White Jacket Required (5 page)

Cooking oil spray

½ pound lean ground turkey

1 egg, lightly beaten

½ teaspoon sea salt

1 teaspoon Old Bay seasoning

1 red bell pepper, chopped

2 slices cheddar or pepperjack cheese (optional but delicious)

2 hamburger buns, toasted (preferably whole wheat)

Ketchup or hot sauce

Preheat the oven to 400°F and grease a cookie sheet.

Arrange the sweet potato slices in one layer on the sheet and sprinkle with sea salt and cayenne. Spray fries with vegetable oil spray and bake for 30 minutes, turning each fry over midway through baking.

In a large bowl, combine the turkey, egg, salt, Old Bay seasoning, and bell pepper. Mix thoroughly either with your hands or with a spoon until everything comes together and is combined well. Form into two even patties.

Cook the burgers in a nonstick skillet over moderate heat until cooked through, about 7 minutes per side. Top each with a slice of cheese and cook two minutes longer, allowing the cheese to melt.

Remove from heat and serve on toasted buns, topped with desired accompaniments. Serve with hot sweet potato fries and plenty of ketchup and hot sauce.

4
WORKING GIRLS

T
HE NEXT DAY I DUG OUT MY FAVORITE CASUAL BLACK DRESS
from my suitcase, put on some makeup, and declared to Helen that I wasn't coming back until I had a job. She just nodded, ate her cereal, and continued to watch Paula Deen make cornbread.

I didn't really have a set list of places that I wanted to go, but I figured Orlando was a huge resort town with tons of restaurants, and I had plenty of experience waiting tables from my teenage years. I also figured that the fact I was about to start culinary school could only help my case, although I had no desire to actually work in the kitchen. All I was looking for was a nice, safe hostess position—something with hours that would work with my school schedule and still allow me to go home from time to time to see Rob and my family.

I drove over to Sand Lake Road, an area in Orlando known for its many restaurants, cafés, and shops. Disney World is only three miles away, and the whole community pretty much survives on tourism alone. As I drove under the interstate overpass, I saw throngs of tourists waiting for buses into the theme park, sunburn lines crisscrossing their backs. I had never lived in a city of this size before, and Orlando sometimes scared me with its crowds and constant bumper-to-bumper traffic.

I pulled into the parking lot at what appeared to be a busy and popular outdoor shopping center and scanned the restaurants. There was a high-end steak place, a sushi restaurant, a Middle Eastern café, and a Hawaiian restaurant named Roy's. I recognized the name and walked in. The restaurant was empty except for the chefs working behind the line of the open-air kitchen. Aromas of ginger and grilled meat permeated the restaurant's main room, and suddenly, I found myself very hungry.

“Are you here for Tony?” a deep voice shouted from the back.

“I'm, ummm, here to apply for a job. Do you know where I can find the manager?” I asked.

A small, middle-aged man dressed in a white chef coat came out of the kitchen. “Yeah, Tony. He's the owner. He just went around the corner for a coffee, but he should be back any minute. I'm Andrew, the head chef here. Why don't you take a seat? He shouldn't be long.” Andrew handed me a menu to look at and gestured to a booth.

“Perfect. Thank you. I'm Jenna, by the way,” I said as I took the menu and sat down to wait. Not five minutes later, Tony burst through the door, talking loudly on his cell phone and holding a tray of coffees.

“I don't care what she says. This is MY RESTAURANT and I MAKE THE RULES.” He slammed his phone shut and muttered profanity under his breath. Feeling anxious now, I cleared my throat and thought about how he reminded me of my Basic Skills 1 chef-instructor, with whom I had spent three long hours earlier that day.

“Who are you?” Tony demanded. “Please tell me you're not here to sell me more wine; I thought I told Southern not to send me any more reps!”

“I'm Jenna. I'm here to apply for a hostess position,” I said hesitantly. I handed him my resume, which I had worked on the night before, making sure all my college honors were listed, as well as my volunteer experience and past restaurant jobs.

Tony stopped then and looked me up and down. “What's your name?” he asked again. He spoke with a thick Boston accent. He was short and balding, with the authoritative air of an ex-police officer, but he was dressed in board shorts and a faded T-shirt with surfboards on it.

