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Wednesday, June 4, 2008

Steaks, Mani-Pedis & Town & Country

If you have not spent much time on Upper King Street, you are truly missing what I can only describe as an eclectic experience. The PP headquarters offices have a rather unassuming presence (no blazing signage) on King Street. And yet, at least three times in the past couple of weeks, our wee office has been beseiged by aggressive (yet kind) sales folks. Mere minutes ago, a nice fellow stuck his head in to inquire if we were interested in purchasing "the last two boxes of steaks in my truck...really cheap, $2." As appealing as the offer was, we had to respectfully decline. A few weeks ago, we had a very energetic lad sashay up to the office and offer us discounted beauty and spa services. Steaks and mani-pedis. Really?

In other news, due to our upcoming refreshing and expansion of Fish and The American Theater, there has been a WAVE of Spring/Summer cleaning, the likes of which I've never seen currently underway at PP. Yesterday, ladies from The William Aiken House delivered an obscene amount of paper, office supplies and sundry wedding photo albums and books to PP headquarters. (Note: when in doubt, everyone says, "Give it to Marketing, they can use it.")

Anywho, while sorting through the masses, I came across a copy of Town & Country's Elegant Weddings. Published in 2001, the book is a comprehensive guide for anyone planning high-end nuptials. Though the book is only seven years old, some of the photography seems quite dated. It's amazing to see how swiftly wedding fashions come and go. Editor Pamela Fiori offered up her own wedding photographs, to which I say BRAVO. (Her 1950s dress was amazing, but her hair said '80s in a very real way.)

In happy news, congratulations to Amy Pastre of Gil Shuler Graphic Design. She and her husband are the new, proud parents of baby Otto.

And finally, some insights from my very own brother about knowing the source of your food:

"A friend of mine lives “out in the country” on an acre or so of land, large enough and sunny enough to put in a fairly good size vegetable garden and raise several chickens and ducks. We usually meet for lunch once a week at a local restaurant where he barters duck eggs for lunch. One day he had an overabundance of eggs and asked me if I would like some. I had never eaten duck eggs, so I gladly took a free dozen to try them. After that, I began to get chicken and duck eggs from my friend on a regular basis.

One morning I stood staring at an egg poaching in my morning stupor thinking to myself, “Ah, having some of Kurt’s eggs.” It then occurred to me that I had often had this same thought as I cooked my eggs. I thought of my friend Kurt in his garden. Sometimes I thought of his chickens, too, and wondered which one had laid this particular egg, because I had seen the chickens in person and knew Kurt had several breeds. Some had brown shells, some white while the ducks laid slightly larger, white-shelled eggs.

Preparing my egg breakfast made me think about my friend and wonder how he was doing. I thought about his chickens and wondered how they were doing. Had a raccoon eaten one of them or the owl that lived in the bordering woods? Were they all well? In short, I now had a vested interest in the source of my food, because I personally knew it. I wanted to know more about the farmer and the farm animals. I wanted to be sure they were safe, that they were getting good feed, and that their water was clean, because I was eating what they had eaten. I wanted to be sure they were protected from predators. I wanted to be sure that my friend, and I would meet for lunch again. It then occurred to me: people care about what they are familiar with."

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