My Dad rolled his eyes when I said I was going to see a "chocumentary" next month. His loss! There are two screenings to choose from, and the film runs almost half an hour. Check out the website, which is colorful and appealing.
IN SEARCH OF THE HEART OF CHOCOLATE- a filmmaker, a chocolate shop, assorted chocoholics, and lots and lots of chocolate
FEBRUARY 12th, DELANCEY STREET 6:30 & 7:30 PM 600 Embarcadero Street San Francisco, CA 94107
Just in time for Valentine’s Day, Bay Area filmmaker Sarah Feinbloom is screening her new chocumentary featuring the Bay Area’s own Jack Epstein of Chocolate Covered in Noe Valley, and his customers, Richard Anderson, Suzanne McKee, and many others at the Delancey Street Screening Room, in San Francisco on February 12th, 2008. Featuring chocolate from Charles Chocolates and Noe Valley Bakery, art by Liz Mamorsky, sound by Robert Berke Sound and animation by Kaitlin Chong, and editing by Anne Flatté, this melt in your mouth experience celebrates the Bay Area’s finest. A perfect evening for anyone who loves chocolate and film, followed by a delicious chocolate reception
by Joshua Charles Catering.
6:30 PM & 7:30 PM SCREENINGS, followed by a chocolate reception. Please reserve seats by emailing email@example.com Tickets are $10, and DVD’s will be available for purchase
In Search of The Heart of Chocolate is a delicious romp through the rich and creamy, melt in your mouth, passionate world of chocolate. Follow filmmaker Sarah Feinbloom as she searches for the origins of her chocolate obsession, interviewing chocolate enthusiasts along the way, delving into chocolate cake, art, fantasy, chocolate croissants, spirituality, sex, love and hot fudge, and journeying into the past to uncover chocolate’s special place in our hearts.
Sarah Feinbloom is an award-winning Bay Area filmmaker whose work includes documentaries, dramatic narrative, and fundraising videos. Her film on the religious lives of teenagers, What Do You Believe? was featured on the cover of the
San Francisco Chronicle Date Book, and screened at the Mill Valley Film Festival, on PBS, and at festivals nationally and internationally. Recently she completed a documentary on child trafficking in Thailand called Daughters and Sons that was featured on NPR and won the Best Short Film on Child Advocacy at the Artivist Film Festival. Sarah thoroughly enjoyed making her latest film, a chocumentary-In Search of The Heart of Chocolate, which involved lots of taste-testing and sampling.
One Golden Rule of Catering: Replace thyself. Preferably NOT on the day of an event. If you're heaving or otherwise ill, give the catering company as much advance notice if at all possible, so as not to induce headaches. The last thing a staffing person wants is to figure out who to call as your back up. I learned this the tough way years ago. I was still in cooking school, and learning the ropes.
I had a bloody eyeball when I woke up early on a Saturday morning. My catering call time was for 3 p.m. that day, in Palo Alto. The bloody eyeball hurt and seemed too disgusting to look at, from a catering guest point of view. Or so I rationalized to myself. At 10:30 a.m., I left a voice mail on the staffing company's machine describing the bloody eyeball, and saying I wasn't feeling well and that my eye looked gross. I said sorry a few times throughout the message, and meant it. I thought that was all I needed to do. But no. Two hours later, I received a scathing response from a bitchy woman:
"What am I supposed to do?" she asked. "This is a huge event, and we really need you. How am I supposed to find a replacement? It's late!" she screeched. She was right, but I didn't have a good answer.
"Look, my eyeball has blood in it, and it hurts. I don't think I should be around food."
"Did you go to a doctor?" she asked.
Why would I do that? I didn't have health insurance, and was taking the cheapo/free self care route.
"No," I mumbled. Our conversation-or rather, her continuing to yell at me-continued for two more minutes. I hung up my phone with the understanding I had seriously fucked up and would not be able to work for this company again. Lesson learned.
I was supposed to cater tonight for an elaborate dinner party. But I tweaked my back cleaning and moving furniture at our place last weekend. Because I have excruciating back pain that flares up every year or so, I did the smart catering thing. I backed out of my catering gig as soon as possible. Last Sunday, I emailed my boss apologies and short details of my back woes, along with the names and phone numbers of two potential replacements. I described in detail their background, "works for the Gettys", "catered a huge New Year's party for wealthy Euros," etc. so she could understand who would be working in my place. If either of those two names didn't pan out, I let the boss know I had other great replacement candidates.
I will call her tomorrow to check up on how my replacement did.
Tomorrow I'm attending a Luscious Lunch with the Food Network's Ellie Krieger, at Garibaldi's Restaurant in San Francisco. Her new cookbook is called Foods You Crave, and the menu will be from recipes in the book. I have to give Barbara Lane of the JCCSF a shout out for inviting me. Barbara is the JCCSF's Director of Lectures & Literature, and will be "in conversation" with Krieger.
When I was a restaurant server, I took pictures of people whenever they asked. Eating out can sometimes be like a mini-vacation, yes? And we sometimes want pics of fun outings, right? Taking pictures seemed to be an occasional part of the job as a server, and folks were happy to document the good times. Of course, I was grateful they didn't ask when I was in a huge rush. I still would've complied but maybe felt a tad irritated.
Recently, I asked the host at Puerto Alegre, a popular sit down Mexican restaurant, to take a picture of our table. There was no one waiting for a table, and he was walking by and didn't appear to be hurried. He gave us an irritated look and answered in a snooty voice, "Ask one of the girls," as he pointed to the waitresses. "I'm busy," he added, as he turned on his heel and stormed off. Our jaws all dropped and we giggled.
Busy, really? 'Cause it seemed like that the amount of time it took for him to deny my (polite) request was a total waste. The camera was set, we were posed and ready, and all he had to do was point and press the button. Having a picture would've made us all feel, in some small way, that a good night had just gotten even better. Watching him walk around the dining room seconds later, one of my dining companions mentioned, "Yeah, I read on Yelp today that the service here can be lacking."
Am I wrong to feel miffed at our missed photo op? When we couldn't get the attention of our waitress, we decided to pay up and leave. Later, a couple on the street happily snapped our pic in one take.