Am I Not Clear… Or Are You Just A Huge F$#!ing Moron?

Today, I did a lunch and dinner shift, which was great because I could use the extra hours.

There were a couple of tasks, I wanted to get done during lunch serivce and so when I drafted the prep-list for the next day, I requested for the daytime cooks to do the following
(btw, if anyone is reading this and you can persuade me that I was someone not clear enough, I would love to hear it):

Medium dice, 4 onions
(an actual size illustrastion was also presented here – with an arrow pointing to it that read “should be this size”)

Small dice, 4 onions
(a similar illustration and arrow reference)

Medium dice, pancetta (2 rolls) [they come in 5lb logs]
(similar illustration and arrow reference)

Marinate Calamari with Rosemary, Garlic, and olive oil

I also provided labeled, plastic container with the two onions and the pancetta.

One of the things that makes the kitchen such a unique atmosphere to work in, is that it is such a mix of cultures and personality types – and with little interaction with the public, we can often express ourselves with little filter. There are those who are there because they want to be and might have goals of someday having their own restaurant or becoming an executive chef – and those who bounce from kitchen to kitchen with more interest in a steady paycheck than in the food itself. I am dealing with one such person. She runs back and forth from her station for about four hours, each time remembering another thing she forgot to bring from the walk-ins, she needs to told how to prepare things between 4 and 6 times and often STILL does not get it right or even finish, she is a notorious gossip (yes, I realize I am gossiping about her but it’s adorable when I do it…) and at one minute past the end of her shift, she is halfway down the block, leaving behind a host of unfinished items. I suppose I feel a little self-righteous because I could made a hefty downpayment on a house with the cost of culinary school instead of renting an apartment that commands about 80% of my monthly income.

Here is what I got back the next day:

5 onions that were all one size – and not either of the sizes in my illustration – too small to be “medium” and too large to be “small”. Got to give her credit for pulling that one off…

The pancetta was decent but in a totally different, plastic container.

Calamari was marinated – but perhaps just rosemary and olive oil, I later discovered that she pureed about a quart of garlic and stored it away.

We playfully made bets the night before that my illustrations and detailed list would not break through but I was positive – cocky even. After all… I’m a people person. I pride myself on my ability to explain things well. All I have to say is… thank God I didn’t bet money.

When I passed by the window and say all three of my plastic containers empty, my heart sank and my temper began to flare. How could this have happened? ANYONE could have done what I needed based on that list.

When I asked her about the onions, which were all over her cutting board, she looked at me and pointed to half “These are small,” and to the other half of he board “and these are medium”. I was about to lose it… and possibly lose my job for freaking out.

“these look exactly the same and they are either too big or too little.”

blank stare…

“cut these smaller please and put them in this container” pointing to the container marker “small dice, onions”.

I needed a cigarette immediately and left to have one in the garage.

I went on a mini-rampage to one of the servers and a great guy…and actor… who constantly does impressions of Sammy Davis Jr. and/or Peter Falk. I’m not sure which.

When I returned the onions still were not small enough and she pulled another container from the dish rack to hold them. Why???

Mind you, the entire time, my list and graphics were taped directly in front of her.

I realized that I was basically on my own for the shift. I did pretty much everything, spoke very little to her and occasionally cursed. At the end of the shift, she actually asked me to make lunch for her and one of the dish washer, at which point, I had to leave the premisis. The assistant GM and I raced up the street to try Georgetown Cupcake for the first time. Thank You Red Velvet… thank you.

Yes, It’s Been A While…

Life has been moving so fast and there have been so many changes – personal and professional, that by the time I found the energy to update, I noticed my last entry was almost a year ago.

To bring those who still have any interest up-to-date, I did very well at the pasta station. It was very demmanding and I liked it. I learned to make pasta, sauces, and be more organized as a cook. I needed to have a constant tally of what was available in the walk-ins, how much to prepare for service, what I could continue to work on during service and what needed to be done for the next day.

- We lost our executive and sous-chef in what apparently a very common move on-ward. For a while, two of us were left for evening service and we worked 7 days a week. It was brutal. Then she left me to go on to Poste. I was very happy for me and very sorry for myself. I had to learn everything- FAST! I learned to order food from vendors, do inventory, a new station (Grill), schedule staff. I did this for about two months before we hired a new executive chef. Really great guy.

