Tag Restaurants

Reduce, Reuse, Recycle

Michael 12 Comments

I had my transplant evaluation appointment today. This post won’t be about that. I’ll chronicle that next step of the journey in my next post. Today I want to talk about paper. Everywhere I went today, there was paper.

Years ago when I was working in the hospital we were promised that a paperless environment was on its way. In fact, I think they might have been planning that when I was in college. The first time. In the 1970s. They ain’t got there yet. They’re trying. Really, I do believe that. But I think they are fighting a really big uphill battle.

It’s an accountability thing. When I was still working, many of our suppliers used paperless invoicing. Anything you needed to know you could get from their partner sites on line. Yet whenever we would receive anything from a supplier, the contracted delivery service had their copy, in duplicate, and we had to make 3 copies of each invoice for our records. Corporate, hospital, and department each got its own copy. Everyone looked out for himself.

That extends to patient records. Today I electronically reviewed then signed the authorization to treat, release of records, and informed consent forms. After the ceremonial signing, they printed off two copies of each form. One for me, one for the paper file to go along with that electronic copy. Each department that I visited, which had received an advanced electronic order of whatever test was to be performed, printed a copy for me to pass on to the technician who would perform the test who then scanned the order that was previously printed from the computer system back into the computer system upon completion of the test verifying the test had been completed.

Receipt

Yes, that is a 16 inch ruler. No, I don’t remember where I got it.

This paper hanging is not peculiar just to health care. Stop for a late lunch on the way home and count on the waiter, who would enter the order on an electronic tablet, to bring two copies of the check at the end of meal just in case you want to pay by card, and then two more if you actually do.

My final stop was at the supermarket for a handful of items. It’s a store I regularly use and my email address is on file there. I randomly receive electronic coupons and when I check out I am offered the choice of a printed or emailed receipt. I always go for the email version because stores receipts have become the length of War and Peace. They include the purchased items, any discount on those items by way of weekly sales, deductions made due to coupons or loyalty rewards, progress towards those rewards, surveys, upcoming specials, and of course the store name, address, phone and hours. Just in case you forgot where you were shopping I suppose. Whether you elect paper or e-receipt you get printed versions of the coupons that had recently been emailed. Today, the clerk failed to ask how I wanted my receipt and just printed it off. All 21 inches, 3-1/4 inches which actually reflected my purchases. (Yes, in fact, I did measure it.) (Because I have that kind of time, that’s why.) (I’ve told you that before.)

So, the next time somebody mentions the paperless office, you know what the real score is. But please, feel free to print this missive for later reading if you want. You’ll be in good company.

 

 

 

 

Happy Birthday! (Offer valid in the continental United States only. Void where prohibited.)

Michael Leave a comment

Last week was my birthday (thank you) and among the cards, letters, and gifts I received a plethora of greetings from a host of retailers than I have bought from. They were all particularly generous. For example:

One restaurant would be happy to celebrate with me by offering me a free dessert! (Offer good for any single serving dessert item up to $5.00 with entrée purchase, guest must pay any sales tax, cannot be combined with other offers, not redeemable for cash or gift card.)

Another restaurant was celebrating my special day by giving me a free entrée (with the purchase of a second entrée of equal value or greater value, dine-in only, excludes daily special, maximum value $19.99).

Yet a third was willing to part with 25% off the regular price of any breakfast to ring in another year for me (as long as I also bought a beverage, didn’t select any combo meals, stayed away from the breakfast buffet, didn’t dine on Sunday, and spent less than 8 dollars on my choice, otherwise my maximum savings was capped at $1.99).

And still a fourth eating establishment was going to remember my special day with a full 10% of the total check for me and as many guests as I care to include in this raucous fete (excluding alcoholic beverages, market based priced items, pasta and salad bars, discount not to exceed $10.00).

Among the non-food offerings, an e-retailer wanted to commemorate the day of my birth with free shipping on any on-line purchase (minimum $34.99, enter code at checkout).

Or another on-line or in-store savings just for me during my special birthday month of 10% OFF ALL MERCHANDISE (excludes designer, clearance, super-saver, or special purchase items, plus sales tax and shipping, must present coupon at time of purchase, no facsimiles accepted, please enter special 15 character code (“selected just for you!”) before check-out for on-line purchases).

