Pizza

It’s a food we’ve all grown up with. Greasy, fattening, unhealthy, processed, pizza. But it doesn’t have to be. All food is not created equal, as pizza parties with people who care about good food, will exemplify. At a party this past weekend, friends summoned their culinary creativity in order to out-do each other’s pizza recipe. The results? Rosemary, potato and wild boar bacon pizza; smoked duck leg, chives, portabella and hoisin; the classic and ageless margherita; parmesan, pistachio, rosemary and red onion; lemon meringue, just to name a few of the pizza delights… On top of all that, excellent wine, a wide variety of micro-brewed beer, mouth-watering cod (the Newfoundland way) and the best friends a food-lover could hope for.

Another example of a simple food that can easily become a celebrated one with the right ingredients, careful preparation and a desire to do it well. I often forget how different this philosophy is from the way most people consume food. Then I’m invited to a franchise by a non-food-loving friend and am underwhelmed with bland, overcooked, sloppily prepared and uninspired food. I find myself trying hard to focus on the great company, so that the lacklustre food doesn’t ruin my night. Even though Edmonton has many hidden gems and a surprising variety of cuisine, there are at least 10 mediocre food establishments (they don’t deserve to be called restaurants) to each one.

With the first blizzard of the season well under way, the pizza party was the perfect escape from the winter that we have tried hard to forget over the past 8 months. It was also a pleasant reminder of the difference between a party that has food and a true celebration. Happy birthday, Chad!

Addiction

Hi. My name is Melanie and I have an addiction. To books.

Main Entry: ad·dic·tion

Pronunciation: \ə-ˈdik-shən, a-\

Function: noun

Date: 1599

1 : the quality or state of being addicted <addiction to reading>
2 : compulsive need for and use of a habit-forming substance (as heroin, nicotine, or alcohol) characterized by tolerance and by well-defined physiological symptoms upon withdrawal; broadly : persistent compulsive use of a substance known by the user to be harmful (http://www.merriam-webster.com/dictionary/addiction)

But not just to reading books. I love writing in books, collecting books, shopping for books, talking about books. When I’m not working or fulfilling the necessary social requirements to be considered “normal,” I’m inevitably burying my face into a book.

For most book-lovers, reading/writing provides an escape, or maybe even a simple emotion (elation, melancholy, indignation, curiosity). For me, the “need” actually manifests physically. How did I discover this? When one’s heart starts palpitating at the thought of purchasing a book, I think there’s enough evidence to satisfy number two of Merriam-Webster’s definition (above). For example, I went grocery shopping after work today and decided to go to the store that’s closest to Greenwoods bookstore, my favourite local bookstore for new books (I go to Alhambra, Old Strathcona Books, Broad Valley Books, amongst others, for used). Did I go because I had a specific book that I wanted to buy? No. Was I even certain I would visit Greenwoods? To be honest, I told myself that it was a bad idea because I’m trying to save money right now. My internal conversation also argued that I should probably go to a different grocery store altogether, to eliminate temptation.

I think it’s pretty obvious that I ended up at Greenwoods and left not empty-handed. sigh. Though I’m thrilled with my purchase (Keel’s Simple Diary in yellow), I probably could have waited until I actually had the spare cash to not feel guilty about my purchase. But, like any true addict, the craving had to be satisfied now!

My last purchase from Greenwoods was a novel called Galore, by Michael Crummey, a Newfoundlander. Three generations of two Newfoundlander families are the basis of this folkloric tale. If you love fiction, particularly historical fiction, this one’s a must-read. The writing is atmospheric, compelling, thoughtful and surreal. You would be forgiven if you couldn’t recognize the Canadian-ness of this story because Newfoundland culture is unlike any other. The language is different, the landscape awe-inspiring but cruel, the people practical and harsh, as much as superstitious and hospitable. The characters in Galore are almost out-of-this-world, but are also firmly rooted in their setting at the same time.