- I had my first triste with a line cook. you don’t know him.

- I graduated from Culinary school in December. My family joined me for the celebration. It was a great time. Then they abandoned me to move to Portland, OR.

- I was honored as “employee of the quarter” by the inn.

- I had my second triste with a line cook

- I was promoted to lead-line cook.

- I have the apartment to myself again. The freedom is just as sweet as I remember it. The loss of rent contribution is also very apparent every month. Things are tight. But somehow, I make it work. The day when I look back on these trying times and laugh can start now…

- There were some high-level firings. New management lurks.

That’s pretty much it. I am now the lead cook and responsible for the hot entrees. New chef, new menu, new staff, new frustrations. Things are going well. I’ve learned a lot of recipes that I will share in future posts.

High Praise and Catty Comments

So I’m now learning that the move to my new station is not without being the subject of some catty gossip. This is the real kitchen stuff that you read about in books.

I learned recently that some of the staff are none too happy about my transition and in fact, suspect that I may have earned my new post, the old fashioned way… on my back.

It was brought to my attention that a co-worker has been outraged that I moved to the pasta station so quickly when it took them a year or more to get there and that sous-chef seems to “act different” when I am around, leading to the assumption that we are actually having or on the verge of having… an affair.

I must clear the air by saying that while my gay-dar has been know to malfunction from time to time, I am almost certain that sous-chef could not be more straight. He is a hard drinking, womanizing, rock blasting manly-man.

That being said though, I have never been more flattered. I have never been considered a slut at a job in my life and the fact that someone thinks I am cute enough to sleep my way to the top is a great feeling…

One thing that being a slut can’t get me out of though is how demmanding this station is. It is tough and requires more organization and speed that I am used to but things are going well. Really well, I am really getting the hang of it and my confidence is growing each day. I know sous-chef is happy and recently the executive chef made a cameo appearence during my first TRIPLE (breakfast/lunch/dinner) shift and told me I was “on fire”.

I even surprised myself by quickly adapting to the menu changes that come as a result of the new season – new ingredients in the risotto – the transition from the use of mushroom stock, dried porchinni and glazed chantrells and trumpets to a spicy arrabiata, shaved fennel salad and grilled baby octopus.

I should also mention that while I am assigned to a new station, part of what will make me stand out is keeping a watvhful eye on the the changes going on at the other stattions. I need to be able to step in if need to and fulfill the duties of my old station when called upon, which means knowing what the new vegetables are, what the changes to the salads are, the new dessert garnishes, etc.

Yesterday, I was asked to make dinner for the manager of the “front of the house” – this is the guy who manages the servers and bartenders and makes sure that the correct dishes are going to the appropriate tables. He’s an awesome guy and he told me that he would eat whatever I made and that I could go off menu if I wanted – so I took the opportunity to show some creativity.

I made him a mixed seafood sauce with mussels, shrimp, scallops, white wine, crushed red pepper, lemon thyme and butter over tagliatelle pasta and garnished with fresh parsley and olive oil. It was a beautiful dish and the taste, in my humble opinion was spot on.

After putting it up and calling him to collect it, he returned a few minutes later with the dish and immediately I asked him what was wrong and to my surprise, he told me that when he sat down to eat it, a customer at the bar had seen it and wanted to know if he could have the same thing.

This was an off menu dish, which meant we would have to determine a price for it but the customer was willing to pay and so I made him one, feeling pretty pleased with myself.

Tonight, I worked alone with sous-chef and the night went smoothly. He spent the weekend at a concert in West Virginia and seemed to be in good spirits. Just as we were about to close (early – I love when that happens), the house manager came to the window and informed us that the gentleman from last night who requested my off-menu pasta had returned and wanted it again.

This did not make sous-chef happy.

I was informed that neither I nor the house manger had the right to serve and price and off-menu dish and that it was undermining the reputation of the executive chef and himself.

I must admit that I was taken aback by this reaction. I was expecting some type of kudos and instead got the furthest thing from it.

