A boob man

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Her eyes are up there.

Chowhound is a weekly column about what’s trending in Detroit food culture. Tips: eat@metrotimes.com.

Pennies for your thoughts: Last week’s conversation on life lessons learned through restaurant work reminded me of something a couple taught me about looking well-endowed women in the eye whenever possible. I waited on them many years ago. At the time, I was an early-20s man of the world in my own estimation; a virtual lady-killer by God’s gift to womankind and a savvy, seasoned server who prided himself in slick, tableside manner and knowing how to read customers. He and she were older — early 30s, I wagered — and everything I quickly perceived about these two assured me she was bored in the relationship, and he’d long since stopped paying her the attention she deserved for, among doubtless other charms, a pair of perfectly beautiful breasts I couldn’t help but notice from first glance.

Of course, I couldn’t stop glancing. Not that I tried. Still, I ogled strategically in order to go unnoticed by the boyfriend. I addressed him dutifully while taking orders and pushing more drinks, trying to make him feel my professional focus; all the while sneaking peek after peek into his lady’s loveliest cleavage. Limit the hovering, I told myself. Don’t fix your stare. Imagine you’re Superman. Better to burn holes onto the bridge of his nose than into her nipples. In all the time I devoted to them (the couple, I mean), she and I never spoke, while he kept our exchanges short and cordial from start to finish.

I hated to see her go. He handed me cash as they walked out. When I counted it, there was no tip. Heading back to the table thinking more money would be there, there wasn’t; save for five pennies atop a receipt turned upside-down and used as note paper. The words I read cut like a hot scalpel through libido butter:

“My wife noticed you glaring at her chest. We’re used to that. What made us both uncomfortable was you treating her like she was just a pair of tits. She talks, orders for herself, and everything. Grow up.”

Though mortified, I knew they were justified. At a safe distance from the embarrassment now, I can laugh hearing descendant horn dogs of my gender making their “I’m a boob man” claims; remembering times when I’d have said the same thing, loud and proud, declaring myself less a man and more a boob in the same sentence.

Hatching August food plans: In weeks, our weather will take its autumnal turn. Hot and hearty soups, stews, and such will sound good again once the evenings start to chill. For me, August heralds Hatch Green Chile time. Once the harvest is in, I roast lots of them: stuffing some (email me if you’d like recipe suggestions) and stewing others Santa Fe-style; with smoked pork, stock vegetables, rosemary-charred sweet corn, and Russets. Served with warm buttered flour tortillas, man, there’s nothing else like it to ring in fall’s food season.

Beginning Aug. 19 and lasting through early September, select Busch’s Marketplace locations will be roasting and selling Hatch Chiles on-site. I found that information on the Melissa’s Produce website, melissas.com. For specific dates and times, along with other local vendors who’ll be roasting and selling chiles this season, check it out. There’s something to be said for picking up already peeled and seeded peppers. Still, they come at a premium. Provided you’ve a little time and interest, I say roast your own. It’s simple and you’ll save about 75% on the cost of having the store do it for you. Just put whole, fresh green chiles drizzled with any kind of cooking oil in a plastic bag and shake until evenly coated. Over either a hot grill or in a hot oven (450 degrees), blister your chiles well and then re-bag them, tightly sealed. Let them steam in the bag on your countertop until they return to room temperature (about an hour), then refrigerate them, in-bag (overnight is best but not necessary). The charred pepper skins should peel easily away. Make a single slit the length of the peeled pepper to remove seeds and pulp (where much of the heat-bearing Capsaicin resides) with a spoon. Your fresh-roasted green chiles are now ready for stuffing and/or stewing. Again, if you’d like recipes for either Santa Fe-style stew or stuffed green chiles (meat, seafood, poultry, veggie), email me at: eat@metrotimes.com. Chow, baby.

This last thing really gets my gourd: Granted, this may be a minority opinion, but the one fall food ritual that gags me with a cinnamon stick is the yearly pumpkin-spiced pukefest. This witch’s brew of ginger, allspice, cloves, nutmeg, ad nauseam has come to permeate every olfactory experience from Labor Day through Christmas in the current culture. I like pumpkin pie as much as the next guy, but not as car freshener, air freshener, hand soap, dish soap, candles, potpourri, coffee creamer, eggnog, milk shake, cappuccino, frappuccino, cereal, cinnamon roll, cupcake, coffee cake, nut bread, doughnut glaze, scratch ‘and sniff holiday greeting cards/wrapping paper, ChapStick, lip gloss, antifungal foot spray, and hemorrhoid cream. Seriously, where does it end?

Where seasonal gourds are concerned, I try to keep things simple. Here’s my go-to: Roasted acorn squash with butter and honey. Brushed with olive oil, roasted in a 400-degree oven with a splash of fresh-squeezed lime juice and rice wine vinegar, it’s a seasonally spectacular side to any protein. To fill the seed cavity with a warm barley, quinoa, or couscous salad drizzled with that same citrus honey butter is to serve up something likely to leave even your card-carrying carnivore friends and family with a deeper appreciation for vegetarianism. Save and roast those squash seeds as well, to plate as an irresistibly crunchy little garnish to your dish. They’re delicate, so be careful when roasting (at 300 degrees until golden, about 15-20 minutes). I shoot a little cooking spray over mine, then season with salt, pepper, onion powder, and paprika for color and smokiness. Again, feel free to email me for recipes.

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