One day I conquered one of my biggest fears, just like that. Poof, all gone. And that day was today. 2 weeks ago today I decided to stop screwing around and actually get some real restaurant experience. So I went in and trailed a chef. I did hardly anything. I plated some cheese, washed some dishes, and mostly watched him. Last Tuesday I made my second appearance. After plating more cheese/bread boards, working on knife skills (mincing garlic and the like), and hiding from regular customers, I was given food to eat and a mop to clean the floors with. Then I was told that the 3rd weekend in October he would be gone and it would be my debut as solo chef lady. Uhh shit! I started paying attention and then showed up on Wednesday night to try my hand cooking a thing or two off of that week’s menu.
That was really smart on my part because he was sick tonight. As in can’t work, crazy fever sick. So the owner sent him home and smiled at me. Double shit! I hadn’t even looked at the this week’s menu. Please God don’t let there be seafood. Shrimp and scallops with herbs in broth. Perfect. I hate cooking scallops they’re so easy to screw up. It was only the most expensive thing on his menu. Great.
Since people seemed to only be ordering cheese boards (it’s a wine bar with a tasting menu) I starting rummaging around the fridge. I found about 2 pounds of bacon starting to turn a little off color. So I decided to salvage it and cooked all of it. The problem with that idea was that it smelled like heaven and made people hungry. Then came 3 orders of pork tenderloin, an order of the damn scallops, and a beet/apple salad. To calm my nerves I ate bacon, a lot of bacon. It worked like a charm. I was so subdued from pork fat that I couldn’t be nervous.
The owner told me that even the malevolent French woman smiled for the first time in history. She did smirk beforehand “what iz zhere only one pan in zee kitchen?” Honestly I wasn’t that slow, but maybe I’ll hold off on some of the bacon in a few weeks when I go solo again. And also don’t the French like their meals served in courses and slowly? Perhaps Madame was an imposter. God, I feel really sick right now, but happy I rocked my first service.
My almost 4 year old has just started a different preschool. Recently she came home and announced, “McDonald’s has chicken with poop in it”. Followed by, “does McDonald’s chicken really have poop in it?” Her father and I simultaneously said, “probably” without thinking about it. Then I thought about it and felt frustrated. She never even knew that McDonald’s existed until last week. Sure, I think McDonald’s is complete crap on so many levels but it had always been a non-issue for our family because we don’t eat there.
This is where so many well meaning parents and educators go wrong while teaching little ones about food in my opinion. At her previous preschool they taught the children “growing food” and “junk food”. Sounds good right? Well it became confusing. They were required to eat their growing food before they could have their junk food. It was the rule. The problem I had with that was the teachers decided that her peanut butter and jelly sandwich was growing food and her applesauce was junk food. Applesauce is far more nutritious than jelly as far as I’m concerned, but I decided not to press it.
Then came all the questions, “is this junk food? is this….is this”. Finally I tried to put an end to it and said “there’s not really junk food but rather sometimes food.” Ice-cream makes it on the list as a sometimes food and strawberries can be an everyday food. Balanced eating is a much better approach than making foods bad. I far too often eat desserts not because I want it, but because I was taught to think of them as high calorie forms of naughtiness. And maybe it’s naughtiness that I need especially after 8 years of a deeply committed marriage and 4 years of striving to be a peaceful parent. But I wish I had been taught at an early age that release can come in the form of aggressive exercise or scheduling a massage. It’s dessert that’s my drug of choice and I must remind myself daily to think of it as a sometimes food.
McDonald’s is completely evil, no doubt. Bad Bad Bad. But that’s not the message I feel my kids should get because it only sparks interest. The last thing I want my daughter to eat when she’s depressed or worried is chicken with poop in it.
What if in the future a waiter were to see a nursing mother and offer her a stool instead of a blanket (to cover up) like Applebees is considering? Imagine a stack of nursing stools propped next to the stack of high chairs at your favorite eatery. If I have my way it will happen as soon as possible. Our country’s dismal breastfeeding rates will increase when attitudes change. Babies will become healthier making the world a happier place.
You can help! Email me at breedakahlo@gmail.com
Tell Breeda Kahlo your experiences both positive and discriminatory and let’s make this vision a reality.