I was also and still am a bit annoyed. This was never meant to be a dish for customers - it was intended for the house manager only and all the cooks have gone off menu if it is for staff. I was also not the one who made the decision to sell it to the customer and I certainly had no control over his return visit.

But the restaurant biz is full of ego and he felt that I had not earned the right to do what I did and I have to be respectful of that for now… and I will… but I also feel awesome about it.

My first return customer.

Pasta… for the world…

Life seemed so much less stressful when I was depressed…

It’s been about two weeks and the pasta station has been rocking… hard.

More stuff to prep and be responsible for –  and I was already coming in early…

Because this is an Italian restaurant, the pasta needs to be perfect – and almost everything is made a la minute. The pasta itself is made fresh every morning and placed onto baking sheets or in “fish boxes” that I use during service. When then pasta is called for, I need to begin preparing the sauce for each order… and we’re not talking about meatballs and alfredo.

There are butter sauces that need to made (monte au beurre can be a hot kitchen’s worst nightmare… actually it would be the worst nightmare of the poor shlub who has been tasked with making the sauce… in this case… me) with distinction from melted butter, onions and shallots need to deglazed with white wine, aromatics need to be infused, risotto needs to be carfully watched after and stirred while still managing multiple orders.

Orders that make me cringe every time I hear them…

Risotto – it takes 25 minutes to make and need constant attention. Unfortunately, I cannot say “can we not take any additional orders while I make this risotto?” because in theory, I could have made the restaurant over $200 in that 25 minutes with other orders. Because of the length of time involved, you need to stop everything and being this dish as soon as it is ordered, which sucks if you are already weeded with about 7 or 8 other dishes going on.

Fazzoletti – A layered pasta appetizer that also requires me to drop everything because it is a first course. I’ll admit though – it’s delicious. Wine, rosemary, house-made chicken ragu, chantrelles… very much the kind of thing I would have ordered as a customer with no knowledge or concerns about the poor bastard who made it.

There was no honeymoon phase for this station, it’s a constant dance of chaos until the end of service and in the rare down time, there is always prep and/or cleaning (for the extern) to do.

My every move is being scrutinized and plates are a big deal since they are now the main course, which is a thrill – when it’s not making me totally miserable…

My first night, we had 28 reservations scheduled but due to a substantial amount of walk-ins, we cleared 78, which is about two turns for the restaurant (the amount of time times a dining room is full to capacity throughout service time). Of the 78 orders, 71 were for pasta, leaving only 7 for grill, giving the other two line cooks the chance to watch me fight my way out of the weeds. In all fairness, they would occasionally help plate or finsh something if I had an insane number of orders at a time but for the a massive part of service, it was all me. And I prefer it. It’s easier for me keep track if I am doing everything – and it gives me more to be proud of after service.

When service ended, I got my “props” for not caving under the pressure and was even told that I kicked ass even though I felt like it was my ass that got kicked.

The following nights were pretty much the same deal and I was jokingly told by sous-chef that he needed be to not make my tagliatelle so delicious looking. It’s as close to a compliment as I might ever receive from him… and I’ll take it.

I worked the entire weekend (not even upset about it anymore – I would be more shocked that was given a Friday or Saturday off) and it was all the same. Tonight was my first near freak-out because I ran out of nearly everything in the middle of service. Luckily, I was able to get through the first push and scramble to replenish a few key ingredients before the final push.

Some of the more experienced line cooks are working my old station (which has to be a cake-walk for them now…) while I am working this new one and have each offered me little tips, etc. – which I humbly accept – even from a 23 year old – who happens to be a total beast and has way more experience than I do – but the 30 year old in me still feels that I am taking advice from  a 23 year-old. But I take it – and I must admit – it’s good.

Tomorrow, I’m off.

The Devil Wears… a Chef Coat?

Last week began like any other.

Arrive early, peel and blanch vegetables, run over the one of the other restaurants to pick up desserts, finish setting up my station and prepare for service.

Usually Sunday is the day that we are sous-chef free, which is refreshing.. not that he isn’t a decent enough guy…

but this Sunday he was taking the place of another cook who requested the day off to go to the Tom Petty concert.

