Focused at Fifty

As a child, I remember my mother was cooking in the kitchen on the stove, slowly stirring a small saucepan of Prego tomato sauce. I stood there right next to her, watching her intently. She moved the sauce onto a green avocado hot plate and turned off the electric burner, specifically warning me not to touch it as it was still hot. Being ever so precocious, I touched it immediately and howled in pain. For a good two weeks, I had first and second degree burns on my palm in the shape of the electric stove coils. You live and learn, right? Maybe not.  A waiter delivers my food in a restaurant and warns me that the plate is very hot as she puts it down in front of me. As soon as she leaves the table, I have this overwhelming urge to test her warning and touch it! I usually do and with my calloused fingers tips from decades of waiting tables, I laugh and scoff at her warning!  The other week I was baking these incredible triple chocolate brownies. For a split second, I forgot that ...

A bit ago, I was discussing a mutual acquaintance with someone and we talked about the very real issue of addiction among people we know. This acquaintance starts a job and then cannot follow through without whatever pain killer he takes. It eventually affects his ability to work and he just quits, unable to handle it. It was a sobering conversation. It was frank and uncomfortable.  The following blog is just my thoughts on the subject of addiction. At this juncture in my life, I am not looking for advice. Comments are always welcome.  I have complicated issues with alcohol. I've recently been pretty open about them. I don't look for sympathy from people. It is my own cross to bear. I will always have to watch what I drink. Something switches in me and I eventually become angry. I don't drink in the morning. I don't drink every day or night. I don't pass out from it at night. My issues stem from binge drinking so I have stopped doing the "shot" thing. No m...

"Unabashedly Marc" The other afternoon, I passed the mirror in the hallway and glanced ever so slightly and quickly to my left. I stopped short with a fright, thinking I had seen my father or mother, but no, in that instant it was me staring back. My father's eyes. My mothers nose, her face. My real father's gray beard. Wow... it was me!  I asked myself,  When did this happen? Well it happened, I sighed. I stopped into the bathroom for a closer look and I see myself looking back at me in the mirror. And I also see my mother looking back at me. My biological father Joseph's eyes. The beard I vowed I would never grow, as I felt like I would look like the man I most despised. And yet here I was, unable to escape looking like the man I hated and happily looking like the woman I most loved (well, besides my dear Sis Sher LOL.) 😊 It was a conundrum of sorts. Left me a bit shaken and confused as to my feelings. I eventually realized that there is no out running my looks...

I have had much to ponder about this past month, my 51st birthday month. This was a month which I was dreading all year long. It had nothing to do with the crazy Covid year. I quite simply was not looking forward to turning "51".  In retrospect, I was OK turning 30, 40, or 50. It was the year after which I had issues with. I think it's because it hit me that I was now in a new decade. I was 31, 41, or this year as the case may be, 51. It hits you and you realize, whelp ... there's no turning back now!  Another decade has sprung upon me! I was up in the new home in Maine this weekend, the Gardiner House as we call it. Built by Mr. Gardiner way back when in the late 1800s, it stands proudly with the test of time as well as a throwback to a far simpler time. it is not an overtly Victorian gingerbread but just a solid large farmhouse with an attached barn just a block from the town square. There is just a little gingerbread on the main side porch, suggesting a lace doily ...

One of my favorite memories growing up is the smell of onions being sautéed by my Mom in our kitchen. The smell eventually wafted through the house. If I was coming home from school, it was the first thing which greeted me walking through the side door. At that moment, I knew dinner was gonna be good!  To this day, this has been one of my favorite parts of a recipe, dropping those onions into a shimmering pan of oil, hearing them sizzle and smelling their strong flavor. For me, it's been the first sign of an delicious meal! In my two decades in the hotel/restaurant business, I have loved walking through the grand hotel kitchen, smelling the sautéing onions by a sous-chef on a huge ass stove for an upcoming banquet.  Here is the recipe I found online for caramelized onions which I have made several times. A couple people have asked me why does it take so long? Well the easiest and most basic answer I can say is that cooking them long and slow allows the naturally sweet onions t...

Marc and Sheryl, Partners in Crime! Back in 2010, my sister Sheryl surprised me with tickets to see a the New York City Broadway show "All About Me" starring the internationally famed drag queen Dame Edna and Broadway legend Michael Feinstein. We took an evening bus from Philly and we off for the Big Apple! Sher had arranged for us to stay at an upscale modern hotel across from the Port Authority bus terminal. It was a quick overnight stay followed up by brunch at the famous Broadway restaurant Joe Allen, the show itself and then perhaps a cocktail before taking the bus back to Philly.  We arrived late in the evening delayed by the constant traffic on the NJ Turnpike. Luckily, the hotel was right across the street from the bus terminal. The small lobby, though normal size by NYC standards, was clean and sleek.  Our room had the view of the terminal but no worries as this contemporary room had the most comfortable beds ever! The bathroom was kinda too modern. It was a mixture ...