My mug’s arrival within reach was preceded by the caffeine aroma hit I craved, re-sparking dulled senses. While I set down my knife roll nearby, she slowly slid a cappuccino across the antique highly polished wooden counter with a deserved gravitas, understanding its true value. “It’s already loaded up and ready to go, hun.” “Hi Sam, I’ll have an extra Vicenzi with that, please. When I stepped outside, breathed in the semi fresh air of a dirty city, it felt good to be free.Ī wave of jubilant relief propelled me down the street and through the doors of Bean Cafe where my best-friend and fellow food connoisseur, Samantha Riley, sprinkled a chocolate love heart atop my cappuccino. I knew she wouldn’t but it was pointless explaining. “Be careful wafting your fingers so close to sharp objects, Judy.” My former good friend bowed her head and leaned wearily across the pass waving a hand dismissively at me. It was true that we’d replayed the walk out quarrel scene a few times, but I knew this moment was different because I felt no anger. You’re too busy kissing wealthy asshole diners to see what a disaster you’ve hired.” “From him? He can’t even name the five classic French mother sauces, never mind make them. When I looked back at Judy, my resting bitch face cracked and I laughed like a hyena. I gawked at her, turned slightly and glanced at my rival where he hid behind a sous vide. “You just can’t stand having the competition.” I can’t watch your useless head chef fuck up one more steak. “You’ll be crawling in here tomorrow, Carla, begging me to take you back.” If she wanted a showdown in front of staff that stopped trying long ago, it was fine by me. When Judy strode into the kitchen from delivering another average plate of food to an overpaying customer she looked furious, but I didn’t care. I was standing my ground on a principle that any self respecting chef or discerning diner would understand. When I rolled up my steel kitchen knives at Chez Judy, NY, for the final time, I felt utterly relieved. At twenty eight I was young enough to reinvent myself, but this version must work out or I’d become a forever evolving cliche romance story that never got published. I’d have to go it alone because my siblings and friends were employed, shacked up with significant other’s or looking for one or both. My father’s vision for me as a great chef could be realised. It was high time to try something new because so far, nothing I’d planned had worked out as intended.Ī new backpacking itinerary was long overdue and Italy was finally on the cards. My slow motion car crash relationship finally became a terminal wreck, and a reckless departure from a shitty job had cleared my schedule. He prodded gently because dad was a nurturer, but in our front porch evening revues of one another’s day, he urged me to travel and become the great chef he claimed was within me.įor too long I’d shelved the missing link to my adventure, opting instead for a stable job, trendy apartment and a relationship, believing everyone else’s perfect life as they described it on social media. When reminiscing his life and chef’s journey, dad endlessly declared my decision as definitive evidence of flawed judgement. Having dropped Europe entirely from my university gap year life affirming itinerary, I’d missed out Italy, something my father rued. You could probably pack it into another bag so that it was semi-rigid.I’d been long distance backpacking before but never alone. The new rules on carrying liquids and gels make it pretty much a no-go as a carry-on. The family size personal organizer is great, if you're driving. The really large ones fit a very well equipped dive trip for two people, without the tanks, into one of them. (This is for two kids - plus assorted water bottles, gaiters, and miscellaneous junk.) You can also pack pretty much an eight day vacation for a large teenage boy wearing clean jeans, t-shirt and button downs every day in one of these. We have two large adventure duffles - they make pretty good ski boot and helmet bags - and when they're packed to the gills, they can be pretty heavy. I can tell you that our four rolling bags neatly fill one Southwest overhead bin. My dh has a slightly larger rolling bag from Bean's which still meets the carry-on guidelines. If you need fancier clothes, jeans or winter clothes for the way home, you might want a large. You can do a 5 or 6 day week in them if you're wearing t-shirts and shorts. The mediums work fine if you're a careful packer. It looks nicer but again, go with wheels. We also have one of the sportsman's duffles. We have three of the rolling adventure duffles in the medium size and one without wheels. We live near several outlet stores so it makes it possible to accumulate them without breaking the bank. OK, I might admit that we have too many pieces of LL Bean luggage.
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