With only two hours of service left, I am not totally clear what happened between the sous chef and the cook on the pasta station because I was sent on yet another errand but when I returned the pasta cook was alone in the kitchen and while I was arranging the items I was sent for, he said to me

“Bobby, you might be starting pasta sooner than you think and I might be going back to garde-mange. I don’t even care anymore…”

I was shocked and not totally sure I heard him because I was bent down stocking pastas for him and asked him what he meant.

When I returned to my feet, I noticed sous-chef on the other side of the window staring stone-faced at the pasta cook who had his back turned – I don’t know if he even knew sous-chef was there or for how long but he dissapeared again. This time, I heard him punch one of the walls.

He returned minutes later and with no place to hide, I was forced to witness a horrible and incredibly awkward argument that resulted in the pasta being kicked off the line and sent home. At one point during the argument, the pasta cook actually called sous-chef “the devil”.

With just two of us, the rest of the night was both tense and demmanding as a post theatre crowd sent to hot ticket machine into a frenzy.

Sous chef asked me if I had seen him plate some of the main entrees and I responded that I had and he then asked me if I would help him get them out.

Thank God I had been paying attention. One by one, I put up seared halibut plates with pea puree and roasted baby carrots, clams with pain-rustico (grilled bread), and grilled lamb with apricot cous cous.

At the end of the night, sous chef thanked me for my help and complimented my plates, which delighted me despite the circumstances that forced me to rise to the occasion.

At the close of service, my back was facing him as I closed down my station when I suddenly felt him behind me and he whispered in my ear,

“It’s time that you lost your pasta making virginity…”

And just like that, I became the newest pasta cook at “Il Restaurant”. Perhaps the most demmanding station in the kitchen… after all it is an italian restaurant and so it is not uncommon that people want.. PASTA!

I felt like a slightly older, slightly more voluptuous, balding version of Anne Hathaway’s character in “The Devil Wears Prada”.

 That’s all.

Student Drama…

I feel like I am in high school again. Except no acne and not in the closet this go around.

Just days before our demo, we found out that we had our first casualty. One of our classmates quit her externship, which means that she will not graduate from the program. She has returned none of our calls… very sad indeed to come so far and not finish. Not to mention a waste of several thousand dollars.

A few weeks after our group demo, we were still riding high from our success. For the four of us who went first, it was smooth sailing. For the second group – not so much.

Here is the gossip I learned…

The second group was not able to meet prior to the night before they were to go on because of scheduling conflicts. This is not good. From experience I can tell you that the group needs to know that demo kitchen inside and out – you need to know what equipment you need, how long it will take you to use it and finish your product and for God’s sake – you better make sure that you don’t pick the noisy mixer…

One of the students wasn’t even planning to show up the night before due to a massive hang over, causing a huge rift. And the student showed. finally. and drunk.

Apparently a drinking or substance abuse problem among chefs are as common as flip flops or… virginity at a Dungeon’s and Dragon gathering.

This student had to literally be dragged to school to complete the demonstration.

But they managed to do well. The presentation was great and the flavors were fanstatic. The only faults I noticed were that they finished way too early. Almost and hour, which cost them dearly in their evaluation. They also did not correctly write their recipes and I don’t know that they submitted a cost breakdown.

Later… I found out that one of my classmates is pregnant – with ANOTHER classmates baby!

We are also deep enough into this now that those classmates in romantic relationships are being strained to the limit. Breakups are possibly just around the corner.

This scares the crap out of me. The demmands of this lifestyle and career choice are very intense and the proof is all around me.

Group Demo

I am now in my final phase of culinary school. A phase III student.

In addition to my responsibilities as an extern at “Il Restaurant”, I had to make time to meet with my group about executing a 3-4 course meal in front of the president of the academy, various staff, and all of our classmates.

Sure the idea sounds like it could be fun – in concept. But we found out quickly that this is VERY serious business. This is our final impression on the school before we graduate.

The drama begins with picking our group – this is a big deal because you need to be sure that you are working with people who are committed to doing a good job – because your grade depends on it.