Today’s purchase, the diary, is a great option for someone who wants to keep a diary but a) is short on time, b) feels he/she is not thoughtful and maybe even a little bit silly, and/or c) does not know what to write about. Each page asks you questions about your day, as well as provides a daily thought. Before your eyes start glazing over, these aren’t just run-of-the-mill questions, or puke-inducing clichés; the Simple Diary endeavours for you to be thoughtful, as well as to not take yourself too seriously. For example, the page I chose to fill-out for today goes as follows:

Your day was (only choose one)

(  ) carefree.                              (  ) locked in.                           (  ) a drive-thru.

Explain why: ________________________________.

You indulge in: _______________________________.

It is not useful to entirely reinvent yourself after a difficult period of time.

Fortunately

1. trains are on tracks.

2. whiskey burns when it goes down.

3. there is the ritual of confession.

4. many countries are free

Unfortunately

1. Greenland got bad weather.

2. most in-laws have different opinions.

3. not everyone has a personal coach.

4. things come at a price.

Who is a silent friend? ____________

How could you not absolutely adore filling out such a thing? Fortunately, I now have a copy. Unfortunately, the original is on a bus somewhere, travelling through Spain .

Meditations on Customer Service

I’ve been working in customer service since my early teenage years and over time, I’ve come to realize that I’m totally confused by what this term means.

When I take away the barrage of information, opinions, mantras, and quotes that have accumulated over the years, what’s left, for me is quite simple: provide the customer with a quality product in a way that is knowledgeable, respectful and courteous. Tell me: is there anything more to it than this?

Apparently there is because teaching customer service is an industry! WHY?!?!?!?! I’ve experienced customer service in many different countries and contexts and there are definitely differences in what the people of a particular culture expect in terms of service. What doesn’t change is that at its core, service is about providing the customer with an experience where they can benefit or enjoy the product you are providing. It doesn’t mean building a friendship, giving a pep-talk, acting as a counsellor, boosting self-esteem, or becoming a personal assistant. If, in the process of repeated encounters, service-provider and customer become closer and a rapport is created, then yes, some of these lines become blurred. And of course, depending on the service you’re providing, you can expect to do more or less and have a more intimate or strictly professional relationship with your customer. However, when did it become culturally acceptable to ask customer service providers to alter their service/product to the point that its completely unrecognizable? Why is it okay to go into a store and expect the person behind the till to wait on your every whim?

I realize that when people spend their hard-earned money, they want to be treated as the individuals they are. But being treated with respect isn’t the same as being waited on hand-and-foot. If you’re going to a tailor to get a custom-fitted and designed piece of clothing, of course you’re going to expect that the tailor take such things as colour preference, your measurements, personal style and a specific cut into account; it comes with the service being rendered. At the same time, when you enter a clothing store, you don’t expect the salesperson to render the same services you received at the tailor’s.

What I’m getting at is this: consumerism is all about options and choice. If you don’t care about the quality of ingredients on offer at a restaurant and prefer the ability to modify everything about your dish, then eat at a cafeteria or franchise restaurant where you can expect unlimited options. If you’re looking for a meal that has been carefully constructed and thoughtfully cooked and presented, don’t be surprised when the server tells you “No, that’s not possible” when you ask to have that beautifully cooked piece of lamb charred black. If you don’t want the dish as it is; don’t order it. If you don’t trust that the chéf knows exactly how to execute her menu; don’t eat at her restaurant. No one’s putting a gun to anyone’s head to spend money. So don’t act personally insulted when you’ve entered a specialty shop and they don’t cater to exactly what you want.

Over the years, I’ve heard and participated in many conversations about the decline in service. I’ll be the first to admit that I’ve been a victim of terrible customer service. I’ve had dirty looks thrown my way; I’ve been ignored by salespeople who are too busy catching up on school gossip to help me; I’ve tasted horrible things that are being passed off as food. I’ve also had great service and memorable experiences at the hands of people who take pride in what they do. Have I received every specific thing I’ve requested? Topped with a fake smile and enthusiasm? No. I’ve definitely had my fair share of suggestions made that were contrary to what I originally asked for but communicated in a polite and professional manor. For the most part, my requests were turned down for my benefit because the speaker was an expert in rendering whatever it is I wanted, and was looking to provide me with the best experience possible. In the end, when you spend your money, don’t you want to receive the best that that business has to offer?