“Jenna,” I repeated. “I'm about to start culinary school down the street, and I'm just looking for something about sixteen hours a week.”

Tony stared at me and took a long sip of his coffee. “You're going to school to be a chef but you want to work as a hostess? How about on the line or back with the pastry girls?”

“Well . . . ” I began, “I'm actually going to school to be a food writer, not a chef. I want to write restaurant reviews and cookbooks and just thought . . . ”

Tony cut me off. “You work weekends?” he asked while scribbling down notes on his yellow legal pad. Though I really wasn't thrilled about the idea of working weekends, I knew he wouldn't hire me if I said no.

“Yep. I'd prefer not to work Sundays, though, because I usually go to church,” I said. I hoped that Tony would at least grant me Sundays free so I could drive home late Saturday night if I wanted to.

“Hmmmm . . . right. So you're a church girl, huh?” Tony looked straight at me and raised his eyebrows. “Well, to be honest, I don't really need any more part-time hostesses right now, especially those that aren't one hundred percent available, but you've got a good resume, so I guess I'll give you a try. Just don't disappoint me.” He told me that Tim, one of the managers, would be in touch, and I left the restaurant quickly, excited for my new job but at the same time intimidated and anxious.

When I got home, Helen was making goulash. Aromas of paprika and cooked meat filled the air, and my mouth began to water. “Well?” she asked. “How'd it go?” I pulled out the bar stool and sat down. “I got a job!” I said. “I'm not quite sure when I start, but they said one of the managers would be in touch.”

“Hey, that's awesome! Congrats! I talked to my job, too; you'll never guess my hours!”

She told me they were starting her off with the all-night shift, meaning she'd just be getting back from work when I woke up for school in the morning. I had a feeling that our year wasn't going to be quite the crazy dream we had both envisioned a few months ago over lunch. I hated to think about Helen out there on the streets busting the bad guys—this was a girl who tried to save hurt animals when we were kids. Still, I knew I would support her and that we'd make the best of it.

A few days later, I started at Roy's. I made the rookie mistake of wearing my favorite black pumps and dress that first night, and spent the entire time in pain from the giant blisters that formed all over my heels. Tables constantly needing clearing, and families waited in line out the door to be seated. I quickly learned that succeeding in this job would require being good under pressure and being quick on my feet. The time I went home depended on how many tables were still occupied in the restaurant, but I could usually sweet-talk Tim into letting me head out after I seated the last one, rather than waiting for only three tables to be left like Tony made me do. On the average night, I usually took off around ten o'clock and tried to be asleep by eleven, so I could still manage six hours of rest before my alarm blasted at the crack of dawn. And, of course, right as my alarm was going off, Helen was pulling in from another long night at the police department.

The other two hostesses, Laura and Carol, became good friends of mine. Both were around my age and working their way through school like I was. Laura was pursuing her MBA at the University of Central Florida. She had been working at Roy's for three years and seemed to know all the restaurant's ins and outs. Carol, on the other hand, had been working at Roy's part-time for a year and a half to supplement the income she made at her nine-to-five job, which was in business development. Like Laura, Carol was sweet and genuine, and we could always make each other laugh. Right after I started, Carol surprised us all by getting married to a marine after a three-month whirlwind romance. As soon as I spotted her ring, a small but lovely diamond on her left hand, I gasped out loud because I knew Carol was as single as they come.

“What in the world is THAT?” I asked loudly one night, grabbing her hand, after we had worked together for a couple months.

Carol blushed bright red. “Well, I, um, got engaged! No one knows yet, though, so don't tell Tony. It's kind of a secret.” Some secret, with her ring sparkling under the restaurant's bright lights.

“I had no idea you were even dating anyone . . . this is crazy! Congratulations!” I always loved hearing proposal stories and secretly wondered what and when my own would be. Carol's was extremely special though, and she recounted it to Laura and me one night after most of the tables in the restaurant were empty and things were winding down.

