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When I stepped out of the shower, I took a look around the apartment and realized I need to devote some time to getting it organized. It was livable, but just barely. I was still living out of my suitcase, and I needed to make the place feel like home. I wanted to have a space where I could be comfortable inviting friends over.
I needed to get out and meet more people. I was doing whatever was presented to me rather than having a plan of my own. I took a pad and paper downstairs with me and took a seat at the counter. "Mornin' Rita. I know it's not on the menu, but I need some southern food today. I want chicken and waffles."
"Chicken, like fried chicken? With waffles?"
"Yep. It's a southern thing. Trust me. It's terrific."
Rita and the customers around me looked doubtful, but I knew what I was getting. I hadn't tried the cafe's fried chicken yet. I doubted it would be up to southern standards although my mom's fried chicken was fantastic, and she was Harry's sister, so maybe I'd be pleasantly surprised.
When the plate arrived, it looked good. A crispy fried chicken breast sat atop a golden-brown waffle served with butter and syrup on the side. Sadly, the fried chicken didn't share anything with southern fried chicken except that it was chicken. Clearly it was time I got involved in the kitchen.
By the time I finished eating, I had a list of things I needed to get done today. No more flitting from one thing to another. I need to make real progress. At the top of the list, was showing Rick how to make southern fried chicken and putting it on the menu for breakfast, lunch, and dinner.
Hairy's Cryptid Cafe had a pretty standard menu. There were the usual breakfast items, a few burgers and sandwiches for lunch, and they added a steak, chicken, and fish offering for dinner. It was nothing fancy, and I didn't plan to change that. This is a café, and the menu needs to be appropriate for our customers. Offering tea cakes or a lot of ethnic dishes wouldn't go over well, but we could offer good economical food that was a step up from what the locals were used to at Hairy's. For me, it just made sense to draw my inspiration from my southern heritage. Today's goal was to make southern fried chicken one of the cornerstones of our menu.
I was concerned about how Rick would react to my idea, but he was happy to learn and seemed interested in kicking the cafe's food up a notch.
After finishing with Rick's chicken training, I headed upstairs to tackle my bedroom.
The closet was small, but I could make do if I added a larger dresser for folded clothes. I walked down to the cafe for a cup of coffee and to find out if there was anywhere in town to buy used furniture.
I took my coffee back upstairs and made a list of items I needed to find locally or order online by the end of the day.
Before I headed out to see what I could find, I ordered some heavier, casual clothes—work boots, heavy socks, some thermal shirts, a pair of gloves, and a scarf. As I reviewed the items in my cart, I cringed a little. There wasn't one item that I would have ordered two months ago. The only appealing thing about these items were that they all looked warm. Warm sounded good.