Laughter

A man may sometimes give himself away completely by his laugh: you suddenly know everything that lies beneath his outward appearance. Thus, even laughter that is unmistakably intelligent may have something repulsive about it. Laughter demands, above all, sincerity of people, but where does one find sincerity? Real laughter must be free of malice, while it is malice that makes people laugh mostly. Sincere laughter free of malice denotes gaity… A man’s way of being gay is perhaps the most revealing feature about him. A man may seem quite inscrutable, but if he bursts into sincere laughter, you’ll see his whole character as though you were holding it in the palm of your hand. Only superior and happy natures can radiate communicative gaiety, that is, be irresistibly and cheerfully gay. And when I say “superior,” I don’t mean intellectually superior but superior in character, as a whole human being. And so, if you wish to glimpse inside a human soul and get to know a man, don’t bother analyzing his ways of being silent, of talking, of weeping, or seeing how much he is moved by noble ideas; you’ll get better results if you just watch him laugh. If he laughs well, he’s a good man. You must, however, note all the shades of his laugh. Thus, it is not good if the laugh strikes you as in the least stupid, even if it’s completely sincere and unaffected. As soon as you notice a trace of stupidity in laughter, it indicates that the man is at least somewhat limited, even if he keeps dazzling you with all sorts of ideas. Or, even if his laugh doesn’t sound at all stupid but the man himself somehow becomes ridiculous when he laughs, it is an indication that he lacks, at least to a certain extent, personal dignity. Finally, even if the laugh is communicative but still somehow seems vulgar to you, you may rest assured that the man’s nature has vulgarity in it, that all the noble and refined traits you noticed in him before were either deliberately affected of unconsciously imitated, and that he will eventually change for the worse, devote himself to the pursuit of the “useful,” and discard without regret his noble aspirations as if they were mere delusions of youth. – Arkady Dolgoruky, The Adolescent, Fyodor Dostoevsky

Cupping coffee

One of the interesting things about Edmonton’s coffee culture is that people are really into brewed coffee. Unlike in Europe, Australia, New Zealand, etc., North-Americans are into non-espresso based coffee. While brewed coffee used to be bland and boring, the specialty coffee industry has elevated the humble cup of coffee to the ranks of great wine, tasty micro-brewed beer and fantastic spirits. But even amongst North Americans, there are vastly different ways of consuming coffee. In the big Canadian cities, you don’t see many people in cafés buying whole-bean coffee to consume at home; they buy their daily cup and are out the door. Edmonton coffee consumers have a real DIY attitude towards their coffee and the whole-bean sales we do at Transcend pretty much sustain everything else we do. Which makes it incredibly important that we have a constant supply of amazing single-origin coffees.

But how do we ensure that each roast is up to standard? We taste a lot of coffee. More specifically, we cup coffee every single day. For the uninitiated, “cupping” is a formalized coffee tasting process that provides a systematic method of comparing different coffees. Coffee is very nuanced: characteristics (flavour, mouth-feel, acidity, bitterness, etc.) can be easily altered by different brewing methods. Since cupping follows a specific process, some of these variables can be reduced so that a coffee’s true qualities can come through.

Our everyday cupping setup at Transcend

As I was cupping this past week, it struck me how much our coffees change. There are certain characteristics that are fairly consistent (e.g. our Brasilian coffees are consistently medium-bodied with sweet chocolate notes) but I was really surprised at what I was tasting in some of our other coffees. We always cup blind (i.e. we don’t know which coffee is in which bowl) so that our minds are as free of bias as possible. The reason I’m writing about all of this is because I’ve been thinking a lot about the seasonality of food more generally. I think we often forget that food items are prone to change because they are grown in nature; not manufactured. I love the fact that in some of the restaurants I frequent, certain dishes are not available due to the fact that the ingredients are out of season. What this usually means is that the chéf will come up with new fantastic-tasting dishes based on the ingredients that are available.

