JLoeats.com

it was very interesting to be working in a soup kitchen in harlem yesterday,
given it was only my third time ever walking through harlem. scary, run down, ghetto. lack of funds, lack of value, and spirit. low morale, and just plain SAD.
down and out.
i almost grabbed one of those trays i was serving and wanted to shove it into my own face in desperation and solidarity, in silence, and in HUNGER

but what separated me from the crowd?
am i so different?
nope.
only thing that makes me different in this capitalistic society is that i have moneys in my account.
and that doesn’t mean much anywhere else outside of this realm.

that’s what i don’t like.
we talk about equality,
but there is none.
not in america.

we fight hard for it,
cuz the values of this country rests on is ridiculously fend for yourself kind of individualism.
its so inhumane,
and acts of charity and humanity are glorified, because it’s rare.
but it’s also very abundant, just as in the theory of american exceptionalism itself.

(Book: Sweet Charity? – Janet Poppendieck)
because people are also human. they like to feel.
and it’s so easy not to have to here.
to be a robot.
oh god,
all these things i feared whilst growing up.
it’s like facing my childhood demons everyday and fighting for who i don’t want to become. hahahaha

ick. puke puke puke.

but that was a tight ship, that kitchen,
but not run tightly, it was just tight-ass.
the poor ppl just wanted to be treated like people,
stop power trippin chef, eww
stop the “we don’t do this because of policy” bullshit.
so annoying
and that pissed me off.
i’m not against going back to volunteer,
i just don’t like how that place was run,
i need to find another ktichen to work in,
but i do smell an ‘exceptional’ midterm paper because i feel so strongly about it.
she can become my next project… hahaha
“Project!!” – clueless.

and again, you know me,
if i can’t fix it,
i leave.
it’s not mine to fix.
and i knew that,
so i just stayed quiet, and smiled,
at all those who just thanked me and god (i heard a lot of ‘god bless yous’ aww)
when i gave them a tray,
(out of order, omg i’m such a rebel, and i definitely pissed off the chef when i tried to FIFO that shit. wth,
i am a professional! hahaha)
and when i serve people, i aim to please. it’s not just work,
these people are teeple poo. (phrase made possible by a teeshirt i saw once online somewhere snorg or threadless)

and of course, my one random comment for the evening from a guest:
“WHAT NO MEAT?!”
i was stunned,
and silent for a good five seconds,
while the man starred me in the eye,
and i starred back,
shocked.
all i could muster up was
“no.”
hahaha, nervous laughter…inside and out
and he shook his head, took the tray, and walked away mumbling something to himself

i heard one crazy angry conversation about politics (awesome)
and most people where just silent, and hungry, and thankful,
who just simply needed a meal.

crack crack, *HEARTBREAK

ughh,

does emergency food help? when people are starving, down and out, they just want to be taken care of no? why do we still judge people even when we’re helping them?

i just saw a lot of sadness in eyes, and was frustrated when fellow volunteers and even the people of the day to day staff were less sensitive and laughed at certain ‘regulars’ with funny mannerisms, who seemed drugged out or drunk, or just simply physically less able.

i popped out of there when i finally couldn’t handle the power tripping from the lady in charge anymore, did my share of the clean up after the dinner was served and i jumped right onto the first and closest train out of harlem,
with ample time to get back downtown to campus.
i emailed my dad right away on my pda/phone, letting him know how grateful i am, that i have parents like him and momma,
while i shoved a slice of pizza into my mouth as the owner tried to make a business deal with me,
“catering to students, if you hook it up for me, i will hook it up for you anytime you come in to eat, *wink wink, yea?”

“hahaha, sure.”

as i grabbed my stuff, folded up my broken heart, counted my lucky stars, and jumped right into my African dance class down the street.

“Thank god i can now spend the next two hours of my life CELEBRATING LIFE, instead of feeling sorry for it and why-ing the crap out of all its inequalities.”
yes i know, it’s what i’m also really good at doing. ;)

dance gurl, just dannnnce,

and make sure you eat something yummy afterwards

so i did*

One of my favourite Thai places in the city, is a tiny hole in the wall on 9th st. and 1st Ave. called Tara Thai, (Sorry New York, nothing beats Thai food in Cali — if you’re ever in Hollywood, try Jitlada, still one of the best green curries i’ve have – ever)

i love that i was in my ‘hoodlum’ gear, dressed down to get dirty and work from the soup kitchen, with a hat and my perfectly sweaty post dance coif covering half of my face when i spotted a table for two in the tiny ten seater place.  The owner /host /server looked at me while pointing to the table and said “YOU! omg, it’s been a while!!”

hahaha, i LOVE that he remembered me.

it’s been two years, thanks Charlie. :) :) :) it’s nice to know that my patroness was missed.

i guess that’s how i wanted those people to feel in the soup kitchen. i’m sure they have enough on their plate, or lack of anything really. (i now know where most poplar euphemisms and coined everyday sayings come from! the more i study food in grad school, the more punny it’s becoming, har har)

point being,

i like to aim to please when i serve food, any kind of food.

food should be a celebration of life,

like in my dance class,

every bite should be a wonderous and magical moment,

at least i aim it to be,

and that’s what makes me so interested in the subject of FOOD*

Hunger, it’s the new muse.

just like how food should be like music…

xoxo Happy Appreciative Eating xoxo

-J