If you’re hungry next Saturday (September 8th) you might consider going to Hooters for lunch. But first drive by Applebees and honk your horn in support of the national nurse-out/nurse-in or better yet make a witty sign and go stand up for a baby’s right to eat. That’s right, you read it correctly, I am endorsing Hooters as a family-friendly restaurant. A few months back in Kentucky a woman left an Applebees crying (and without her meal) to nurse her baby in the car. Despite the fact that she chose a booth in the back of the restaurant so she could nurse her baby while waiting for her own meal, she was asked to cover up. With no blanket handy they told her she’d have to cover or leave.
Even though KY has a law that states a woman has the right to feed her child anywhere she’s allowed to be, the manager said the comfort of his customers was his priority. Wow, I didn’t know you can break a law on account of people finding it uncomfortable or offensive. When my kids are crying in the back seat next time, I’ll just race through that school zone so I can get home faster. My comfort is a top priority and apparently that’s how the restaurant manager sees it too. The law mentions nothing about a woman having to cover up. And let’s get real here, most babies hate being covered. I lose my appetite too in hot humid environments, like say under blankets. And if you’re a complete bigot about to comment on my blog (first thanks, I love comments of all kinds) and suggest she go to a bathroom to nurse, try eating your plate of hot wings sitting on the john. I won’t complain if you use the fold down changing table.
Breastmilk is amazing because the taste changes depending on what a woman eats. So often even a newborn can get a whiff of a deep fried appetizer and say “waaaah”, meaning “I’m hungry please feed me,” even though Precious has never tried the boneless burritos or beer battered cheese nibblets before.
The multi-franchise owner (Thomas and King) had their lawyer send a letter stating that the company is considering having blankets handy to give out to women, who don’t have them, to avoid this situation. That’s really pretty gross, who’s going to clean those blankets? And with what sort of detergent? What if little Tommy is allergic to Tide?
Why doesn’t she just pump a bottle you ask? Well, pumps are expensive, are they going to hand those out too? And sometimes women can’t pump. It can be a lot more painful than a soft baby mouth. Then we’re back to the comfort issue. What if little darling won’t take a bottle? It happens, especially if they smell mama around. OR what if mama can’t pump the same quantity that the nursling can extract?
Honestly, the only time I’d consider going to Applebees would be to protest. Before today it would have been to protest the taking of frozen crap food and deep frying it and charging people $10 a plate.
I did a little experiment of my own last night. I thought of a pretty conservative place, Lubbock, TX and called up the fancy new Hooters off of Loop 289 and Slide Road. Sure, it’s possible that people nurse their children in Lubbock, but I’ve never seen it firsthand and I lived in the area for 19 years.
“Thank you for calling Hooters Lubbock blah blah blah.”
Me: “Hi, I was just curious to know if you guys have a breastfeeding policy?”
Super nice girl on the other end: “Uhhhh I’ll have to check on that.” Hold music (”I’ve got hooters on my mind la la la la la”) Perfect!
A different woman, Lexi, is given my call and explains to me that she’s from the home office. She tells me that there’s no policy on breastfeeding. “You’ll probably cover up that little head right,” she asks.
Me: “Well she’s 5 months old and doesn’t like to be covered but it’s not like I’m going to take out my boob and show everyone around me before I feed her.”
Her (in a much more personable tone): “You know what, you do what your family feels is right, use your discretion, I’m sure it’ll be fine.”
So then I call up Applebees in Austin (where we live). I purposefully pick the closest location to Central Austin where the dirty hippie mamas often do these “bizarre feeding acts”.
“Thank you for calling Applebees yadda yadda yadda” says unassuming young man.
Me: “Hi, do you have a policy on breastfeeding at your restaurant?”
Him: “I’m sorry?”
Me: “If I come to eat there with my family, can I breastfeed my baby?”
Him: “If you cover up with a blanket then there shouldn’t be a problem, but there’s no policy I know of.”
Me: “OK thanks.”
So while the responses aren’t “you go girlfriend, good for you that you are providing the food nature (if you’re in Lubbock, God) intended,” I was surprised to learn that Hooters in a very conservative town came out the winner over Applebees in much more progressive Austin.
