ph: Playing With Food

Sandwich Onglet with frites and a salad.

Since project hampden was literally wrecked from last nights' dinner, what better way to spend the day than playing a bit more with food and the tabletop Waring fryer? I mean, the shop already smells like grease-laden hell.

There's still some steak and stuff left, so why not make a simple lunch of toasted baguette with melted gruyere with dijon, greens and thin slices of sous vide hangar steak? The Onglet Sandwich. Now that would be a nice menu addition. Add a small side of vinaigrette salad and some fries, with some moules mouclade on the side? Oh, la la!


Poached Egg Three Ways -

With some borrowed eggs, we plopped them into a hot water bath for an hour to test some variations on poached eggs. A shooter in oyster shell, a simple version in an egg cup and on a sliced croissant. Some nice preparations that should also make it onto our menu.

The thoughts then turned back to the sandwich and how nice it would be to serve the sandwich with french fries. But since using a fryer in the shop results in horrific odors filling your pores, that's out of the question. But what if we fried them elsewhere then heated in the oven for service?

Ixnay on that one.


Oven Fries - Just Say No.


A little potato, mushroom and sausage tart from across the street - classic.

Getting VD

A load of groceries at Wegman's.

Over the years, I've cooked dinner for two hundred people, prepared food for multi-course gastro tasting dinners and a bunch of other intense dinners and food experiences. But nothing was more stressful than today's dinner.

Making food is fun. Cooking is fun. But cooking dinner for someone who knows food probably better than you is ill-inspiring. I nearly broke into a cold sweat running around like a headless chicken at Wegman's.

Breathe. Calm youself. You can do this. This is child's play, I told myself.


Some favorites.

And really, I had planned a simple meal. Simple classics. Nothing too intricate to execute. I would rely on easy stuff: stuff I had made before - with the exception of the Mushy Peas.

Mushy Peas? What in the Hell are Mushy Peas? I had never heard of it before. A Google search led me to a recipe. Seemed simple enough. Maybe I could make it in advance and hold it at temperature? Why not.

Here's the menu:

Moules Mouclade
- Line grown mussels in a curry cream wine sauce with baguette and Kerry Gold butter

Onglet a l'Echalote
- Seared sous vide Roseda hangar steak and shallot sauce with Mushy Peas, Salad and Fries

Blueberries in Lime Sugar
- Reid Orchard blueberries in lime sugar with Paco whipped Vanilla Cream


Wines:
2007 Black Ankle Vineyards Albarino
2007 Coudoulet de Beaucastel Cotes-du-Rhone
2006 Audelssa Tephra

And after lots of food, three bottles of some of my favorite wines and long conversations that lasted late into the night, I'd like to think it was a nice dinner - even though I had to substitute Russet potatoes instead of the GPOD70 potatoes I prefer for frites.


Le Moules Mouclade



Hangar Steak sous vide then seared in butter.

Throw It Down

Getting things started.

A barista event just wouldn't be a "barista event" without the near-obligatory Latte Art Throwdown. I've attended and judged more than a few throwdowns over the years and have come to prefer the relative newcomer, Winner Takes All, Sudden Death format where competitors art are placed head-to-head and the judges decide then and there which of the two is the superior art based on color, contrast, symmetry and design. The one that makes it, lives. The one that dies is unceremoniously dumped out in front of an audience of tens.

This style of latte art throwdown makes for something much more interesting and exciting than the typical format of judges sitting down with each art and scoring it for later dissemination. The Thursday Night Throwdown I recently attending in Washington DC followed this Millrock-style of judging and was insanely droll and boring. So droll it was that we left.


Phil and Tim go head-to-head.

At most throwdowns, baristas toss in five bucks for a chance at winning the entire booty. Personally speaking, I prefer a higher stakes game: Twenty Bucks. But most baristas aren't game for a twenty dollar throwdown (even though the return is greater), so I almost never have the chance to play for those stakes. Even better, we once were able to stage a Macchiato Throwdown, which given the smaller demitasse cup, requires greater skill and control to make proper art. A Twenty Dollar Macchiato Throwdown - that's my ideal latte art competition.

For this first-time-ever-in-Baltimore throwdown, it simply became a "bet what you can afford" competition where competitors tossed into the pile whatever they could afford. Five bucks, personal effects, Skittles - whatever. In the end, the booty consisted of $42 cash, 184 grams of Tropical Skittles, a pair of ladies leather gloves, a wallet from Clever Cat, two coffee mugs, a hat, 4 paint pens and a #2 pencil.