I was lucky enough to work with the guys I carpooled with and another very talented classmate. We were a very solid group.

The other piece of news that we found out was that deciding when to conduct your group demo is just as key as who you are doing your demo with. It was brought to our attention that the earlier you go – the less critical your evaluation is – because they are more sympathetic to that fact that it is the first demo and no one really knows what they are doing.

Very cleverly, we assembled our group and immediately reported our team to the academic dean and took the first slot. Of course this also meant that we would have much less time to prepare than our other classmates and it would be a nightmare trying to juggle our girst few weeks of externing with our school responsibilities but we decided that it would be worth it to be finished, which would mean that for the rest of the time, we would get to kick back and watch everyone else’s demo.

And a nightmare it was… it seemed like every moment that we weren’t in the kitchen at our externships, we were in the kitchen at school practicing.

The format is a s follows:

A group has 3 hours to describe and execute a menu in front of the school community.

The recipes have to be printed for the entire class in addition to budget breakdowns, as we are each limited to $250 to feed 13 people.

And when they say 3 hours – they mean it. A large part of the grade is making sure that you have accounted for every minute – dead time – or silence is unacceptable. Someone in the group has to make sure that something is being said for all three hours.

Once the menu is agreed upon, we then have to meet with the president of the academy for final approval.

After a few meetings, our menu was as follows:

Asparagus Soup with Goat Cheese Fondu and Crispy Italian Speck (prosciutto) served with a Puff Pastry Batton

Parmesan Flan with Green Vegetable Garnish and Anchovy Oil

Morrocan Inspired Lamb Ribs with Preserved Lemon Cous Cous and Pepper Creme Fraiche

Tomato Consume and Homemade Mozerella Salad

Cheesecake Timbale with Pineapple and Kumquat Compote

We knew we could pull it off but were not excited about the commitment required.

Everytime our group got together to practice, we would spend the first hour complaining about how much of a pain in the ass it was and how it was ruining our already non-existent lives.

Finally the day arrived… and I would love to say it went off without a hitch but that would be a lie. Three hours is a long, long time to have to talk about pureeing asparagus, roasting pepper marinade, where kumquats orginated, etc.

But after two hours, we were bored with being nervous and just had to move on.

My soup started off strong – asparagus were blanched to perfection, given all the practice I had doing it every day at the restaurant. Vegetable stock was as tasty as veg stock could be, goat cheese fondu perfect and creamy. 

Where things went wrong…

Once the asaragus were blanched, they need to be pureed. Because asparagus are so fiberous, they need to be pureed HARDCORE – preferably in a robo coup and even then it might need to be passed through a foodmill or tamis to ensure a smooth texture. Here is where I learned a very valuable lesson. This was my dish and I would be responsible for it, regardless of who I put in charge. We were assigned student assistant during the demo, and it just so happened that our assistants were strong students who had always done well in all of classroom activities so my instruction was simply “Please puree the s$#t out of this so it’s smooth…” and with that I returned to the classroom to resume the demo. When I got the nod from my classmate who returned the soup in the pot I requested so I could heat it, season and serve.

But just as I was about to serve, I noticed chunks in the soup and fearful that my times was up and that I had no alternative but to serve as is, I served it. Big, Big mistake. Fibers were all throughout making it almost inedible, despite it’s very inviting presentation.

One by one, we presented our dishes until finally, we were DONE!

We then had to be evaluated in front of the entire audience, which I was not expecting but the president of the academy was very pleased with us. The criticisms were, in our opinion minor – certain elements could have been explained more but he told us that our demo was excellent and informed the rest of our class that we had set the bar very high. Our recipes perfectly written, our costs very well prepared and on budget, our timing perfect, the tastes and presentention of each dish very well done.

The instructor gave me some greif for my soup, where I took the opportunity to ask if it would have been appropriate to stop the demo to finish the soup according to the way I intended the dish to be and he said that I abolutely should have, which I should have known. I should have pureed it again or passed it and this is were I learned that I need to be in control of my dish until the very end. If I had been an executive chef at a restaurant and served it to a paying customer, I couldn’t have said to them, “Well I put this person in charge of it, it’s their fault.” – my name is on the door and therefore it was my mistake.

