El Jefe y La Chamaca

  Zen & the Art of Barbeque, Baking & Babies Near the corner of 23rd Avenue and Irving Street sits a small unassuming storefront with butcher paper in the windows. A weekly schedule is written in sharpie with promises of a full menu coming soon. I parked around the corner in the loading zone and carried Chamaca here in the car seat. This is supposed to be a quick food pickup on our way to the playground in the Richmond District. I can’t let her out of the car seat until our next activity or it’ll be hell to get her back in. I rather lug 30lbs of baby + carseat weight around than try and wrestle a 22lbs baby back into the truck. Although Smokin D's BBQ has been a staple at farmers markets in San Francisco for a while now, their actual storefront is yet to open with a full menu. I can respect the soft opening, only serving buns at this point. Barbecue is not an easy thing to scale up because it takes lots of skill and precious time.  Barbecue pitmasters are like the ...

    Burnout is drinking a 16oz cup of coffee with a double espresso shot in it and then falling asleep There undoubtedly comes a time in every parent's life when storm clouds are visible on the horizon. The world starts to turn gray, the volume decreases, and you catch yourself staring into the void of nothingness for increasingly longer periods. Mental exhaustion sets in. Combine that with child, partner, and life demands, you begin to neglect your own needs in favor of keeping the ship afloat. In an effort to maintain some semblance of peace, you do all that is required without complaint. Then, suddenly, you find yourself alone and quietly crying, so as to not wake your child from their nap. Even crying, which should allow you some form of release, has to be done quietly and on someone else’s terms. Buckle in, Paternal Burnout has arrived.  Now, before you start dialing the mental health hotline, let's walk through this like adults. Realistically, every parent out there...