Judges Scott and Anisha set the trend.

Serving as judges were World Barista Championship head judge and owner of North Carolina's Carrboro Coffee Scott Conary, and Anisha Jagtap, pastry chef and owner of Baltimore's Puffs and Pastries.

The competitors lineup:

Tim - Perfect Brew Services
Phil - Counter Culture Coffee
Tim N. - Town Hall Coffee
Jess - Spro Coffee
Lindsay - Spro Coffee
Ian - Cosmic Cup Coffee
Yours Truly
Devlin - Spro Coffee


Jess prepares her espresso as the loot awaits.

The competition was fast, furious and suspense filled. Would the seasoned veteran judge and the pastry chef recognize true latte art brillance in such a post-industrial city? Would the throwdown newcomer competitors crack under the increasing pressure and heckling of Micah from Baltimore's Red Emma's Coffeehouse?

In the end, it would be the latte art workshop instructor, Phil Proteau of Counter Culture Coffee who would dominate the entire field from start to finish, take home the leftover bag of Skittles and drink his hour-old winning latte.


Emcee Micah (in hat) heckles the competitors.


Anisha kills someone's dreams of Skittles Glory.


Cosmic Cup's Ian prepares his latte art assault.


Hopes, Dream and the Crushed.


Phil celebrates his victory...


And drinks it too!

It's A Jam, Hon!

Something savory, something sweet.

As project hampden was nearing completion a few weeks ago, Lindsay came to me with the idea of hosting a barista jam. Having attended and instructed at barista jams, I honestly wasn't too keen on hosting one ourselves. Too much work and so much to do before we open.

My first inclination was to say "no." But the enthusiam... how could I deny the enthusiasm?

By now, I'm feeling a bit like the Old Guy at the Party. I've been doing coffee for (technically) seven years or so. That enthusiastic naivete of 2003/2004 where everything coffee was exciting has passed. The experience of cronyism, embezzlement, circling the wagons and other coffee industry politic tomfoolery has me a bit jaded and more than vehemently against the moronic title "Third Wave."


Jenny discusses the finer points of Eva Solo.

But everyone was so enthusiastic about hosting a jam that I would be a moron to tell them "no." Of course, the reality is that staging a proper jam requires us to shut down normal operations for a day - and shutting down for a day not long after opening to the public was not going to fly. It had to be before we opened. Lindsay and company set off at high speed to get things rolling.

Of course, the Blizzard (or Snowmageddon) of 2010 foiled our plans for February 6th, forcing a "snow date" for today - the day before Valentine's. Happily, more than a few baristas were willing to spend part of their Valentine's Weekend with the crew from Spro.


Ilenia and Rebecca talk vac pot.

To be honest, the event is all due to Lindsay. I did very little. She brought the staff together, planned the workshops, called the guests and made it all happen. The event went off very smoothly and while attendees trickled in and out throughout the day, I thought it was well-attended, informative and worthwhile for the participants.

More importantly, the jam was free. Unlike jams across America where the attendee pays, ours was free. Every one donated their time and their effort. Our Special Guests came from far and near, our roasters, creamery and sponsors donated their product generously and for that, we are tremendously grateful.


Allie and Jeremy work the Linea.

Milk Sponsor:
Trickling Springs Creamery

Breakfast and Lunch Sponsor:
Puffs and Pastries

Latte Art Throwdown and Dinner Sponsor:
Woodberry Kitchen

Coffee Sponsors:
Hines-Origins Organic Coffee
Intelligentsia Coffee
Barefoot Coffee Roasters
Counter Culture Coffee
Caffe Pronto
Southern Skies Coffee
Bluebird Artisanal Coffee
Zeke's Coffee
Callao Coffee


A crowd gathers.

Alternative Brewing Workshops:
Eva Solo - Jenny Nelson
Abid Clever - Joy Davis
Vac Pot - Ilenia Madelaire & Rebecca Dowding
Chemex - Kimmy Fung
Aeropress - Jeremy Hyman

Barista Competition Workshop - Scott Conary, Carrboro Coffee

Latte Art Workshop - Phil Proteau, Counter Culture Coffee


Phil, Peter and Jade sit down for lunch.




Some Towson customers stop by for a brew.



Lehigh Valley Represent!



