Restaurant: The Movie
A little exercise to boost morale: imagine your restaurant scores a movie deal, a heavy-hitting screenwriter and goes on the silver screen. Who's going to play you? My last restaurant would have put a whole new spin on Veal Oscar. First choice is obvious, but we all know how Hollywood and budgets work. Some names have been changed or omitted alltogether to protect the incompetent.
Tattoo Tony: Kevin Smith
Valet: Jason Mewes
Pasta Dropper : Elijah Wood (Seth Rogan, Rory Cochran)
Me: Jason Lee
Passive-Aggresive Dyke GM: Eddie Murphy (* Kevin Spacey, Edward Norton, Jr., William H. Macy)
Owner: Shaquille O'Neal
Bipolar Bartender: Steve Buscemi
Gay Waiter/Host(ess): David Hyde Pierce
Guadalupe: Angeline Jolie (Rosie Perez)
Pony: Robert DeNiro (Herve Villachez)
Rita: Penlope Cruz (Salma Hayek)
Bill: Jared Leto
Oscar/Luis: Georgo Lopez
Donna: Cameron Diaz (Phillip Seymour Hoffman)
Taylors: Vince Vaughan, Will Ferrel
Mr. Battaglia: Abe Vigoda
Brian Growney: Michael Richards
Takeout Taxi: John C. Reilly
(* the budget and actor availability really is a factor here, but I don't need to tell you that we're talking about a fucking Academy Award for this role.)
Tattoo Tony: Kevin Smith
Valet: Jason Mewes
Pasta Dropper : Elijah Wood (Seth Rogan, Rory Cochran)
Me: Jason Lee
Passive-Aggresive Dyke GM: Eddie Murphy (* Kevin Spacey, Edward Norton, Jr., William H. Macy)
Owner: Shaquille O'Neal
Bipolar Bartender: Steve Buscemi
Gay Waiter/Host(ess): David Hyde Pierce
Guadalupe: Angeline Jolie (Rosie Perez)
Pony: Robert DeNiro (Herve Villachez)
Rita: Penlope Cruz (Salma Hayek)
Bill: Jared Leto
Oscar/Luis: Georgo Lopez
Donna: Cameron Diaz (Phillip Seymour Hoffman)
Taylors: Vince Vaughan, Will Ferrel
Mr. Battaglia: Abe Vigoda
Brian Growney: Michael Richards
Takeout Taxi: John C. Reilly
(* the budget and actor availability really is a factor here, but I don't need to tell you that we're talking about a fucking Academy Award for this role.)
Because it is Slow
I would like to think I am forgiving. Today's lunch service was one fuck up after another. Both the front and back of the house were fucking up left and right. Courses were misfired. Food was being forgotten. Things burned. Things were rung in with a modifier, "on the fly plz." I about lost it on several occasions. How could one thing after another go so wrong? I heard 3 times, "It is because we are having such a slow day." Is that what I am supposed to tell the unemployment department when they ask why their line is out the door on a Monday? Is that what we are supposed to tell our guests who did make it all the way out here today. "Sorry for the long wait for your chicken sir. The cook forgot about it because it is a slow day. Sorry for the wait on your soup sir, the food runner was too busy talking and forgot about it because it is a slow day."
I get it. It is easier to get distracted when its slow. It is more difficult to stay focused. I will however not accept such an excuse. If you only have half the amount of work to do for all of the pay, then I expect the highest quality possible. Needless to say I am a bit annoyed right now and trying to cool down before I head back into the kitchen. The second half of service was me constantly reminding everyone of the obvious so they wouldn't "forget because its slow." I felt like I was helping a group of Helen Kellers.
I get it. It is easier to get distracted when its slow. It is more difficult to stay focused. I will however not accept such an excuse. If you only have half the amount of work to do for all of the pay, then I expect the highest quality possible. Needless to say I am a bit annoyed right now and trying to cool down before I head back into the kitchen. The second half of service was me constantly reminding everyone of the obvious so they wouldn't "forget because its slow." I felt like I was helping a group of Helen Kellers.