Even the state lottery got in on the festivities offering me a dollar off any $5.00 instant game (coupon expires 30 days after printing).

At least Publishers Clearance house wanted to celebrate with me by offering me a special extra chance to enter their sweepstakes on my birthday only for a prize I may have already won with no purchase necessary! (Don’t ignore this opportunity being made only to special individuals born this month like you!)

And you thought that gift card from Aunt Ella was impersonal.

That’s what I think. Really. How ’bout you?

 

Buffets Make Strange Plate Fellows

Michael Leave a comment

Yesterday I went to brunch at a local family restaurant. Not a fancy Sunday Brunch at a high end establishment. Not a how-much-can-you-pack-on-this-here-plate carnival at a big national chain. A nice, tasty brunch buffet with soups, salads, breakfast regulars, lunch goodies, baked goods, fruit, and desserts at a place you’d not be ashamed to bring your mother to. And while I was there I had one of those “did your mother teach you to do that?” moment. Several, actually.buffet

I suppose I have made some unusual looking plates at a buffet. No matter how structured you might plan your how ever many trips to those tables something in the organization inevitably disappears. Oh but yesterday’s observations took the cake. Or pancake. Or waffle. As in waffles with pierogis? Or fried chicken and sausage gravy with biscuits? Or how about mashed potatoes and scramble eggs all covered with thick, rich brown gravy?

Mind you, I‘m not saying any of those are wrong. Unusual? Yes. Unconventional? Yes.  Unexpected? Certainly to me. But then I did walk away with a plate featuring French toast, sausage patty, eggs, and a selection of olives. I wasn’t going to but I just love those briny, little fruit and it had been so long since I had any. When I heard the containers calling my name I was certain they’d be offended if I asked them to wait until my next trip when their presence on my plate might not raise eyebrows. So I succumbed.

At least I was somewhat original in my combination platter. Not like the guy who ran around from end to end selecting chicken and green beans from the lunch offerings and the waffle and bacon at the breakfast side. Where’s the dare in that? No, my vote for most unusual (at least among those on the same replenishment schedule that I was on) was the lady with a bowl of chili topped with pierogis, bacon, and pine nuts. Now there was a lady who understood the challenge of the buffet!

That’s what I think. Really. How ‘bout you?

Man At Work

Michael Leave a comment

Happy Labor Day America. That wonderful holiday when we celebrate the people who work by making people work so others who aren’t working can take advantage of another day, weekend, or month of sales. A day when the people who aren’t working complain that they might as well be at work because it will be twice as busy on Tuesday when they get back and a day when the people who are working complain that they are working while collecting twice their normal pay. You gotta love those holidays.

There are a handful of people who are working today who aren’t complaining about it. They will get tomorrow off. Actually they’ll get every tomorrow off from their current position. Those are the people at the Bangor, Maine Howard Johnson Restaurant. So why are they special? When they close there will be only one Howard Johnson Restaurant left in the country where once it was the largest hospitality chain with over 1,000 restaurants and 500 motor lodges.

I remember eating in several Howard Johnson’s but one in particular still pops into my head now and then. In 1925, Howard Johnson (yes, there really was a Howard Johnson) borrowed $2,000 and bought a pharmacy in Quincy, Mass. There he installed a soda fountain and brought enough business in to open a sit down restaurant by 1929. In 1940 the Pennsylvania Turnpike opened using the abandoned South Pennsylvania Railway tunnels and rights of way connecting Irwin in the west with Carlisle in central Pennsylvania. Eventually the turnpike mainline was completed from the Ohio to the New Jersey borders through the southern part of the state. Why are these two things related?

Although only 360 miles from east to west (or west to east, even), a distance that can be travelled comfortably in a less than a single workday today (if you felt like working on Labor Day), in the 1960s the trip just halfway across the state was far from a comfortable day’s drive. In the western part of the state the mountains made for slow climbs, challenging twisty downhill runs, and constant stoppages while new tunnels were being blasted through the Allegheny Mountains. I know because I was then a back seat passenger with two sisters while the parents rode up front each summer on our trek from Western PA to Eastern MD. A high point of the turnpike portion of the journey was the Howard Johnson Restaurants at the turnpike service plazas.  After lunch we would be allowed to splurge on dessert and have one of the famous 28 flavors of ice cream. For some reason I always picked chocolate.