Jin, Larry and Tim do a little coffee cupping.




Scott Conary (of World Barista Championship fame) discusses competitions.

ph: Another Step Backwards...

Oh, my air conditioner!

After a week of nothing happening, we're back in project hampden getting it ready for tomorrow's barista jam. Everything seems like it's going smoothly until it's time to clear off the back deck for the beer keg.

Outside, Jeremy finds that the window air conditioner from the apartment upstairs was ripped out of the window (presumably due to the heavy weight of the snow), causing it to crash and damage the deck railing before plummeting to the snow below.

More repairs and more rubbish. Just when you think you've moved forward...

At Home and Working???

Escaping onto the snow-lined freeway at 70mph.

I've been sitting at home these past 24 hours doing nothing too productive except digging out from the snow and fielding some calls from vendors on the West Coast.

It's kinda odd to be sitting there while the world around you is at a complete standstill and receive calls from people going about their daily business. They're working and making money. You're not. They're ready to work and get things done. You can't do anything except sit there watching back episodes of Ugly Betty, Heroes and 24.

When the phone rang and the caller ID read "Lee" from our POS vendor, I first couldn't comprehend what I was seeing. What is this guy calling for in the middle of a blizzard? Of course, he's in Seattle where they're having their typical grey day and he wants to know which location they should ship the equipment to and which location will be up and running first.

At the moment, none of the locations are up and running. Hampden has passed inspections but need permits - permits that cannot be filed or processed because the government is essentially shut down. And since the government has shut down the building the espresso bar is located, there's not much happening there either.

Both locations shut down due to snow, no revenue, no work hours, how is anyone making money in this storm? Since Friday, we've had 1.5 days of operations and the last .5 day was pretty slow. My Hampden crew has been out of work for a week. I worry about them. Tomorrow is work come hell or high water. People need to eat.

Meanwhile, I've been dealing with a particular issue that's been nagging at me for weeks (months). Something I've been kinda putting off that came to a head with the snow shutting the city down and nothing else to divert the attention. Didn't handle it in quite the way I planned, but Full Speed Ahead. Not quite the outcome I would have preferred but probably the best and most logical outcome, and certainly not the worst. I feel better and stronger about it and I'll just have to see how it plays out.

Plow Watch - Late Night!

The Avenue - 4:07am, Thursday, Februrary 11, 2010.

My JHU Genius is at it once again with the cel phone camera. Hampden is still snow-covered but not as bad as I was expecting it to be. Definitely no work in the morning.

I Am A Snow Baker

Pound Cake looking like Sara Lee!

What is it about snowy weather and baking? I'm really not a baker. Throughout the year, you have to drag me kicking and screaming to touch a mixer and oven, but when it snows, I have the urge to bake. Cookies, cakes, bread, whatever - if there's snow outside, I feel a calling.

And once again, that call was calling me to make pound cake. During the December blizzard I made pound cake and made some critical errors. Mainly, I mixed up an entire batch and tossed it into one, single pan. It took two hours to bake and the texture was more crumbly than the smooth density that I'm seeking in a commercial Sara Lee pound cake.

Yes, I realize that one should not strive to recreate a commercially compromised product, but I can't help it. I grew up on Sara Lee pound cake and, therefore, it is the benchmark (for me) for pound cakes.

This time, I took a pound each of butter, eggs and sugar, mixed them together until smooth, then added the zest and juice of one lemon, two tsp of vanilla extract, two tsp of salt and a pound of flour. Mix it all together until the dry ingredients have become wet and scoop it into two bread pans. Bake at 325F for one hour.

An hour later, the cakes come out and they're looking quite different than the last attempt. Slice it open and darn if they don't have that dense, buttery and silky texture that I'm looking for. Success in the snow!

Time to brew some coffee.

Snowpocalypse! Huh?

A tractor trailer ready to skid and crash into me on 83 North at 35 mph.

Here it is again. Snow. Up to twenty inches of the stuff. Some of my friends are crying and bemoaning more snowfall. I'm crying and bemoaning the fact that my Land Rover needs a new master cylinder and is not ready for this challenge, buried under thirty inches of snow. Instead, my trusty steed, the GMC Sonoma, has been performing admirably in blizzard conditions.

The weird thing about Baltimore is the general panic that ensues whenever snow is on the horizon. People go nuts. Bread, milk, eggs - they clear them out. The grocery stores are slammed as though people never stock their larders for more than a day. There's a rush on toilet paper??? Do people not keep toilet paper at home??? It's all very confounding to me.