Thankfully, and perhaprs because it was the first demo, he said “but I’m not going to kill you on it… I’m simply going to numb you…”

Thank you chef…

Luckily, I also prepared the dessert with one of my teammates, which the chef described as excellent.

All in all, it was a very, very good demo and chef was very pleased with us. He told us we set the bar very high. Perhaps it seems like I’m bragging. I am.

We were going to get so drunk later that night…

Wah…Wah…Wah…

Warning… there will be spelling mistakes… and I can’t be bothered to fix them…

It’s been a ridiculously long time since my last post despite several big developments.

The hours have been long and the heat – unforgiving – even more so in a kitchen.

If you are out having a leisurely meal at some cute cafe with your friends, laughing, drinking, dining and casually mention to them how hot it is - take just a moment to think about the poor bastard who just made your meal in same heat with the additional degrees added from 12-24 running gas burners, 2-6 ovens set at 500 degrees and running around in a chef coat in search of chives for your garnish or a freakin’ stainless steel bowl to mix your mixed green salad. Then go back to enjoying yourself and your meal … it’s the only thing that makes this torture worth while.

Days off are precious. So much so that for the last several weeks, I just couldn’t see myself thinking “you know what would be awesome to do instead of sleep or lounge around on my ass… update my blog that no one reads…”

But while in between therapists, I feel compelled to expound upon the last few weeks. And it’s a dousey… so much so that I am going to need to make a series of posts.

Stay tuned…

Day Off

Today has been the sweetest day off ever.

After stuffing my face on burgers last night, I slept until nearly 1:00 p.m. and treated myself to Carribean food today. It was everything I hoped for.

Tomorrow is going to suck but I can’t afford to think about that right now or it will ruin the rest of my night. Breakfast service at 6:00 a.m. On the up side, I get off at 3:00 p.m. and don’t have to go in until 3:00 p.m. the next day. So it’s almost like another day off.

T.G.I.M.?

Once upon a time, behind a cubicle far, far away, I couldn’t wait for Friday. Paychecks, weekends, take-out, the occasional gay bar. All the things a man lives for.

Now I find that weekends at a restaurant… suck. hard.

They’re busy, physically demmanding and late. I still love the feeling after service – but it is hard to get pumped up, walking in. At least for me.

Monday night was pretty mellow. Orders came at a slow and steady pace so no one was incredibly overwhelmed. Maybe one really busy point but it has certainly been worse.

But because I am who I am, I do have minor issue with a few things that can be considered annoying about being the new guy at the bottom of the totem pole.

1. People from other stations help themselves to your mise en place, sometimes throwing things off for you. For example, every day I peel a crap load of asparagus and baby carrots for my station, making sure that it is full and that I have available backups to get me through service. Suddenly, someone from the pasta or meat station will need to take some of my vegetables as garnish – so through the night, it they have a lot of orders for that particular dish that requires it then they need of lot of my stuff, putting me at risk of running out in the middle of dinner rush. Of course, I have learned to anticipate this now but it means that I have to almost double my prep, which means coming in a little earlier until I can get a little faster.

2. I am often responsible for mopping the floors. Sometimes sweeping and mopping. New guy crap, I suppose…

3. I am also called upon frequently to make runs to the lower level walk-ins or to one of the sister restaurants for pick-ups. More new guy crap. On the plus side, I noticed that I was having difficulty keeping my pants up during one of these said-runs the other day. Who have have thought that working with food would help keep weight off? Don’t get too excited – I’m no Usher. or whoever is ripped these days…

What also makes Monday special is that Tuesday is my day off. So tonight I treated myself to Five Guys and a cab home instead of the bus. Take that, loose pants…

Despite the frustration, I thought about this on the ride home – a year ago, this was a pipe dream for me. I wouldn’t have dared quit my desk job. It was not practical – not the safe thing to do.

Six months later, I am in the processing of completing a classical, French culinary arts degree AND expanding into Northern Italian cusine. I’m amazed.

That being said, I am seriously debating on whether or not to unplug my phone tomorrow so no one can call me or leave me a voice message. I need time to miss them.