At work today, I talked to a woman who just started with our company. She's probably early thirties, african-american and a very, very hard worker. The kind of woman that you watch work and you feel extremely guilty about the sham I call hard-work. A lot of people come and go that I hardly notice, but this woman, I've always noticed. Her first day was last week and I remember it more vividly than I do my own. She literally kicked the parking lots' ass.

See, she's a cleaning lady, very well-spoken and always kind. We've had a few people blow through lately who just haven't cut it, so it's been quite a change for Tracy to be with us. As I talked with her today, I was interested to hear a little bit more about her. She asked me the questions that most of our employees ask as they try to comprehend exactly what line of business they actually work in. It's hard to explain to anyone, much less those who don't have the schooling and experience that others of us do.

As we talked, she told me about the last job she worked and how she was so sad to leave, but she just couldn't afford to stay. I say "afford" and most of us think that she couldn't afford to not get promoted or work for such a good cause; at least I do. No, Tracy literally couldn't afford to get to her job anymore. Minimum wage is so low and gas so high she told me. In fact, the temp agency that referred us to her has started having to pair jobs with people who live close enough to walk.

That last part really floored me and caused me quite a bit of trouble throughout the afternoon. Instead of finding the right people for the job, we're reduced to finding people who live a block away so that they can "afford" to get to work.

I pretty much feel like a little, whiney bitch for complaining about the slow round of golf on Saturday or for how paying $60 for gas seemed like a lot. The truth of the matter, and it's the kind of truth that hurts, is that we're blessed. If you're reading this, you're blessed because I guarantee no one is having to go to the public library to get on the web or to enjoy the air conditioning. We're really blessed.

And... I'm a little bitch.

I've been a Cubs fan since before I can remember. I got it from my father, who used to always watch the Cubs lose on WGN when I was a kid. I guess it all started when we got cable television (a day I can actually remember) because the Cubs, playing all of their day games, were always on TV.

"The Good Lord wants the Cubs to win!"

"Way back... It may be out of here... IT IS! Holy COW!"

These were the days of Don Zimmer, Andre "You're My Hero" Dawson, Ryne Sandberg, Mark Grace, Rick Sutcliffe, Greg Maddux, etc. Great players, of course, but the Cubs could just never put it together into a winning season.

What solidified my love for the Cubs was Harry Caray. The voice of the Cubs on WGN, Harry Caray was an epic voice in my young mind. Listening to him sing the Seventh Inning Stretch and how he was always so upbeat about the "next game" when the Cubs were sure to find victory. I remember the moment, Valentine's Day 1998, when I heard that Harry was on his way out. That summer, I got to visit Wrigley Field on a mission trip and got to see how his parking spot was still covered with memento's and flowers. Harry was the Cubs for me growing up and it was bitter-sweet to be at Wrigley and not get to hear his voice in the seventh-inning stretch.

Take a listen to some of Harry's greatest calls...

"The pitch! HE STRUCK HIM OUT! HOLY COW! The Cubs win!"

"There's a long drive... Way back into left field... near the wall! The Cubs win! The Cubs win! The Cubs win! Holy Cow. The Cubs Win!!"

"Harry Caray. Speaking from Wrigley Field. God-willing, hope to see to you next year. Next year maybe, will be, the year we've all been waiting for forever. So long everybody!"

(yeah, that's a course from Alinea... it's called "TRANSPARENCY of raspberry, rose petal, yogurt")

A bit tired today after a fantastic weekend in Chicago at the National Restaurant Association's annual show. I had some absolutely killer meals, mostly in a row with some really great customers and friends. I got to see the Cubs play at Wrigley, which no lie, is probably the longest-running dream of life. It's nice to finally fulfill a 20-year old dream of mine, especially considering how amazing the rest of the weekend.

I wrote a few weeks back about some restaurants in Chicago I was lucky enough to get to go to and I can tell you, it did not disappoint. There's something like surreal about getting to enjoy really, really fantastic meals and not have to pay anything for them. That's killer...

First meal was at David Burke's PrimeHouse for lunch on Saturday. I had some pretty high expectations and was very disappointed. They missed on absolutely basic cooking fundamentals; mostly with the dry-aged 45 day bone-in ribeye that was under-seasoned and over-cooked.

Ate that night at Mercat a la Planxa; a very shibby Catalan (Spanish) restaurant that's fairly new and receiving a lot of buzz. The food did not disappoint and the restaurant was absolutely awesome. The wine pairings lacked a bit, but I guess you can't have everything. Seriously though, why serve a Francis Ford Coppola Cabernet in a Spanish restaurant? Total disconnect for me and a bit embarrassing, I think. Stayed till the wee hours at a bar called Nomi in the Park Hyatt that was absolutely rad.

Up next was Vermilion, which was great. It's an Indian-Latin American fusion restaurant that was... well, sexy. The whole decor, ambiance and food was just sexy. I highly recommend Vermilion...

Had a great lunch at BlackBird, a Chicago stalwart, the next afternoon. Spent three hours with some newer customers, getting to know them, enjoying a family-style meal and drinking a killer Vouvray from the Loire. Spent three hours with them and everyone left so pleased that we'd all gotten together.

Then Alinea... I'll have to speak more about this later. It was absolutely mind-blowing, almost to the point of sensory overload. Great experience, but I know it's not for everyone. It takes a lot of focus and determination to battle the 26-course "tour" menu; but I survived.

Leave our agricultural future to chefs and anyone who takes food and cooking seriously. We never bought into the “bigger is better” mantra, not because it left us too dependent on oil, but because it never produced anything really good to eat. Truly great cooking — not faddish 1.5-pound rib-eye steaks with butter sauce, but food that has evolved from the world’s thriving peasant cuisines — is based on the correspondence of good farming to a healthy environment and good nutrition. It’s never been any other way, and we should be grateful. The future belongs to the gourmet.