Howard Johnson’s were fixtures on the Pennsylvania Turnpike from its opening in 1940 until the 1980s when the full service restaurants began to be replaced by fast food chains and their familiar counter service. The PA turnpike restaurant was the first restaurant the Howard Johnson Company would open on its way to becoming the largest restaurant chain along American toll roads.  In 1979 the Howard Johnson Company was sold and eventually many of the familiar orange roofed restaurants on and off the turnpikes were converted into other brands. By 1986 all of the former company owned Howard Johnson Restaurants were closed or rebranded and only the franchised restaurants remained open. The motor lodge business was divested entirely in 1990.

Today, where I once was served my hamburger on a plate at a Howard Johnson Restaurant along the Pennsylvania Turnpike I have a choice of picking up a pizza or a Whopper and carrying it back to a plastic table in a reconstructed service plaza holding two fast-food restaurants, an ice cream stand, a coffee counter, a gift shop, and a dirty bathroom. Elsewhere there are only two Howard Johnson Restaurants serving comfort food and comfortable memories. Tomorrow there will be only one.

Labor Day had already been celebrated for 3 years before Howard Deering Johnson was born in 1897. When Howard opened that first store in 1925 the Mount Rushmore site was dedicated before construction began on the mountain which would be completed in 1941. That was just in time for Howard Johnson to start opening restaurants along highways that would be packed with hungry families on holiday weekends.

That must be why I always manage to have a quart of chocolate ice cream in the freezer on Labor Day.

That’s what I think. Really. How ‘bout you?

(If you want to see the last remaining Howard Johnson Restaurant you have to get to Lake George, New York. You should hurry. It already closed once in 2012 and reopened just last year. Rumor has it that Rachel Ray worked there as a teenager. No word on if she still stops in.)

 

Sandwiched In

Michael 1 Comment

Sometime over the past several years you have seen a news story, read an on-line article, or seen a magazine article on fast food advertising. Two things are always stressed in these reports – that the advertisers must use the same ingredients that the restaurant uses to make the sandwiches in the ads, and the sandwiches in the ads never look like what you get squished into that bag that you exchanged a bunch of dollar bills for.

There are always lots of excuses. They use special angles and shoot with optimal lighting. Their toppings might be a bit fresher than what the restaurants are using. And my favorite excuse, they don’t cook the food. Apparently when you cook meat it shrinks and when you wrap lettuce in aluminum foil on top of a hot sandwich it wilts. Quel surpise! Here’s an idea. How about not putting the toppings on until the sandwich is ordered? By I’m just talking to the wind.

When advertisers photograph a shirt or a blouse they have to get one from the production line for the picture. The model can be as fresh or as manipulated as you please but the product has to be what you can reasonably expect to find in the store. Why would expect the same requirements for the food we eat? But as I said, I’m just talking to the wind. Or am I?

Take a look at this. This is a sandwich from a local restaurant that has earned its reputation from its sandwiches.

20160601_165010

This particular sandwich was bought, bagged, tossed in the car, sat there while I stopped for gas, finally arrived home, plopped on the table, unwrapped, and picked up to be heartily devoured. That’s when I stopped and snapped off a shot. It probably isn’t that great of a picture because I don’t belong to the “take a picture of your food before you eat it” generation and it still looks like a pretty good sandwich to me. The funny thing about this local chain. They don’t advertise.

Imagine that picture handled by the food stylists responsible for making your McBurger look appetizing. That might be better than porn.

That’s what I think. Really. How ‘bout you?

 

Pride Goeth Before Just About Everything – And With Good Reason

Michael 1 Comment

It was a while ago that I was on my way to an appointment and was there early. Very early. Most of the time I hit my appointments just about on time. This particular morning I was way off. I left too early, drove too fast, got no red lights, did who knows what but for some reason I was early with a capital ‘E.’ No problem. I’ll have breakfast.

I slipped into a hole in the wall diner and had a remarkably tasty omelet with chorizo, onions, jalapenos, tomatoes, salsa, and sour cream. This was after the waitress ran through the morning’s specials including a pancake special. I was told their pancakes are always special, so special that people come from all over for their pancakes. When I was finished and the waitress was clearing my place I mentioned that the omelet was very good, just as good as I’m sure the pancakes would have been. It was the salsa. The salsa was very good, very fresh, not too hot but authoritative enough to hold one’s attention. Oh yes, she agreed that it was good salsa. She went on to tell me that they sell it by the quart jar and, in fact, people come from all over for their salsa. As I was at the register paying my bill I noticed again that one of the specials was two eggs any style served over corned beef hash. I like corned beef hash and had I thought more of it when I ordered I would have taken advantage of that special. And I must have said that out loud because the lady running the cash register said that they make their own hash and I would have liked it. Everybody likes it. In fact, people come from all over for their hash.