We are fortunate to have some very loyal customers at Transcend and many of them develop strong preferences toward certain coffees from specific origins/farms. The downside to this is that they expect “their” coffee to be available every single time they come in. I used to be puzzled by this, as my experience with coffee has always come from the perspective that it’s an agricultural product that is constantly changing. But I’m not a coffee drinker who is used to drinking store-bought coffee. I’ve only been drinking coffee for two-and-a-half years. So my experience with coffee is extremely privileged because it’s always been within the exacting parameters of specialty coffee, amongst people who are very passionate about what they do.

For consumers who have been coffee drinkers their whole lives and to whom specialty coffee is a new phenomenon, coffee is a product that has always been available at the supermarket. On top of this, it’s not like fruits and vegetables, which are sold in such a way that we are reminded that they are/were living things. No. Coffee is sold in tin cans, on shelves, in resealable containers. Of course people think of it as a manufactured product: there are no cues (visual or olfactory) that communicate that it came from anything but a machine, let alone a living plant.

While I was annoyed at not being able to recognize certain coffees on the cupping table that we’ve served for a long time, I was also reminded that we’re working with a product that is prone to such things as weather conditions, care in harvesting and processing of green coffee, care in packaging and shipment, and finally, the roasting process as determined by our roaster. You know, the kinds of things that (should) regularly impact that stuff we ingest into our bodies. I was also pleasantly reminded of just how fantastic our coffees do taste.

The lost art of writing

I received a post card this week from friends in Finland and it totally made my day. It wasn’t just the fact that they were thinking of me enough to write, it was the post card itself – the physical thing that I could hold in my hands – that made me smile. I’m sure you’ve experienced this too and probably reacted similarly. So why don’t more people write to each other?

Though I still write and receive hand-written letters, I think I’m probably in a very small minority. People find it difficult enough to write quick emails, or even text message people back. Why?! I know we’re all busy and have a million-and-one things on the go everyday, but instead of sending out 20+ text messages a day to various people who you probably aren’t all that interested in being in contact with anyway, why not sit down for 10 minutes and write a quick note to someone you really care about?

I really like the comedian Louis C.K. Like all great comedians, he makes jokes about the absurdity of the everyday. One of my favourite jokes has to do with technology. He’s not against it; he just doesn’t understand why we’re not more excited about it. His point is that we have a lot of amazing things at our disposal that are supposed to make life easier. So why aren’t we happy?

I’m happy. Not in the hyper-active, always smiling and laughing, frenetic kind of way. (That’s not happiness.) I have my ups and downs. I get bored. I have bad days at work. But I have meaningful relationships with the people I care about. Some of them I get to see almost everyday, while I see others once every few years. I prefer face-to-face contact and wish I could get away with not having a cell phone. I’ve learned that if I don’t hear from someone faraway for a few weeks, months, or even a year, it doesn’t necessarily mean we’re not close anymore. They’re just living their life wherever they are, as I’m living mine here. If and when I think of them, or they think of me, I’m confident that we will  be in contact. With a few friends, I’ll even get hand-written letters. And no matter what, that letter will always mean more to me than constant communication with another person who, say, emails me all the time, or writes on my facebook wall. Not because I care about the emailer/facebooker any less. There’s just something about being able to touch a letter. That tactile connection cannot possibly be replaced.

Decompress, compress

It’s always interesting to come home from travelling. Going on holidays is a chance to relax, take your mind off things and have fun! Sometimes you get the chance to reflect on things and come to realizations that you simply did not have the time to really think about during the busyness of daily life.

I wasn’t able to write as much about my recent trip to Europe as I wanted to. I simply saw too much, met up with too many friends and spent too many hours on buses, trains and planes. It was an amazing time and it’s too difficult to put into words how grateful I am for the experiences I had. Though the pace was hectic and I was way too ambitious (I went to Austria, the Czech Republic, Germany, Denmark, Spain and London within five weeks), I’m so glad I went to all these places and saw as many people as I did. I want to thank all of my European friends who made this trip so memorable and opened up their homes and freed up time to host me and show me around their beautiful cities and towns.

