Last Monday, Michael A. and I hopped an empty Southwest flight to Pittsburgh. Carry-on only. We were on our way to produce our largest run to date. Over 13,000 bottles of simmer sauce! No security line. No pat downs. Wow... it was too friggin easy getting there. Not a good sign. Once in Pittsburgh, we hopped in our rental car and drove one hour to Boardman, Ohio, where our newest co-packer was. We checked into our hotel. Michael was so excited because he had become a Priority Club member. They had a goodie bag waiting for him. A bottle of water, a bag of pretzels and a voucher for a couple of free drinks. He kept elbowing me that he was member and I wasn't. Like I give a s**t.
We dumped our bags in our rooms and headed over to the local Longhorn Steakhouse. An easy 30 second walk across the parking lot and the now damp grass. We bellied up to the bar and hoisted our scotches in a prayerful manner, hoping that the next day would be a good one.
Michael ordered the stuffed filet (I think it was a filet). Supposedly stuffed with lobster with a lobster tail perched on top of the steak. The menu made it look soooo goooood... I ordered a massive cowboy ribeye. Baked potato. Sour cream. Dressing on the side please. We polished off another round when our entrees arrived.
Michael's stuffed steak looked like it had been flown in from Bangladesh. "What the hell is that?", I asked. He stared at it and quickly realized he had made a crumby choice. My steak was superb. So much for the Priority Club membership. Michael coaxed the bartender over--a sweet young girl who was so sorry that Michael's steak looked like roadkill. The manager then approached cautiously, expecting us to yell or something. I just dove into my ribeye and watched Michael wrestle with his inedible disaster.
They brought him another entree about 15 minutes later, as I wolfed down my last morsel of dinner. "WTF is that... looks like the first one", I said. It really did. Another dead imitation of meat with a wimpy lobster tail from an obviously midget lobster. Michael called over the bartender and the manager again. They apologized profusely. We were kind, yet Michael now felt a wave of incertitude invading this meat matter. He ate a few bites and pushed the plate away. I now realized how handy that little bag of "Priority Club" pretzels would become for Michael. (ha)
Long story short. We only paid for my dinner! The bartender apologized 14 times. The manager? 23 times. And one last faux pas....we ordered a final round of Dewar's and the manager came back and said that they were out of Dewar's. I have to admit, I figured this was an ominous sign of things to come.
Next morning, we drove the 2 miles to the co-packer. They did a spectacular job. Dead on...no... better than that. Our four simmer sauces tasted the best they've ever tasted. All went well. I also videotaped some of the production for CNN to use in our upcoming story on....CNN.
Our flight was delayed almost 4 hours. Spooky nightime flight back to Philly, through rain and darkness and clouds the whole way. We made it home.....around 11:30pm.
Wait til you taste the latest batch!
Hello, Just saw you on CNN. Very happy to hear about your work with Handycrafters. Keep having fun while building your business.
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