Today, at the restaurant, I met the guy who sells stove hoods. He said, “Just call me E.T.” There is a small hood at Union now, but I need a bigger one with a better motor. I showed him the plan I had for the kitchen and braced myself for the worst, but in the end he was a welcome change from the doubters and the heavy breathers I was meeting before. He’s a can-do guy, and I left feeling a whole lot better.
E.T. is the best—he is the key to my kitchen, and he knows his stuff. He even took the landlord around town to show him his work and make a case for shooting the vent right up through the roof, so we have no elbows in the duct, for maximum exhausting power. To quote E.T. himself, I’m going to have “McDonald’s kinda power.”
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