Free kratom slushies, and other news.
Back from a health hiatus and would like your thoughts on an ethical conundrum.
Hello!
It’s been a few posts (four, according to the editorial calendar that languishes in my always-open writing tab) since I’ve published a letter. If you missed me at all, I have returned! I was on vacation for a weekend and then had a minor (yet-unexplained) health emergency I’m still recovering from.
I’m alive, sufficient to say, and can once again look at my computer screen without having to immediately bail.
The big city has a tendency to swallow me up and spit me out as one giant stress ball, but for one glorious, sunny California weekend I stuffed my face with figs, homemade sourdough, and coffee in a little Grass Valley bungalow with friends. All other obligations fly out the window in the face of the glassy green Yuba River. It washed some of the cynicism off of me and may have completely reset my nervous system.
Today’s chisme is a story/snippet of gossip from the party I attended while I was there, the first anniversary of Good Day Barber Shop. I flew out to California ready to assist with beer runs and last-minute party setup while enjoying the company of friends.
All my years of catering and events have left me literally incapable of sitting still while there’s a party to be prepped. It was wonderfully executed, the parking lot and barber shop dotted with freshly-cut heads, beers, friends, music, and excellent merch.
But something very interesting did happen with the caterers…
This is inevitably where I have to disclaim: I love restaurant people. They’re truly the folks I resonate with most in this entire world. I’m especially passionate about startups with big dreams, and I have no shade to throw at anyone struggling to push the boulder up the hill of the restaurant world.
That being said, there are people out there with lots of dreams, and there are people out there with no integrity, and a variety of people in between. What I experienced at this party is a wild, unusual case that I’ve yet to come across in my 10+ kitchen years.
I’ll set the stage: the pop-up team was three hours late. By the time they’d set up their chicken and waffle stand, guests had already eaten food from the burger joint next door. All of the beer drinking and the ninety-degree weather had the crowd ravenous; people had already given up on the idea that the promised chicken and waffles would ever appear. When they finally arrived, the appetite of the room was lukewarm at best. Bummer.
This pop-up team didn’t have a power source for the lights, waffle makers, or fryer. One other restaurant veteran at the party took pity on them, helping run the wires around the building to set up the lights and plug everything in. Of course, by the time they’d plugged in the fryer, it still needed a good 30 minutes to heat up… so we all just stood around staring at each other for a while.
That’s not the tea, though. That could happen to anyone (although if it were me, I’d make damn sure it didnt). No, the worst is yet to come.
Their menu had three items. Well, four:
A plain waffle
A waffle with fried chicken
A neon-orange fruit slushy
… and a +$2 kratom slushy add-on!
Other than serving as a joke, or a point of interest for my husband and I to comment about, nobody really knew what kratom was, nor did they order it. Few asked. By that point, everyone just wanted to try the waffles we’d waited four hours for.
I placed an order with a spacy, spontaneous gal, who had been asking for everyone’s star signs. I tipped in cash, and she had me stand there while they rooted around for a container to serve as a tip jar. Ten dollars plus tip and twenty minutes later, my waffle was ready, butter pooling into its golden grid. It was a suitable, standard waffle, hot and golden brown.
A tray of slushies began winding its way through the crowd, the same Scorpio handing out thimblefuls of neon-orange slushy, glistening under the evening lights with a filmy glow.
To some, she explained they contained kratom. To others, she just cheered and offered up the tray.
“Slushy?” she asked me, holding up the serving tray. I’d been engrossed in a conversation, and willingly took the drink in hand. So did my friend.
“It does have kratom in it,” she explained with a smile, although it was too little too late — my friend had already shot it back. “If you’ve been drinking just take it slow, okay guys?”
I looked at the innocuous plastic cup in my hand then glanced around the room. It was too late for my conversation partner, but who else was drinking this? Did they know?
I watched my husband gently and swiftly take the kratom from a friend’s hand as it raised to his lips.
“Nah,” I heard him saying. “Maybe not.”
“I’m going to toss these,” I suggested, collecting a few on my way over to them.
I don’t know too much about kratom, but I know enough to say it’s not smart to offer a crowd that has already been drinking and has no idea what it is. One of the women in the crowd, pregnant and sober, had declined the slushy because orange simply didn’t sound appealing, but she had no idea it was anything other than a regular drink — Scorpio Shot Girl hadn’t mentioned the kratom at all.
A word here about kratom: I’d recently come across a few articles in the beverage world about an energy drink lawsuit with kratom at the center. If you’ve ever picked up a FeelFree at a gas station, perhaps you know what I’m talking about.
It’s a plant-based substance native to Southeast Asia that acts as a stimulant in low doses and a sedative in higher doses. You can find it at a gas station, with potential for dependency and unclear safety — most especially when mixed with other substances.
It is currently legal, and when paired with booze can fill you with decision-impairing stimulation or depression, depending on the dose, and amplify the intensity of the drinks you’ve had.
So, not a great unannounced party trick.
At the after-party, we got to talking. In the crowd of this particular party, more than one had gone through recovery, a few were totally sober, and most simply had moved on from their wild days of youth. It was safe to say none of them wanted kratom, if they even knew what it was, and only a handful of people had ended up actually drinking the slushy.
The host of the party was displeased, to say the least. He’d been completely unaware of the situation until offered a kratom slushy of his own.
All things considered, it ended well — only one friend passed out at the table, and no one else suffered any effects other than a buzzy, blurry night.
I was genuinely surprised at the gall and irresponsibility of the pop-up folks in general, though, since anything that requires an 18+ warning at a gas station isn’t a casual amuse bouche.
This is where I’d love your opinion. Thoughts?
Thanks for your patience, everybody - I have some very fun stories and interviews in the works, and now that my health is back on track, I can’t wait to share them and get back to regularly scheduled programming!
Catch you Friday with the latest,