the master prep list and thensome
I had a great talk with cornstarch the other day and one of my favorite topics of all was a good portion of it. We discussed the masterpreplist, whether it is scrawled in a looseleaf notebook between those first sips of crackaccino or meticulously formatted the night before (preferably before 4:20) complete with a diagram of the kitchen and who will be working where. I have seen it done many ways and by many levels of staff. My first job treated the preplist like gospel and it was done by the closing FOH manager without any fudge factor. If there were six pounds of crab imperial portions, there would be six more on the next day's list (twelve if it was the weekend). Since prep was pretty heavy there and it had to be done between 8:00 and 4:00, it had to be set in stone and there was no BS about getting slammed at lunch and not getting around to breaded oysters. The chinese lady with the chemical engineering degree would knock it out every day and be done her share by 4:00 on the dot whether there were 22 items or 12. And she still had time to sit @ table 201 for lunch @ 3:00. It fascinated me. Once the kitchen evolved to the point that there were salaried guys on at night, the prep list was put into the closing AKMs hands. A very wise move save the fact that I was one of those guys. We had recently put chx parm on the menu and I saw fit to par them at 5 and include that with the rest of the day shift's list. You might have thought I asked her to tar the roof or make me a pitcher of iced coffee. That restaurant no longer exists, but it taught me a lot about putting systems in place and taking the guesswork out of the equation. My next restaurant had a system as well, but most of that involved only the day shift and they only did what their leader forced them to do. I started there as an overly ambitious line cook and tried to fix everything I could on my way to KM. I knew better than to have anything to do with the ghetto preplist, so I came up with my own....the infamous "4:00 list." Now, this place was high volume with the same menu day and night and things would occasionally get missed. That's where the four o'clock list came in. If we only had 8 orders of wings because chx wasn't coming until to-morrow, I just wanted to know instead of looking like an asshole @ 8:15 with a full restaurant and my night crew scrambling around the 4x6 basement walk-in looking for product thay didn't exist. There was pineapple salsa for the tuna that wasn't on the day preplist, because I refused to continue serving a #2 can of diced pineapples mixed with our house salsa on a $14 seared tuna entree. Putting it on the 4:00 list was the solution and that didn't mean remembering that we had a full 1/6 pan yesterday so you mindlessly checked it off. Eventually, I forced them to actually taste it to make sure it hadn't soured, but that took months. The lucky person given the daily burden of correctly completing the list made it known what a huge hit he was taking for the team, even though it took all of five minutes to do and there was NO physical work involved.
In any case, I've been in charge of the preplist @ every job since and I make it the same whether I am part of the prep team or not. It is a recipe for successful service with no room for excuses and it deserves all the attention you have time to give it. It doesn't fix lazy, but it covers your ass and eliminates the dreaded, "So, what else do you need me to do?" Those especially lazy specimens secretly hope you'll grow tired of this question and incrementally finding them something to do. There are still the holes that are created by busy chefs that don't think of everything. The counterpoint is that something not written is something not done.
I just heard the best reason ever for writing a prep list yesterday: "I like crossing things off."
That's work ethic, sense of urgency and passion in five words.
[This post was originally written many moons ago in a kitchen far, far away. The only new advice is not to use a Sharpie(TM).]
In any case, I've been in charge of the preplist @ every job since and I make it the same whether I am part of the prep team or not. It is a recipe for successful service with no room for excuses and it deserves all the attention you have time to give it. It doesn't fix lazy, but it covers your ass and eliminates the dreaded, "So, what else do you need me to do?" Those especially lazy specimens secretly hope you'll grow tired of this question and incrementally finding them something to do. There are still the holes that are created by busy chefs that don't think of everything. The counterpoint is that something not written is something not done.
I just heard the best reason ever for writing a prep list yesterday: "I like crossing things off."
That's work ethic, sense of urgency and passion in five words.
[This post was originally written many moons ago in a kitchen far, far away. The only new advice is not to use a Sharpie(TM).]
ps here's his resume
throughout the day we left offerings of crackers and ketchup packets under his picture, in hopes that his spirit will fill it's cargo pockets and be on it's way.
the legend of andy jong ill
ok. i've worked with probably close to a hundred different dishwashers in my time in kitchens, and very few of them stand out. those who do, usually stand out because they rock the fuck out of the dish pit, or because they're hot high school chicks. but you've never met andrew.
tragically, andrew has already quit. i only got four shifts with the guy. but he's legendary. i will NEVER forget andy jong ill...
ok, first off...the attire...andrew's outfit of choice consisted of a LONG SLEEVE THERMAL TURTLENECK, (seriously...in a kitchen...), cargo pants with full cargo pockets (of what? who knows?), male nurse white velcro lowtops, and a hat with a montana pin that was taped on. yes. a PIN that was TAPED on. yep. also the hat was just slightly too big.