Also Lexi scored a few extra points for Hooters when she used the word “family”. Because this isn’t about me having the right to nurse, it’s about my baby having the right to eat. Breastfeeding awareness and acceptance isn’t a woman’s issue, it’s a family issue. We humans didn’t secure a place in the Mammal category because of formula. Plus Applebees gets a big point deduction for giving a toddler a sippy cup full of MARGARITA in June, even if it was an accident. After throwing up and a sleepy trip to the hospital, the little guy bounced back from the tequila tango. Top shelf tequila for a toddler on June 14th, OOPS. Breastfeeding a baby uncovered on June 15th, NOT ACCEPTABLE. Gotcha.
So Hooters in Lubbock, ironically I will be in your area this weekend. If I can convince Nana and Granddad to eat with me and my girls at your location, I might just buy a t-shirt after my meal. Does Hooters sell nursing tops?
My time that is. When I came up with the idea of writing this blog last December I knew it was doomed from the start. Whenever an idea comes, the following thoughts are why it won’t work. But this was different. I knew it was a good idea. The problem is that parenting and eating well and dining out are all very broad subjects.
The original plan was to encourage parents and children to help me review restaurants. I still very much love the idea of cataloging the adventures that are had while eating with children. Their senses are sharper and therefore can be better at discerning flavors if given the chance. Plus they often drop things and crawl under table to retrieve. So they certainly see things from a much different perspective.
Then my life became centered around breastfeeding. I breastfed my first child successfully and it never occurred to me that problems would arise with my second. As soon as I retrieved my baby from the floor (that’ll be a whole other post someday) and breathed life into her, our new family of 4 crawled into bed and we welcomed her as she nursed for over an hour and a half. Perfection.
Then for the next 2 months after that, my little human and I couldn’t get it down. Literally. It was horrible and after much crying from both of us we finally learned how to work together. It’s one of the most intimate and sacred experiences to prepare food for another person. To actually make it with your body is even more so and much more emotional for both parties.
A good friend of mine gave me a tip for nursing in public. The idea was so brilliant I asked her if we should market it to the masses. She, being another lover of all things material, agreed that it might just pay our “mamas who lunch” bills someday. Not long after we started our humble planning and research, my friend since 6th grade calls me up to tell me she’s been fired for breastfeeding her child while at work (since this is a legal matter I cannot elaborate at this time). This has led to lots of anger and hours spent online researching laws and reading about families who have been discriminated against for how they feed their children. So many stories of restaurant discrimination have come up.
So what’s a girl to do? I am currently trying to get a better idea of what it is I should be doing with my energetic anger on behalf of my friend. One of my dreams would be to start a non-profit organization to promote breastfeeding friendliness in restaurants nationwide. Although she didn’t work in the food business, it’s what I’m most comfortable tackling, I suppose. So for now I, like many pubescent boys, am only thinking about breasts. And that’s where I’ve been since July.
“Plenty of highchairs but no changing table” says Becka (fellow breeder and friend). Hmm I don’t know how they do it in Thailand but in the USA we prefer a table to plop our babies on. Regardless, they make a mean pad thai. While pregnant with Violet I got one of the worst colds I’ve ever had. Dan went to MM’s and got me some pad thai with chili. You have to request it but I swear by it as a cure. My temperature raised 2 degrees while eating it (I took my temperature before the first bite and then during the meal) and I think it helped kill off whatever was plaguing me.
The heartburn that followed was off the chart but it was worth it. In fact I would change a baby in my lap in the car to eat there. The above photo is from the Guadalupe location but I prefer Westgate because it’s more accessible and kid friendly. A word of caution regarding thai chilis…don’t eat with your hands. When we were cooking up such dishes in culinary school I noticed some of my chef-mates were wearing gloves. I laughed at them and taunted them for their wussiness but soon found out that the joke was on me. My fingertips began to burn as soon as my knife touched the skin of the pepper. I left class that day with blistered hands.
Do NOT feed this dish to children unless you want to introduce them to the concept of hellfire. You will probably end up in court soon thereafter.
but I guess there are some people that didn’t get that memo. I find that surprising in a world where US Weekly is one of the most read “news” sources available. Almost every cover features Angelina or Brittney with a kid or 2 dangling off of them. As far as we know every human adult started out as a baby. So what’s with all the haters out there?