Having had the chance to decompress during my holiday, it didn’t take long at all before I was back to the hectic schedule that is distinctly North American. Over the last few weeks, the majority of my life has been spent within a 20 km radius and mainly within two places: work and home (my bed, specifically). But before you get the idea that I’m dreading being home, let me interject…

I realized while I was away that I’m extremely lucky. Well, luck has very little to do with it, actually. Let me re-phrase that: I love my life. It’s too easy to view the world through rose-coloured glasses when you’re visiting other countries and idealizing other ways of living. Yes, I did have the opportunity to travel with locals and yes, I experienced daily living that’s just as mundane and routine as it is anywhere, but it’s all too easy to idealize other lifestyles and places simply because they’re unfamiliar and thus, exciting. So while I love the pace in Spain; the drawn-out days, the meals that last for hours, the way Spanish people live their lives out on the streets, rather than indoors, or the peacefulness of the Austrian countryside, or the colourful and bike-filled streets of Copenhagen, I also know that the life I live here in Alberta is pretty darn great.

What makes it great is that I work at a place I believe in and with people I respect and admire. I have a group of friends that are loyal, hilarious and are striving to achieve their dreams. I have a family who are supportive and don’t expect me to be someone I’m not. Really, what else is there? Don’t get me wrong. Though I’m enjoying life at the moment, that’s not to say I never have stressful days when I feel like screaming at people and throwing things at their heads. Managing a busy café is not the kind of job where you can ignore things, or pass things off, or procrastinate. Whether you’re ready for them or not, customers come and you’d better be ready to serve them, or they won’t keep coming and tell their friends and family to come too. This new position of mine is teaching me a lot on pretty much a minute-to-minute basis. I’ve worked in the service industry for a long time, but being a manager is a whole other thing. It’s no longer someone else’s responsibility to deal with: it’s mine. And while sometimes that can be daunting, mostly it’s very satisfying. Seeing things change immediately as a direct result of what I do is absolutely fantastic.

I guess what I’m trying to say is that decompressing doesn’t necessarily happen when you go away on holidays. After a five weeks of trains, planes and automobiles, it’s been good to have a regular routine chilling out at home and making coffee for people during the day.

Why Austria? (“No. You?”)

This was a question I’d heard more than a few times when people asked me where I was travelling to during my holidays. I guess it’s not one of the first places that people think of visiting when planning a trip to Europe. My initial reason for coming here is that I have a really good friend who’s Austrian and he’s been trying to get me here for the last five years. I met him while working abroad in New Zealand and he’s been raving about his home country ever since.

Now that I’ve spent over a week in this warm, vibrant and breathtaking country, I can see why he loves it so much. I knew very little about this country before arriving and had never heard of any towns or cities other than Vienna, Linz (Georg’s hometown; I know him as “Kefa”) and Salzburg. Over the past week, I’ve had the chance to spend time in almost all the gorgeous little towns and cities that are amongst Kefa’s favourites and have fallen in love with them almost as much as he has.

The week has been an absolute whirlwind tour of not only Austria, but also of Czech towns just across the border and Munich (which Kefa claims is a part of Austria, haha). Note: Germans are to Austrians as Americans are to Canadians – so when Kefa says that Munich is a part of Austria, he’s alluding to the fact that he likes Munich and likes it because it’s similar to Austria.

The first day was spent wandering through Krumlov (“Venice of Central Europe”) and canoeing down its Vltava River. That night we ate dinner in Budweis (home of the original Budweiser beer).

The following days were a blur of charming towns, breathtaking scenery, more meat than I have eaten in the last year (probably not an exaggeration, but I wouldn’t have eaten so much had it not all been so delicious) and more pints of Austrian and Czech beer than I care to think about.