and then there was the gloves...he wore, and i shit you not, like, grandma style dish gloves. the blue rubber ones with the yellow insides. always. he never took them off. he washed his hands with the gloves on. the only time i saw him with his gloves off, he was standing in the dining room looking at posters on the wall, flapping his hands like wings. see...i knew that he had gloves on all day and was drying his damp hands, but...none of the customers did. or the bartender. all they saw was this wierdo standing with his face literally six inches from the wall flapping his hands like he was trying to fly away...it's already become a kitchen joke.
then there was his voice. at first, his nationality was suspect. he's some sort of asian (i heard he's actually vietnamiese), but the first week i didn't think he even spoke english. then, when he did finally talk to me, his voice is very high pitched, and he barely whispers. which is totally creepy. he asked me for a "hero sandwich", which i made him repeat like five times before i realized he meant a gyro. and he had a wierd habit of standing directly across the window from me, with a drink and a fork in his hands (gloves), just...staring at me. seriously. not like casually holding the fork either...holding it up at shoulder level, like the pitchfork guy from that painting....just wierd.
and he was a shitty dishwasher. he was slow, and he put stuff away wherever he felt like. but he was such a wierdo that his mannerisms are now an inside joke in the kitchen, as is his voice. plus we all thought he was a serial killer. he was creepy. those gloves, that really quiet squeaky voice, the full cargo pockets...nobody knew what to make of him. we decided he was probably a rapist and murderer. today i spent most of the day walking up to the other cooks and whispering really creepy things in their ears in andy's voice.
"this pill makes you forget"
"i'm going to bite your tounge off so you can never tell anybody what i'm about to do"
"it only hurts until you pass out"
"i'm going to wear your face like a mask"
"i'm going to eat your fingers first, while you're still alive"
my boss says he quit but we all think he got extradited back to cambodia for war crimes and/or multiple rape and homicide charges. we'll never know for sure. and we can only speculate on what was in his cargo pockets...was it trail mix? extra gloves? the hearts and eyeballs of his most recent victims? the other half of his hero sandwich?
ahh, andy jong ill, we're gonna miss you. but your voice will never leave us. i'll hear it in my nightmares for the rest of my life.
"you can only scream rape until i eat your windpipe"
tragically, andrew has already quit. i only got four shifts with the guy. but he's legendary. i will NEVER forget andy jong ill...
ok, first off...the attire...andrew's outfit of choice consisted of a LONG SLEEVE THERMAL TURTLENECK, (seriously...in a kitchen...), cargo pants with full cargo pockets (of what? who knows?), male nurse white velcro lowtops, and a hat with a montana pin that was taped on. yes. a PIN that was TAPED on. yep. also the hat was just slightly too big.
and then there was the gloves...he wore, and i shit you not, like, grandma style dish gloves. the blue rubber ones with the yellow insides. always. he never took them off. he washed his hands with the gloves on. the only time i saw him with his gloves off, he was standing in the dining room looking at posters on the wall, flapping his hands like wings. see...i knew that he had gloves on all day and was drying his damp hands, but...none of the customers did. or the bartender. all they saw was this wierdo standing with his face literally six inches from the wall flapping his hands like he was trying to fly away...it's already become a kitchen joke.
then there was his voice. at first, his nationality was suspect. he's some sort of asian (i heard he's actually vietnamiese), but the first week i didn't think he even spoke english. then, when he did finally talk to me, his voice is very high pitched, and he barely whispers. which is totally creepy. he asked me for a "hero sandwich", which i made him repeat like five times before i realized he meant a gyro. and he had a wierd habit of standing directly across the window from me, with a drink and a fork in his hands (gloves), just...staring at me. seriously. not like casually holding the fork either...holding it up at shoulder level, like the pitchfork guy from that painting....just wierd.
and he was a shitty dishwasher. he was slow, and he put stuff away wherever he felt like. but he was such a wierdo that his mannerisms are now an inside joke in the kitchen, as is his voice. plus we all thought he was a serial killer. he was creepy. those gloves, that really quiet squeaky voice, the full cargo pockets...nobody knew what to make of him. we decided he was probably a rapist and murderer. today i spent most of the day walking up to the other cooks and whispering really creepy things in their ears in andy's voice.