As the snow starts to fall and everyone has rushed home, I've had enough of the fear and venture out to do something. But what to do on a day when everyone has panicked and gone home for the next three days? Ah, the cigar shop will be open!

Off to Towson Faders I go, where I find the usual motley assortment of regulars bored with the snow and being at home.

As the snow grows in intensity, so does the smoke filling the room. Conversation, camaraderie, jokes, stories, it's all good ensconced in the bubble of blue smoke surrounding us. Scott tells stories of explosives and fireworks in Buffalo, Bryan's neighbors don't help out in clearing the common alleyway, Mike's showing us photos on his Blackberry of the big-titted girl he's dating (and they are rather massive), Jim is showing everyone his new phone, Ron is talking about his radio show, Other Mike calls in periodically to tell us that he's on the way (he never makes it), that other guy is irritating everyone else and Ripley is sitting quietly to the side smoking those Nat Sherman cigarettes with the colorful wrappers.

It's a nice time and respite from the blustery weather that's piling snow at a rate of 1.5" per hour. By the time we leave, nearly five inches has fallen and everything is covered in white over a suspicious layer of slush and probably ice. The reports coming in throughout the evening have been ominnous. The roads are bad. Stay home. The governor might declare a state of emergency.

As I make my way home through the storm, the streets are snow-covered but nothing too difficult to navigate. They're nothing like the roads on Friday night - those were bad and I really thought that I could be in serious trouble. Tonight, it's relatively smooth sailing, except for the tractor trailers high-tailing it at high speed on 83 North.

Plow Watch Tuesday

The Avenue - 10:55pm, Tuesday, February 9, 2010

Thanks to my JHU Genius, the Hampden Plow Watch continues as the next Snowmaggedon or Snowpocalypse (who thinks of these corny names?) hits our little city. With a few inches of snow piled on the streets and mounds of snow to the sides, they are forecasting another 10-20 inches by tomorrow night. That's nearly four feet of snow since Saturday.

All this snow plus the ineffectiveness of Baltimore City in clearing its high streets has forced me to cancel all the work scheduled for project hampden through Thursday. Government agencies have been closed or severely limited making it virtually impossible to submit the filings for our permits and licenses to open. Just another delay.

I'm hoping that our city will resemble something workable by Friday so that people can start making money.

Ruthless Retirement

You know your adversary is ruthless when you're on the verge of announcing a prize contest and she preempts you by retiring.

I just received multiple calls, messages and emails from industry friends across Baltimore that Elizabeth Large, my long-time culinary adversary and Baltimore Sun Food Critic has decided to retire this month. Humorously, some of them asked if I had a hand in her retirement and I have to respond with a resounding "I Hope So!"

All seriousness aside, I had been contemplating announcing a prize contest: $500 to the person who delivers to me a credible full-frontal face photo of Elizabeth Large. See, as much as I remain a critic of hers, I have to admit that after 36 years on the job, it's amazing that she has been able to retain her anonymity.

But instead of holding a contest and giving away free money, Ms. Large has thrown that away with her retirement announcement. Oh well, guess I'll use that money for champagne.

Best of luck to you Elizabeth Large in your future endeavors. I look forward to meeting you someday - and maybe even enjoying a meal together.

Where To Learn A Focused Craft

Not too long ago, a young barista was relating to me the frustrations of working at their coffee place (no, this barista does not work for me) and how, someday, this barista wanted to go off and do her own thing in her city (she lives in a somewhat small town in the midwest with an average coffee scene and not many options). She was frustrated because she felt like she wasn't really learning anything more about coffee or the craft and it was starting to wear on her.

Because I tend to be a bit foolish in my own decisions, my universal answer for those who want to do their own thing is: "go out and do it". Stop wasting your time and just make it happen. Stop bitching, whining and moaning about things and start your own shop. Of course, without proper preparation, planning and financial resources, this often leads to ruin and greater hardship.

The next thought is to go out and find a place where you can learn the craft, expand your knowledge and really grow. In the restaurant business, you go out and find a chef who you admire and beg to work for him. It's a pretty simple process even though the mechanics of making it happen can be quite difficult. Even so, it's not impossible to get a simple stage (read: "stahj" as in French) at places like Le Bernardin or Per Se - if you really want one.