I just came across an article about the increasing use of kid-free zones. Restaurants and beaches are starting to either segregate kiddos and their families or exclude them altogether. When Camilla was just under 2 years old a friend of mine invited me to join her at Saba Blue Water Cafe for happy hour appetizers and a drink. I opened the front door holding Camilla, who was asleep in my arms, and was told to wait there. The host went to the back and then returned to inform me that they stopped allowing kids inside but would make an exception. I was still puzzled when I ordered my mojito . It never occurred to me that I wouldn’t be allowed in a food establishment at 4 in the afternoon, especially in a place with the word cafe in the name.
When she woke up she tried my ceviche and loved it. She really really loved it. I don’t know very many kids that devour raw shrimp marinated in citrus juice, but how often are they given the opportunity? I have always seen her mouth as my palate (no pun intended), my blank slate. She was well behaved and I would have left if a tantrum ensued. The point is, this was 2 years ago and I’m still thinking about the mini gastro-adventure we went on that day. The problem with not allowing children at all is that well-behaved ones miss out too.
It wasn’t very far back in history that certain groups of people weren’t allowed in restaurants. Seriously, maybe kids really are the new Black after all. How could anyone deny these darlings gourmet fare?
I imagine this is the sort of place Rachael Ray would visit because it’s easy on the wallet. She would probably eat a bite of something and annoyingly close her eyes and say “mmmm” and then I would vow to never go there because I would be covered in my own vomit by the end of the show. Fortunately for my family and me this is a hypothetical situation and we did in fact eat there Monday for lunch.
After working up an appetite playing on the beach I realized that I needed fish tacos immediately. Mexican seafood is not something I generally crave so I was surprised by my belly’s inner dialogue. We drove up and down Seawall Blvd. in search of my request. Finally I saw the word fish tacos painted on a building and we parked. When we walked in I was sure we’d made a mistake. It looked like the kind of place that appeals to the gray-haired set. Sort of Luby’s-esque.
Our server (which is more PC, server or waitress?) was fabulous! She was above and beyond. I didn’t even see her put the bread on the table but when I looked up to give her my drink order it was there. The butter was just melted enough to spread easily. I knew the ultimate test would come when I would order the $7.95 fish tacos since it was one of the cheapest things on the menu. Dan ordered fried mahi-mahi fingers (daddy version of fish sticks) and his came with a bottomless salad. He was upfront and announced he wouldn’t eat it and would just pass it off to me. She then asked me what dressing I wanted while I squirmed in my seat sure we’d breached restaurant etiquette.
She recommended the house honey pecan dressing and for a good reason. It was freakin’ delicious. Even after I ordered off of the cheap side of the menu she offered us more bread. Camilla and I were fighting over pieces at one point. I tried to make the small piece appealing to her by calling it “baby bread”. Daniel chose a better entree than I did, but I happily ate almost all of mine. At one point the server asked me if I wanted more of the salad I shouldn’t have been eating. She offered to bring Camilla’s food out first and always appeared at the perfect time to refill a drink or take a plate. She even urged me to pack up Camilla’s leftovers for the car ride home.
You should definitely go to Casey’s because it rocks! Maybe you’ll get lucky enough to sit in Donna’s section. The only downside of our lunch experience was in the parking lot afterward. Camilla demanded that we only keep her sandwich and not the chips. I decided this was a battle definitely not worth fighting so I opened up the container and tossed the chips onto the pavement. 4000 seagulls instantly appeared from nowhere and crapped all over our car. It was very Alfred Hitchcock.
For a little over 2 years I’ve been in a fight with Kinky Friedman. So today when I saw him at Cisco’s eating breakfast with a pouty, young filly I was ready to square off. I didn’t realize it was him when we first sat down, but after a game of non-musical chairs directed by the 3 year old, I was facing him. We made eye contact and I gave him a little snarl and looked away. After filling my belly with some breakfast tacos I was in a better mood but still not smiling in his direction.
Honestly I think he was intrigued by my lack of excitement since he’s a bit of a local/statewide celebrity. OK maybe not, but what he did was WRONG. It all happened one morning in May of 2005. I woke up early and got Camilla (then 18 months old) dressed in a patriotic yet Japanese style dress. She and I drove to BookPeople with 4 vouchers for Bill Clinton’s “My Life”. Clinton was there to sign copies of the book.