"this pill makes you forget"
"i'm going to bite your tounge off so you can never tell anybody what i'm about to do"
"it only hurts until you pass out"
"i'm going to wear your face like a mask"
"i'm going to eat your fingers first, while you're still alive"
my boss says he quit but we all think he got extradited back to cambodia for war crimes and/or multiple rape and homicide charges. we'll never know for sure. and we can only speculate on what was in his cargo pockets...was it trail mix? extra gloves? the hearts and eyeballs of his most recent victims? the other half of his hero sandwich?
ahh, andy jong ill, we're gonna miss you. but your voice will never leave us. i'll hear it in my nightmares for the rest of my life.
"you can only scream rape until i eat your windpipe"
Friday night
Guess who was to sick to work last night? And has already said he won't be in Today either. He then has Sunday and Monday off. I call that a fucking vacation or a good way to get fired. I should have known something was up when I was asked to work Friday day shift which then turned into a 15 hour double.
There's Nowhere Else I'd Rather Be
Except....
1. With my girlfriend at her mom's house enjoying a family dinner
2. In bed with my cats, some weed, and my Nintendo Wii
3. Watching football with a Coors Light
4. Playing football
5. Half drunk at the Highlands Bar
6. Riding on a float with Kanye West in the Macy's T-Day parade
But alas, I am at work. Work work work work work work work.
I'm thankful for being in demand.
Happy Thanksgiving Turkey Fuckers.
1. With my girlfriend at her mom's house enjoying a family dinner
2. In bed with my cats, some weed, and my Nintendo Wii
3. Watching football with a Coors Light
4. Playing football
5. Half drunk at the Highlands Bar
6. Riding on a float with Kanye West in the Macy's T-Day parade
But alas, I am at work. Work work work work work work work.
I'm thankful for being in demand.
Happy Thanksgiving Turkey Fuckers.
i can cook like crazy, but my eye for portions is for s**t
does anybody else have trouble making just one or two portions of things when they cook at home? it's just me and my wife, and even though i always try to mentally scale back my recipes, i always end up with enough soup or spaghetti to feed at least six people. i know better, and yet, every time...
am i the only one?
am i the only one?
New blog to check out
http://blog.ideasinfood.com/
Ideas in food is simply amazing. Way outside the box.
chef
"If they have the responsibility to make sure something is right, and get blamed for being wrong, they have earned the [title] of chef."
Frederic "Fritz" Sonnenschmidt, CMC
Frederic "Fritz" Sonnenschmidt, CMC
Regulars......cuntinued.
15 minutes until close. Not one table for over an hour. I sent all, but one of my staff home. We closed the line. FOH a ghost town. All but one sent home. We are all set to be on the road for the 30 minute drive back to town right at 8:00 pm PST. Then in rolls a local who we've all come to dread. She is all alone and wants a table by the fire to enjoy her new Keith Richards Autobiography. All she ordered is a small side of vegetables.
A little bit about her: She has been coming in for almost 5 years making our lives miserable. She is constantly trying to get free shit out of us. She is a very bitter woman with a reputation among the locals as being an insane bitch. We have concierge that duck behind the counter when they see her approaching. We have servers who give up a section to not have to wait on her. We have employees that hide in the back until she's gone (me included).
15 minutes until close. I'm the closing manager. She's enjoying a book by the fire. Sometimes I wonder if there is a restaurant industry deity we can pray to or offer sacrifice to stop these moments before they happen. Save us Keith Richards. Save us.
A little bit about her: She has been coming in for almost 5 years making our lives miserable. She is constantly trying to get free shit out of us. She is a very bitter woman with a reputation among the locals as being an insane bitch. We have concierge that duck behind the counter when they see her approaching. We have servers who give up a section to not have to wait on her. We have employees that hide in the back until she's gone (me included).
15 minutes until close. I'm the closing manager. She's enjoying a book by the fire. Sometimes I wonder if there is a restaurant industry deity we can pray to or offer sacrifice to stop these moments before they happen. Save us Keith Richards. Save us.
Pros and Cons for a World Class Chef...
On one side you have a great salary, benefits, and job security. On the other you have compromised quality, snuffed inspiration, and nothing you can do about it other than quit.
I love my job. This post doesn't concern me. It does however concern someone who has skills and knowledge way far beyond this small Pacific NW town. A world class chef with an audience that is decades behind in fine dining. Every time he tries to fly higher and take this place with him he gets his wings clipped. It isn't monetary and it isn't a pride thing. He loves this town and does not want to have to leave it. It wears him down. I see it happen.