So the simple answer is to find a barista-driven coffee place where you can learn from someone with greater experience and vision. But where are these places in America (or the world, for that matter)?

As I sat down to think about it, I realized that there are many notable coffee houses in America creating excellent coffee, but how many of them are driven by a singular vision? How many of them are led by a barista craftsman? The more I thought about it, the harder it became.

I reflected about my own time learning the craft at Hines Public Market Coffee in Seattle. The old Hines is no longer there, the Two Johns have gone their separate ways and Hines now exists as strictly a roastery in Vancouver, British Columbia. No longer is there an espresso bar to learn lessons from Sanders and Hornall. The days of sending novice baristas interested in learning the craft to Hines are over.

Most coffeeshops today have great baristas but it seems to be more of a communal effort towards coffee excellence rather than a singular vision. The West Coast Intelligentsias, Blue Bottle, Ritual, Stumptown and many others produce amazing coffee and are great learning grounds, but I'm confounded about where to send someone when they want to learn a focused craft.

After awhile, some places came to mind where the coffeehouse is run by a barista focused on producing the best coffee possible. Anthony Rue of Gainesville's Volta Coffee & Tea came to mind first. Then Aaron Ultimo's eponymous coffee place in Philadelphia. John & YiChing Piquet run the fashionably small and super-hardcore Caffe d'Bolla in Salt Lake City, and Billy Wilson's Barista in Portland, OR.

Over the next couple of weeks, I'll be compiling a list of places that would be great training grounds for this barista. Perhaps you might have some suggestions? Post them here.

2010 Plow Watch

The Avenue - 12:47am, Saturday, February 6, 2010.

Over 48 hours after the blizzard dumped 30 inches of snow and The Avenue, Hampden's high street, is still covered in snow. And we're expecting another 20 inches starting tomorrow. Great.


The Avenue - 10:43pm, Sunday, February 7, 2010.



The Avenue - 11:06pm, Monday, February 8, 2010.

Blueberry Muffins in the Window

Muffin batter en la ventana.

I'm definitely not a baker, but there's something about blizzards that calls me to do a little baking. After a bit of partying last night, I suddenly found the urge for some kind of baked something or other. Maybe some biscuits? Or buttermilk rolls? Something hot and ready for butter to go with some bacon and eggs.

Bust open my notes and oh, those need at least an hour or more to proof. Forget that. Hmmm, pancakes? Not really. Cinnamon rolls? Can't find the recipe. Croissants? Shah, right! How about something that is quick and easy and doesn't require serious commitment on my part? Muffin batter is pretty simple, and I've got some blueberries on hand.

It's a simple recipe of:

8z AP flour, 4z sugar
2tsp baking powder, 1tsp salt
2 large eggs (2z)
8z milk
4z melted butter
freshly grated lemon zest
lots of blueberries

Mix the dry and wet ingredients separately then whisk together until the dry ingredients have become wet. Add the zest and the blueberries, pour into molds and pop into a 350F oven for thirty minutes.


Finished blueberry muffins cooling by la ventana.

Since I was young and my aunt would bring me freshly baked blueberry muffins from Boston's Jordan Marsh, I was hooked. There's nothing like the zesty and tangy acidity of the blueberry matched with butter and sugar sweetness. Slather more butter on a hot blueberry muffin and it's heavenly.

The key is to find really great blueberries that are fresh and in-season. Of course, in the midst of a blizzard in February, there's nary a fresh blueberry field to be found in Maryland and the "fresh" blueberries at Wegman's have probably been flown in from Western Africa or Ecuador. So much for local.

Luckily, I've got a stash of local, seasonal blueberries from Reid Orchards that I IQF'd and vac bagged back in the summer at their peak of flavor. As I raided the box freezer, I was alarmed to find that my larder is running dangerously low - so much for winter blueberry muffins at the new Spro in Hampden.

After resolving to process and preserve an incredible amount of produce this summer so we don't happen upon this predicament in 2011, I grab a bag of the blueberries, rip it open and go to town liberally spraying the unsuspecting batter with individually quick frozen blueberries.

Into the oven they go and thirty minutes later, they're golden and blazingly hot. Drop them onto a cooling tray while I french press a pot of Barefoot Coffee's Amaro Gayo Ethiopia - a coffee that's loved by my staff for its rich and deep berry notes, and a perfect match to the muffins.