The line was incredible. After 2 hours of waiting we were a little over half way through. Do you know what it is like to stand practically still for hours with a toddler in tow? Not recommended. A woman in front of me didn’t even have a voucher but she was hoping someone would get tired and sell theirs. It was hot and tiring but exciting to see the secret service walking around everywhere. Another hour passed and we were almost to the front door of the store when Kinky Friedman shows up with his campaign staff and friends. 30 people were ushered in in front of us. I wasn’t angry at this point because I almost was inside. That’s when the employee comes out and says they were cutting the line off. 8 people were in front of me. I was 8 people away from Bill Clinton. My daughter’s fair cheeks were red from the heat and I just hung my head. We were offered refunds but I managed to get 2 books that he had previously signed. That’s when I announced to the people around me (presumably all Democrats) that I would vote for Rick Perry before I vote for Kinky Friedman for governor.
I was going to tell Bill that I had been grounded for putting a Clinton/Gore bumper sticker on my mother’s car back in 1996. I was 17 and couldn’t vote at the time. He was going to laugh “ah ha ha” and tell me what a beautiful child I have. But oh no, that cigar-chewing, ugly vest wearing, fake cowboy had to wreck it for me by cutting in line.
So today I bit my lip and let him enjoy his breakfast in peace. When a woman approached him to ask if he’d pose with her family in a photo, he obliged. Then more people came for photos. I had my digital camera and for a second I was tempted. Both daughters of mine were in smiley moods. But I remembered the injury he caused and ignored the opportunity.
Camilla and I headed for the bathroom and he was gone when we came back to the table. Daniel told me that when he got up to leave, he came over to Violet, wagged his cigar at her and gurgled some sweet nothings. Oh no! He’s offering an olive branch. I accept Mr. Friedman. I guess now you could say I’m Kinky neutral. That’s what happens when a person crushes one of your dreams but then talks sweetly to the newest love of your life.
Daniel (breeding partner and spouse) and I traveled Northwest this weekend for my high school reunion. James McMurtry has a song about our town, but you probably have heard of it because the Loboette (girl wolves in Spanish) basketball team won the state championship like a million times. No? You don’t care about 4A school sports? Yeah me either, my letter jacket says journalism on it. But say you die and you were a horrible person and God or Buddha or Shiva or Allah decides that you must experience hell, you could end up there. What would you do for food?
I recommend Tienda’s Tortilla Factory over on Houston Street across from the First Baptist Church (FBC) where I used to spend many hours thinking impure thoughts. Tienda’s, as you can imagine, is a family owned joint that has lots of rumors of selling joints along with their food. You’re supposed to go to the drive thru and order a jalapeno burger and a diet coke, or so they say. But the breakfast burritos (not tacos, burritos) are pretty much the best in the world. They’re big and full of real eggs, bacon, chorizo, papas (potatoes) and/or cheese. The tortillas are made on site of course. They serve menudo to the loyal locals in the morning, but have lunch and dinner entrees scrawled on a dry erase board as well. AVOID the queso. Camilla, when she was age 2 exclaimed “that’s not queso” when it was put before her. I was beaming with pride when I looked down and saw a glop of cheez whiz in a little bowl. However, the chips and salsa are something to experience. The salsa isn’t spicy but has a distinct flavor. When I taste it I am flooded with memories of skipping class or hiding from church choir practice. The chips are seasoned with lots of salt and chili powder but there’s something else mixed in. I think it might be celery salt but whatever it is, it’s powerful—powerful like the mighty lobo on a hunt for a neighboring Frenship Tiger.
Tienda’s has highchairs, is nursing friendly, and the person manning the register might smile at your kid. It’s cheap and good. But when it comes time to pay they only accept cash or checks. I really think cash is the way to go especially if you aren’t sure how much is in your checking account. Our friend, treker meker, while in college got a call from the sheriff one evening and was told to report to the police station. He spent a good 4 hours in jail before he was told that months before he’d written a bad check at Tienda’s. He was never notified of the hot check and the tortilla factory owners just turned it over to the police. After pawning a television to clear his name he still went back there from time to time to eat, it’s that good.
If you’re bringing kids with you then you may want to pack a ziploc bag full of quarters. A sign in front reads “No quarters for the machine or carwash”. The carwash was obvious because it’s across the street next to the FBC, but we finally realized that in the other room there is a junk machine full of disney princess figurines that cost $1 in quarters. Ironically they also sell hemp bracelets.
I think they’ll be around for years to come. They’ve added on a room to the restaurant since my days at LHS even though the town’s population has decreased by a tenth.