Those were some people who were very sure of the products they were persuading the public to purchase. I‘m certain that had I brought it up I would have been assured that people come from all over for their oatmeal. Someday I’ll go back there for lunch and see what the world beats a path there for after 11. I’m sure that the lunch crowd comes from all over also.

That crowd might even be larger than usual. You see, when I got to my appointment two employees on the other side of the reception window were discussing lunch. I happened to mention the diner I had just come from and mentioned that they had a pretty good breakfast there and I bet lunch would be good also. They commented that they had indeed never been there; it looked too much like a hole in the wall for them to take a chance. Now that they heard good stuff about it, that might be where they end up when the lunch bell rings.

Contrast that with another day when I was sitting at a pizza parlor waiting for a calzone for my lunch of the day. A pleasant enough place with good enough food, good enough that when I feel the need for something that I would not ordinarily make for myself, like a calzone, I’ll let them make it for me. While I was waiting another diner walked in and asked if there were any lunch specials. The girl at the “Order Here!” corner of the counter looked up and said, “The specials are written on the window.”

You know, I bet I can find another pizza place that can make a good calzone.

That’s what I think. Really. How ‘bout you?

So They Say

Michael 1 Comment

Some things I think we need to think about.

Driving down the road I came upon a sign that read “Airport 10” alerting me that I was a mere 10 miles from the local airport. About a mile down the road I came upon a sign that read “Airport 10” alerting me that something was wrong here! But what was it that was wrong? Was it the distance to the airport? Was it the selected sign? Was there a flaw in the road? Had I driven through some time/space continuum and will forever be 10 miles from the airport? Or it from me? Or perhaps it was a sign. We probably need a conspiracy theorist for that one.

If that was confusing there are others out there just as confusing. Farther along that same road there is a restaurant. I hesitate to specify the type of restaurant because the sign doesn’t make it very clear. Below the restaurant name is the legend “Japanese Chinese Bistro.” None of those go together! That’s like calling a restaurant a Spanish Danish Deli. I imagine because the cultures were specifically kept separate that it is not a fusion restaurant but one where there is a menu of Japanese offerings, another of Chinese offerings, all presented in a European casual dining atmosphere.

Heading down a different road I was approaching another restaurant in search of its being. This one isn’t looking for an ethnic identity; it’s looking for what it wants to be when it grows up. It wants to be a fine dining establishment but it is more of a slightly overpriced not quite up enough upscale brasserie. At the end of its drive, the owner had a new sign erected, large enough to be seen at 45 miles per hour. And it says, “Try Our New Lite 5 Course Menu.” I think of light (or lite) as a salad and smallish delicate entrée. I suppose if you can successfully lighten up five courses you can charge the world for it. And they do.

And yet farther along the drive I passed a beer distributor. Mind you, unless that earlier drive through the space/time thingy really screwed things up, it is still August. But the big sign in front of the beer shop proclaimed the arrival of this year’s first bottling of pumpkin beer. And I thought the grocery stores with the Halloween candy displays were rushing the season. If we’re dong pumpkin beer before school even starts will we be doing egg nog for Columbus Day? Or perhaps a summer shanty for New Years.

Sometimes things just don’t all add up. Remember that the next time someone says to you, “They say…”

That’s what I think. Really. How ‘bout you?

If Only Restaurants Did Outpatient Surgery

Michael Leave a comment

Regular readers noted that there was nothing to read on Monday. Unfortunately, I spent Monday at the hospital and hadn’t had time to schedule a post for then. Nothing horrible, just a little procedure. The last time I wandered into a hospital it was five months before I wandered back home. Thus I can be a little skittish about returning there.

While I was waiting there my mind wandered. It almost always does. I got to thinking about a post we did more than three years ago, “If Only the ER Served Margaritas,” a tale of an adventure we had at a local restaurant comparing the level of activity to that of the local emergency room. While I was thinking of that, I started noticing how much the hospital resembles one’s regular eatery. Stay with me here.