After five minutes (okay, I can't wait any longer), the muffins are still hot and loaded with buttery goodness. And since I'm drinking coffee with a berry character to bolster the flavor experience, why not bolster that buttery-ness with a little more butter on top? So good!

Maybe I'll venture out into the cold wilderness later.

Where The Streets Have No Plows

Not much has changed on The Avenue since I left late Friday night.

It's the middle of the Super Bowl Halftime Show and The Who are belting out old rock favorites to an audience of millions. The Indianapolis Colts are up by a couple of points over the New Orleans Saints and I'm out partying with friends and smoking cigars when Sarah calls.

"What are you doing? Come down to the pub."

Hang out with The Guys (sausage fest) or hang out with girls? I'm not stupid. Off into the blistering cold and to the pub I go!

Unlike the county where I live and (sometimes) play, the city is still an absolute mess. I live in a pseudo-rural area of the county and our roads are cleared and passable. Much of Baltimore City is still covered in snow. Unbelievable. Is this really the First World?

Major streets, like Charles, St. Paul and Maryland are covered in snow and barely plowed. Hell, they're barely passable, and if I didn't have 4Wheel drive, I'd be stuck. Twenty-four hours after the storm and four lane streets barely have one lane of plowed width. It's terrible.

Everywhere I go, cars are buried. Sarah's car is buried at home, so she walked to the pub. Some cars are not only buried, but they're parked next to the curb and there's still eight feet of snow from the edge of where the plow has passed to the car itself. Those people aren't driving away anytime soon.


Looks like Spro Hampden isn't opening anytime soon...

Friends ask me to move to the city all the time and because of times like these, I can't figure out why. Trash is removed once a week, property taxes are sky high, the murder rate is amongst the most in America, and the snow removal absolutely sucks. I think I'll stay in the country house, thank you.

After the pub, we swing by Hampden to see how much snow is still covering the streets. Some of my crew is scheduled to work tomorrow but there's still tons of snow and no signs of plowing. Looks like no work tomorrow for them.

On the way home, we retrace my Friday night route. Falls Road is barely passable but suspiciously clears to plowed pavement once we pass Western High School into Roland Park. Hmmm, the traditionally blue collar neighborhood of Hampden is left snow-covered and barren, but the roads of Roland Park (enclave of the rich, fancy and connected) are plowed clean and clear?

Kinda reminds me of New Orlean's Ninth Ward... GO SAINTS!

Tropical Treats for Blizzard Conditions

Ah, just like home - at home.

After a long day of clearing 113 tons of snow, one works up an appetite. And what better way to cap off a day freezing in cold, blustery weather than with comfort food from the warm climes of Hawaii?

Enter the Zippy's Chili.

I've waxed poetic about the virtues of Zippy's Chili. It's Hawaiian-style chili, which means it bears little resemblance to the chilis of Cincinnati, Maryland or Texas. There's some beans and there's some ground beef, but eveything else is a bit of a puree. But over steamed rice and topped with shedded cheddar and chopped sweet onion, and a healthy dousing of Tabasco, and it's just like being back in Honolulu.

For the authentic local experience, one really needs the red-skinned hot dogs from Redondo's but my favorite Sabretts pan fried in butter will do the trick. Smother in chili and oh, life is good.

Calculating The Value of Snow

After nearly killing myself last night after a night of intoxicating indulgence, I decided that I might as well break my back or encourage a heart attack by digging out from the blizzard that dropped 30 inches of snow on my house.

Thirty inches. You just don't know what that's like until the snow is mid-thigh deep and higher than the car doors you're trying to open. Insanity.


The shoveling begins.

After a few quick texts with my JHU Genius, we determined that I had to clear roughly 99,000 gallons of snow from the approximately 6,000 square feet of driveway that were covered in 30 inches of snow. If we presume that one cubic foot equals fifteen pounds by weight, then I had to clear roughly 225,000 pounds or 113 tons of snow.

Clearly, that's a lot of snow.

Now, calculate that my snow shovel is 24 inches wide and 15 inches deep and I can maybe scoop one cubic foot (by weight) of snow per shovel load, which translates into 15,000 scoops of snow.

Crap, that's a lot of shoveling.

And too much shoveling for daddy...


There's a Subaru in there. Somewhere.

Luckily, I've got Tim, the golf pro turned winter snow guy. He's got a Chevy 2500 with a snowplow that's ready to clear the driveway lickety split. Turns out Tim started plowing clients driveways about the same time last night that I started heading home. By his count, he got stuck twelve times over the last sixteen hours.