So here is a question: What is more important? Becoming the best you can be or settle for what you have now because it pays well despite the compromises?
I love my job. This post doesn't concern me. It does however concern someone who has skills and knowledge way far beyond this small Pacific NW town. A world class chef with an audience that is decades behind in fine dining. Every time he tries to fly higher and take this place with him he gets his wings clipped. It isn't monetary and it isn't a pride thing. He loves this town and does not want to have to leave it. It wears him down. I see it happen.
So here is a question: What is more important? Becoming the best you can be or settle for what you have now because it pays well despite the compromises?
Regulars
Last night one of our regulars was in for dinner. His name is Eddie and he is a pain in the ass. He is 5'4" and weighs 250 pounds. He ALWAYS wears shorts and a t-shirt and rarely shaves. Last night he told a story about going to a 3 star in France wearing shorts ( his nice ones), no wonder the rest of the world hates us. He has a huge sense of entitlement that drives the staff nuts. Eddie always requests a extra course and will normally tell us what he wants, seafood of some sort. This time it was sea urchin. No one in the kitchen had ever worked with or even eaten urchin. Well we could not get it and he got stone crab instead. We only have one seating at 7:30pm and Eddie knows this. He was on time but the rest of HIS party was 45 minutes late. That holds up every other table, not that he cares. He brings 10k worth of wine and drinks every drop of it. He sets up the wine like a five year old displaying his prize toys. He always has to make a comment about the food: "I would have finished that with brandy". We have a second pepper grinder, called Eddie, since he is the only person that needs to re-season his food. He always wants extra of something. I am sure he has already called about getting another reservation.
Sorry Chef!!
As managers it is difficult to embrace our mistakes. Nobody wants to be wrong, or rather nobody wants to admit to being wrong. Once you are the chef you can no longer say, "Sorry Chef!" and move on. The more responsibility you have is the more your shit stinks. Every mistake might as well be under a microscope. Your every flaw is exploited. The reason for this is because your mistakes affect everyone.
I like to think I am able to remain humble and accept when I am wrong, but I know that in the heat of the moment I am like everyone else and want to give reasons why it wasn't completely my fault. The truth is we as managers also have to embrace the fact that when our staff makes mistakes it is our fault just as much as it is theirs. Every person below you under your jurisdiction is another version of you. If your cook sends out a well done filet in place of a rare, then it is your fault just as much as it is theirs. The next in command above you is not going to ask the cook "What the fuck?" They are going to ask you.
I am writing this because I got a direct order today to manage the hours of somebody who up to this point for a year and a half has been managing their own hours. This person is a work horse and as we all know it is more important to focus on creating the best end result than the time it takes to do so. Up to about three weeks ago hours weren't so much an issue. Right now it is important we track and manage hours as best we can and allow no overtime. Even though we had a last minute super VIP event I can't use that as an excuse. I have to accept that even though he didn't warn us that he surpassed 40 hours, then 50 hours, then 60 hours, it is totally my fault. I will have to face the heat on Monday. All I can really do is apologize and hope they don't scrutinize my managerial duties too much. I'm on salary so a 60 hour week happens to me a lot and nobody will ever notice. I worked 3 weeks straight in September and yet my superiors had no idea. When my Chef di Partie works a 60 hour week in October it will require a series of emails and a eventually a meeting. I will take the heat, just as my Executive Chef will have to take it as well.
Part of me wants to blame it on the last minute events and a lack of consistent planning, but the reality is that it is in fact my fault. In turn it is Chef's fault, and then again the restaurant manager's fault, and then again the owner's fault. When I think about being in the owner's shoes I won't blame him if he is livid when he sees the reports on Monday.
What sometimes stinks worse than our own shit is the reality that our employees and those under our jurisdiction generally don't and will never understand the real gravity of these situations. After all in the end it isn't their ass. It isn't they who are going to battle for themselves. It isn't they who are reporting to the boss. All they have to do is say, "Sorry Chef!"
I like to think I am able to remain humble and accept when I am wrong, but I know that in the heat of the moment I am like everyone else and want to give reasons why it wasn't completely my fault. The truth is we as managers also have to embrace the fact that when our staff makes mistakes it is our fault just as much as it is theirs. Every person below you under your jurisdiction is another version of you. If your cook sends out a well done filet in place of a rare, then it is your fault just as much as it is theirs. The next in command above you is not going to ask the cook "What the fuck?" They are going to ask you.