“It all happened about two months ago,” she began, still blushing. “I was on my way home from Atlanta for a conference and was about to board my plane when I looked across the terminal and saw a really cute guy in a marine uniform. I know it sounds corny, but at that moment our eyes locked and I just knew! Both of our flights ended up being delayed, and when I was sitting in Starbucks he came and found me and we talked for about two hours. We exchanged numbers and email addresses, and when I finally got home that night I saw that he had already emailed me . . . and somehow it just went from there!” Laura and I were completely enthralled by her story and we ended up chatting about it until the time we clocked out and went home.

Kicked-up Turkey Meatloaf

Serves 6

Truth be told, I have never liked meatloaf. Until, that is, I tried making it with turkey instead of the traditional beef, pork, and veal mix. Mushrooms and lentils jazz things up a bit, and you'll love sandwiches made with leftovers the next day.

½ tablespoon olive oil

1 large onion, diced

1 large carrot, diced

2 cloves garlic, minced

2 cups mushrooms, chopped

1 cup cooked black or green lentils

1 teaspoon salt

¼ teaspoon freshly ground black pepper

1½ teaspoons Worcestershire sauce

¼ cup ketchup

¾ cup panko breadcrumbs

⅓
cup milk

1 pound lean ground turkey

1 egg, lightly beaten

For the glaze

2 tablespoons ketchup

1 tablespoon pure maple syrup

1 tablespoon balsamic vinegar

Preheat the oven to 400°F and grease a loaf pan.

In a large skillet, heat olive oil over medium-high heat until hot but not smoking. Add the diced onion and sauté until soft and translucent, about 6 minutes. Add the carrot and garlic and cook for 3 minutes. Add the chopped mushrooms and cook until all vegetables are softened, about 5 more minutes. Remove the pan from the heat and transfer the mixture to a large bowl. Add the cooked lentils, salt, pepper, Worcestershire sauce, and ketchup and mix well.

In a small bowl, combine the panko breadcrumbs and milk. Let sit for 3 minutes so the crumbs can absorb a little of the milk. Add to vegetable mixture.

Add ground turkey and beaten egg and mix well with your hands. Transfer to the loaf pan and press down to smooth top.

Combine the ingredients for the glaze and pour over top of meatloaf. Spread with a spoon to cover the top. Bake for 55 minutes or until a meat thermometer reads 165°F.

Homemade Baked Beans

Serves 2 hungry girls

This is, by far, one of the most praised recipes on my blog, and for good reason! Maple syrup, dry mustard, and hot sauce provide spicy sweetness for this country classic. For a meal in one dish, add hot chicken sausage to the beans before baking.

½ tablespoon extra-virgin olive oil

½ large yellow onion, chopped

3 cloves garlic, minced

8 ounces tomato sauce

2 tablespoons pure maple syrup

1 tablespoon ketchup

1 teaspoon dry mustard

1 teaspoon hot sauce

½ teaspoon sea salt

1 (15-ounce) can cannellini beans, drained and rinsed

1 bay leaf

Preheat the oven to 350°F.

In a cast-iron or nonstick skillet, heat the olive oil until hot but not smoking. Add the onions and sauté until soft and translucent, about 5 minutes. Add the garlic and sauté 30 seconds more.

Add the tomato sauce, maple syrup, ketchup, ground mustard, hot sauce, and sea salt, and simmer for 5 minutes.

Add the beans and bay leaf. Stir, then cover the skillet with aluminum foil and bake for 45 minutes, stirring halfway through the baking process.

Allow the beans to cool for about 10 minutes. Serve warm.

5
RUNNING ON EMPTY

A
FTER ABOUT THREE WEEKS OF LIVING IN ORLANDO,
I started to run. I figured that it was the best way to beat the “Cordon Bleu fifteen” that Rhonda had warned me about. Throughout my life, I'd never had a weight problem at all. I had been blessed with a good set of genes and simply never developed a taste for junk or fast food. I always preferred food that was as natural as possible, whether that came in the form of a creamy wedge of Brie or a perfectly ripe fig. I loved simple, honest food and believed everything could be enjoyed in moderation . . . especially rich, classic desserts. That being said, I still liked to take care of myself, and exercise had always played a very important role in my life.