In order to clear a driveway of this size of the magnitude of this much snow, Tim needed to plow the drive four times over the course of the blizzard. Each pass costs me seventy-five dollars for a grand total of three hundred dollars.


The Sonoma starts to emerge from its slumber.

Three hundred dollars or 15,000 scoops of snow that I must shovel by hand? Which option would you choose? At that rate, each scoop would cost me two cents for that three hundred dollars - and how many days would it take me to scoop that much snow?

Let's presume that each scoop of snow took four seconds to scoop and toss into a pile. At that rate, it would take me seventeen hours of shoveling to clear the driveway. And that's non-stop without lunch or dinner.


Note to readers: when your vehicle is covered in snow, pull it out onto the county road before sweeping it clean. The government vehicles will then sweep the snow out of the way.

Even at my old sound department rate of $45 per hour, that would be worth $750 of my time. Three hundred dollars is a bargain.

Thanks Tim, and they're saying there's another snowstorm coming on Tuesday...

Just A Simple Drive Home...

It's nearly 1 a.m. - sleep here or risk it? Smart people choose the former...

When a massive blizzard and snow thunderstorm hits the city, most sensible people go home and stay home. Some people stick it out until the snow starts before going home. Smart people don't wait until nearly a foot has fallen before making their way home.

Instead of being one of those smart people, I decided to hang out, chat and reign victorious at Wii Bowling. As the snow started to accumulate, I was getting beaten at Wii Table Tennis. When the snow was pouring hard and the lightning dancing across the sky, I was drinking too much. At ten o'clock, when the snow had reached about six inches, I was still engaged in lively debate and the much victorious round of Wii Bowling.

By the time I started heading home, it was nearly 1 a.m. and there was about ten inches of snow on the ground. Should I go home or sleep at the shop? The weather people were predicting at least two feet of snow, my truck was parked on a snow emergency route and I would have to clear the driveway at home in the morning. No choice other than to drive home.


A photo to prove that I was here - in case I didn't make it.

I've driven in snow all my life. I'm rarely fazed by it. In fact, I want to get out there and drive in the snow. But tonight was bad. Some of the worst conditions I've ever experienced. The snow was so thick, I wondered if my Sonoma's undercarriage wasn't churning the snow beneath it. The snow tires threatened to lose traction every 100 meters. By the time I reached Cold Spring Lane, I thought this was a bad idea. Smart people would turn around and sleep in their shop.

By the time I reached Northern Parkway, I could barely feel the road through the steering wheel. Take Falls Road all the way north, or risk getting on the 83 North freeway? Falls Road was relatively flat but being a narrow, two-lane road through the woods meant a greater chance of skidding off into a snow-covered gully and freezing to death in this Snowpocalypse. Might as well take the freeway.

The ramp onto the freeway wasn't too bad, but the transition from the ramp to the freeway felt like a deathtrap. I was certain the truck was no longer riding on the freeway and merely gliding across the deep snow. The freeway itself was thick with snow and I tried to follow the tracks of the intrepid drivers before me.

But something was amiss. Why were those headlights growing in my windshield? In a moment, a dark blue Hyundai drove past me to my left, heading south on the northbound fast lane. That was weird. Was there some sort of massive carnage ahead? Was Godzilla around the next turn ready to munch me and my Sonoma?

On the southbound side of the freeway, a three vehicle accident occupied the highway. No traffic backup, just confusion.


Pretty much my view the whole way home.

I've often wondered exactly how people ended up skidding off the freeway. Tonight I nearly found out firsthand. With near zero visibility, one resorts to following the exposed tracks of the unknown vehicle who came before you. This set of tracks can actually meander across the width of the freeway, at times putting you into the emergency lane and dangerously close to the median strip. One false move onto the gravel median and wipeout. Time to freeze a frozen death.

I nearly ran straight off the roadway at least four times on the ride home. I passed several vehicles abandoned or that had flown off the pavement and into the: a) concrete median, b) guard rail, or c) into a ditch. Luckily, I wasn't one of them.

Smart people stay home in storm such as this one. Really smart people sleep at friends houses or their own shop. Foolish types hang out until the wee hours of the morning then attempt the treacherous road home - even though they know they should have headed home hours earlier so as not to risk their lives.

But it was absolutely worth it.