If I HAD to choose some highlights, they would include having dinner atop a mountain in Flachau, swimming at an absolutely pristine lake in Weyregg and being able to wind down every night in Kefa’s sauna (God I missed sauna!). Visiting the concentration camp in Mauthausen was definitely memorable, though “highlight” is certainly not the word to describe it. I’ve also been to Auschwitz-Birkenau and both days, the weather was sunny and cheery, which not only struck me as being ironic, but as disrespectful somehow, as if nature should ensure sobriety.

I also have mixed feelings about tourists visiting these sites: on the one hand, it’s necessary for people to remember what happened 50 years ago and places like Auschwitz and Mauthausen are physical reminders of the horrors that humans are capable of inflicting and suffering. However, giving people the chance to oggle and pry into horrid places seems intuitively disrespectful. When I walked through one of the gas chambers, I felt sick to my stomach and regretted entering it. In the end though, I think it’s necessary to allow people to visit these places and hopefully everyone who walks through the gates take the time to appreciate where and what they’re visiting.

Okay! On to some lighter fare… Vienna was a beautiful city and I wish I could have spent more time there than just the one we had. I would have loved to have seen an opera and been able to wander through some museums. Alas, when you’re travelling in a group, you don’t get to do all the things you want to do. This just means I have to come back. Hallstatt is a tiny town on a lake, nestled in the alps (this was probably the ultimate town for “breathtaking” scenery).

Salzburg is another place that I would like to spend more time in. It’s the birthplace of Mozart and continues to be an arts centre (it’s home to Jedermann – a popular play that plays annually in the summer since 1920). So many places with not enough time!

I leave tomorrow for Barcelona and know I could easily spend another two weeks touring this beautiful country. That’s one of the (few) bad things about travelling: you never get to see all there is to see. Ah well, at least I got a glimpse. Thank you, Kefa for being such a fantastic host! I love you (sometimes )!

August/September Blogs = Travel Blogs!

Tomorrow I will embark on a month-long holiday to Europe. I will be visiting friends in Austria, Germany and Spain, whom I haven’t seen in over two years! As well, I will be having my first couch surfing experience in Copenhagen (www.couchsurfing.com) and will wander through London for the first-time.

Stay tuned for stories, descriptions and pictures of my adventures…

Beauty in Solitude

I used to be the kind of person who always needed to be around other people. I’ve always been independent in the sense of being able to do things for myself and forming my own opinions about things, but I never enjoyed being alone. Being alone made me uncomfortable, especially if I was alone in public. Probably much of this had to do with teenaged insecurity, but I also think that we live in an over-stimulated society. We grew up with the TV on, whether we were watching or not. Hardly anyone you encounter would be caught dead without her cell phone (What if I miss a call?! A text message?! *GASP*!). This kind of constant stimulus leads you to think that it’s abnormal to be silent and living in an urban space leads you to believe that solitude is a wall separating you from the next person.

Over the last few years, I have really come to love being alone. I’ve also developed a deep found respect and appreciation for nature. I used to think of silence as the absence of people talking, cars driving by, the TV turned off. When I sat by a lake two years ago, completely alone, with nothing electronic anywhere close to me, I realized that I rarely experience true silence. Though it sounds like a mundane moment, I can’t express how profound it was for me. It made me realize how uncomfortable I was in my own company and made me wonder why that was. Afterall, shouldn’t you be the easiest person to spend time with? But when you’re used to living with others, making decisions with and for others, being identified in the ways others perceive you, you rarely stop to think about who you are without all these contexts. Is there such a thing as a self outside context? (Incidentally, this is a topic I’ve been studying for the past year and it’s far more complex than you would imagine.)

Anyway, I wanted to write about a beautiful experience I had this past weekend in my own company. Nothing remarkable happened. I didn’t effect a significant change in anyone/anything’s life. I was simply alone, sitting by a lake in the Rocky Mountains after a long hike, breathed fresh mountain air and drank fresh mountain water. I was completely and utterly alone in this indescribably beautiful setting and everything just felt right in the world.