You know how at a restaurant or tavern where you might be a regular there will always be a place for you. And when you get that place you will always be handed your menus, served your usuals, or surprised with an appetizer. Well, when I got to the hospital I was greeted by name by the surgery gatekeeper, bypassed the waiting room, and led directly to the first prep room inside the pre-op area. There my doctor was already waiting for me and went over the procedure like I had never had it done before.

Back at dinner where they know you, all of the wait staff will drop by, say hello, and give you their opinion of the best entrée of the evening. Your waitperson knows if you want ice or not in your water, will make certain that you haven’t changed your favorite beverage, and knows just how long you’ll chat over the starter before bringing your main courses. Back at the hospital where they know you, the phlebotomist knows what vein to use when you’re normally a “hard stick” for anybody else, the pre-op nurse just has to fill in anything new to your history, and the anesthesiologist knows exactly how much is enough. Those not directly involved in your care that day will still stop, say hello, and see how you’re doing as they walk by your area.

After the main course at the restaurant you don’t even get a dessert menu, those taking care of you will tell you the best available and all you have to decide is one portion or two. After the main event at the hospital you wake up to a can of ginger ale and some saltines without ever having to ask.

Ok, so it’s not as much fun as dinner and a margarita but coming off a five month hospital tour I had to make it some fun!

Now, that’s what I think. Really. How ‘bout you?
(Read the original, it’s a lot better if I say so myself.)

Sandwiched Between Here and There

Michael 1 Comment

About 15 years ago I spent a few years living in Philadelphia. To this day, when friends and family plan a trip to the city proverbially of brotherly love I get calls about finding the best…well, not the best time to visit Independence Hall, not the best museum for kids, not the best place to see fireworks on the Fourth of July. Nope, people are always asking about the best cheese steaks in the city.

Maybe I just look like someone who eats a lot of sandwiches or maybe sandwiches are starting to define certain cities and even whole geographic areas.

Think about it. That cheese steak identifies so closely with Philadelphia that in other cities it’s often called a “Philly Cheese Steak.” Across the state in Pittsburgh take that same meat and cheese and top them with tomatoes, french fries, and cole slaw and you have the classic Pittsburgher sandwich. Pile a sandwich high with thinly sliced corned beef or pastrami, add a well pickled pickle on the side and you’re eating in a deli in New York City. If you’re lunching on a lobster roll you’re lunching in a New England coastal town. You’ve made your sandwich with sour dough bread and you’re on the other coast somewhere around San Francisco. And a Po’ Boy on your plate puts that plate and you in New Orleans.

Of course there are some sandwiches that are universal like peanut butter and jelly. Then there are others that people eat all across the country but nobody will claim them. Like peanut butter and marshmallow fluff. No pickle required.

That’s what I think. Really. How ’bout you?

Soup’s On

Michael 1 Comment

It started innocently enough with a cup of clam chowder. This was a couple of weeks ago after a doctor appointment stuck right in the middle of the day. By the time that was over I was hungry as a bear and lunch came at one of those big casual restaurants that are handiest when you have no idea what you want but you know that whatever you decide on will be decent. I decided on soup and a sandwich. Clam chowder and corned beef. I know, not one of your classic combinations but it was decent. and it woke up a soup need in me.

I like soup. Not so much that I’ll eat it every day but that’s exactly what I’ve done now for a whole week. You might associate daily soup eating with autumn, a chill in the air, leaves falling outside, fires burning inside. Not with May and unusually high (like in the nineties) daytime temperatures. I blame my daily soup eating partially on being in the hospital during the coldest months of the year where their idea of soup is salted water. And partially on that clam chowder.

Let’s fast forward a week or so. It’s time for another doctor appointment stuck right in the middle of yet another day. Again, lunch was high on my list of things to do. Another casual restaurant, another soup and sandwich. French onion and grilled chicken. (What can I say? I just don’t pick combinations well.)

Since then I’ve had soup and something for lunch or dinner. Every day. For seven days. Soups from spicy hot and sour to hearty black bean to classic chicken noodle. All much better than salted water.

So now as I approach week two I have to decide if I should continue the soup-a-thon or shift to a more season appropriate accompaniment to my meals. After all, I’d hate to be the cause of snow in May.

That’s what I think. How ’bout you?