive to work. Then I take a train. Then I walk four blocks to my office. It will have to be a very special coat. It has to be warm. It has to have room to move. It has to be long enough to cover my tush while sitting on the train. It has to be water repellent so I can wear it in the snow and rain. Naturally, I was taking my time picking my new coat. I had just started my search when my husband and sons bought me a coat for my birthday. It was a beautiful coat. It was deep purple which is my favorite color. It was long, and warm and just about perfect. It had a double zipper. Normally this would be a wonderful thing. It enables the wearer to zip it from the bottom as well as the top. The first time I put the coat on I didn’t zip it. The next time I wore it, I went to zip it and couldn’t. I tried it several times and couldn’t get the zipper to stay together. I held on to the bottom and tried again. No luck.

 This was a little embarrassing and more than a tad annoying. I took the coat off, laid it on the couch and zipped it right up with no problem. Clearly, the zipper was working just fine and the problem was me. I decided that the issue was clearly mine, and not really an issue at all. At fifty-four years old I was quite comfortable with my ability to zip. I would just ignore it and so the coat got hung in the closet until it was needed. Six weeks later, I am getting ready for work at 6:30 am. and I couldn’t get the zipper to work. At this point I am getting a tad frantic. I have a train to catch. There is no time to play with the zipper. My oldest son, who is twenty-six, offered to help. Since frenzy is now if full bloom, I accepted his offer. He had no problem zipping it. Again, it is my zipper issue. I thought about the dilemma all the way to work. I decided not to unzip the coat to take it off just in case I couldn’t rezip it. I closed my office door even though there was no one there but me. You never know when someone will come walking in with me holding my coat over my head. It was as ugly as I thought it would be. I slid it up over my head, my shirt riding up, and my hair looking like I had just towel dried it. Thankfully no one else had to witness the non-zip un-coating.

 It was at the moment that I was slipping it over my head that I decided that I would not be undone by a zipper. I would practice zipping. I get the absurdity of the situation. A grown woman should not have to practice zipping. However, I am determined. This zipper will not get the best of me. I practiced. Several times. I laid the coat down and practiced it. Up, down, zip, repeat, up, down, zip. I had mastered it while it was laying flat on the couch. It never occurred to me that the problem was happening only while I had the coat on. I just couldn’t zip the coat when it was on. I tried different ways to zip it while wearing it. After many tries, I settled on a method that I like to call “the choking coat method”. It requires putting the coat on, pulling both sides up to your chin, holding both sides very tightly and then getting the zipper started. Once the zipper is started you pull the coat down in the normal position and zip the rest of the way. All in all, it was humiliating but the coat was gorgeous and worth it. I thought I would gradually get the hang of the zipper.

After my newly found coat zipping confidence, I decided to wear the coat to work. Not only did I wear the coat to work, but I unzipped it and hung it up like a normal coat. Unfortunately at the end of the day, I couldn’t get the zipper to work. I even tried the “choking coat method” to no avail. I wore the coat home unzipped and held together with the snaps and fuming the entire way. Did I mention the fuming? When I got home, I googled the coat and zipper. As it turns out it was a double zipper but this was not the problem. It was a zipper on the left side of the coat. There had been several hundred complaints about the zipper in this coat. There had been so many complaints that there was instructions on how to zip the coat on the website. I was vindicated! Clearly I was not a coat idiot. My joy was short-lived. I still did not have a workable winter coat. This coat was going back. Hubby was not happy but understood. He had put a lot of thought into the purchase. My son assured him that he had the pleasure of watching me practice the zipping, having to zip it for me, and watching me take it over my head to get it off and that the coat should be returned. I repackaged it and my son took it to the shipping store and sent it back. A few days from then would be Black Friday. I found another coat that didn’t have the left sided double zipper. It was half price. I bought my new coat. All seemed right with the world. It was getting really cold, snow was on the way and I was ready.

 I wore my new coat to work. It was wonderful. It was warm, long, easy to zip and unzip, waterproof and everything I wanted. A few weeks later, I had an allergy attack. After a week of self-medicating I went to the doctor. She said it was all allergies. She asked if I had done anything different. Did I eat any new foods or get any new clothes? Excuse me? New clothes you say? Like my new down, super warm, long, waterproof coat? Apparently I am allergic to down. My husband reminded me that twenty years before we had gotten a beautiful, white, down comforter that we had to put in the attic because I was allergic to it. The doctor suggested that I not wear the coat for a week, and see if the problem resolves itself, wear it again and if the problem recurs it is the coat. I did and it was. I hate it when that happens.

Coat number two was returned to the store. They were very understanding and sympathetic. I was not happy. Store number two did have a down alternative. It is called “The Insulator”. I swear. It is pretty much exactly the same as coat number two except it has no down. It has some sort of super secret synthetic insulation. Needless to say, I ordered it right there in the store. They will ship it for free to my house. This is turning out better than I thought. By the time I got home, there was an email waiting for me telling me that my “Insulator” coat order had been processed and should I want to add anything to the order I had until ten pm that night to do so for free. The mail had also come and lo and behold a catalog from the same store had arrived. There was a silk and knit shirt on sale. It was 16.99 marked down from 60. I ordered two of them. They were sort of a consolation prize for the coat aggravation. Finally, the Insulator arrived. I have never been as excited to get a coat, as I was to get The Insulator. It is long, warm, covers all body parts needed, has a huge hood, is waterproof, has a manageable zipper and no down. Of course it was 50 degrees this week but I am wearing it anyway. Insulate away.  Apparently The Insulator keeps you warm from 45 degrees to minus 10 degrees. What’s 5 degrees among friends?  I was anxious to put the whole humiliating, unable to zip, give myself an allergy attack, and get a new coat incident behind me. I know that there are other women who have suffered with the inability to zip but even knowing that, I still felt that this was clearly a reflection on me. Right up until I was having a conversation with my sister in law. I was complaining about being unable to zip and unzip the coat, having to send the coat back and then the bombshell. She has one of these coats and can’t zip hers either. She tried it a few times and gave up. She makes her husband zip the coat. Of course they are retired so it may not be the problem for her that it is for me. She just doesn’t wear the coat unless he is available. My husband and I are not retired and unfortunately work the same shift so he is generally not available to accompany me to work to zip the coat. I looked for a support group or at the least an instructional class, Zipping 101 but there are none. I am wondering if I started one how many women would show up? Perhaps I could make a part time job out of it or maybe a new career. I could see an infomercial. I envision only 29.99 for the secret of zipping, and if you buy it in the next thirty minutes free shipping. I guess I should start practicing again.