I am writing this because I got a direct order today to manage the hours of somebody who up to this point for a year and a half has been managing their own hours. This person is a work horse and as we all know it is more important to focus on creating the best end result than the time it takes to do so. Up to about three weeks ago hours weren't so much an issue. Right now it is important we track and manage hours as best we can and allow no overtime. Even though we had a last minute super VIP event I can't use that as an excuse. I have to accept that even though he didn't warn us that he surpassed 40 hours, then 50 hours, then 60 hours, it is totally my fault. I will have to face the heat on Monday. All I can really do is apologize and hope they don't scrutinize my managerial duties too much. I'm on salary so a 60 hour week happens to me a lot and nobody will ever notice. I worked 3 weeks straight in September and yet my superiors had no idea. When my Chef di Partie works a 60 hour week in October it will require a series of emails and a eventually a meeting. I will take the heat, just as my Executive Chef will have to take it as well.
Part of me wants to blame it on the last minute events and a lack of consistent planning, but the reality is that it is in fact my fault. In turn it is Chef's fault, and then again the restaurant manager's fault, and then again the owner's fault. When I think about being in the owner's shoes I won't blame him if he is livid when he sees the reports on Monday.
What sometimes stinks worse than our own shit is the reality that our employees and those under our jurisdiction generally don't and will never understand the real gravity of these situations. After all in the end it isn't their ass. It isn't they who are going to battle for themselves. It isn't they who are reporting to the boss. All they have to do is say, "Sorry Chef!"
Bound to get burned
My boss called out sick last Friday night. The executive Chef called out sick on a fucking Friday. When shit happens, as you all know, it normally happens on Friday or Saturday night. Well, I had a server plate food for me. Now this server has a few nicknames: Goof Troop, Big Bird, Kevin(it's a girl), and Blumpkin. Despite all this she nailed it and was a huge help. Around ten-thirty the owner called and told me my Boss would not be in on Saturday.
I rolled in to work at 845 Saturday morning and got to working on catering orders and dinner prep. At 1130 found out that the EC would be coming in at normal time. Well he was an hour late and did nothing but tell everyone how sick he was the day before. And when I say nothing I mean he never got this cutting board or side towels dirty. He walked around and around. Then he told me about previous nights playoff baseball game he watched.
On the rare occasion I call out sick I certainly do everything I can when I return to work. Come in early, send others home early, clean everything. I would feel bad that I was not there for my teammates. How can people do that? How can a Manager/EC do that? I might not ever learn the answer but I know no one will gain any respect from me if they pull that shit.
Compliments
Top 3 compliments:
3. "You make cooking look effortless"
2. When someone takes a piece of bread and completely cleans their plate with it.
1. Silence
We happen to have a table in the kitchen which can get noisy depending on the group and the wine consumption. When 8 drunk people sudddenlly stop talking and start enjoying the food in front of them you know you made something wonderful. It does not happen every night but when it does it makes me feel like all of my hard work was worth it.
Anyone else have favorite compliments?
Bottom-feeder Appreciation Week
It is a stroke of marketing genious and a nightmare for BOH staff. It's "restaurant week" and it's coming soon to a reality near you. The premise is fantastic: a state, county, city or other locale dedicates seven days to offer diners prix fixe dining at participating restaurants, usually sponsored by a local publication. Customers get to experience the cuisine of establishments that they otherwise could not afford or would not patronize and the restaurants get free advertising as well as the opportunity to expose themselves to a slew of potential new clients. Sounds great in theory, right?
I have worked restaurant weeks past as both a server and a chef and it is a hassle from start to finish. Seven days of bad tips, continual weeds, stress and one crabby, burned out staff when all is said and done. None of the reptilian, water-drinking lowlifes that kept the place over capacity all week will be back until the next year. The regular patrons who butter your bread the other fifty-one weeks of the year stay far away or resent you. The punchline is that the local rag sends every staff member who can spell out to post critiques of the participating establishments and, for obvious reasons, the reviews are less than stellar. I even know of a server who was let go because of some seriously critical feedback posted about the blogger's dining experience. I think the author was a sportswriter. Nice.
I have worked restaurant weeks past as both a server and a chef and it is a hassle from start to finish. Seven days of bad tips, continual weeds, stress and one crabby, burned out staff when all is said and done. None of the reptilian, water-drinking lowlifes that kept the place over capacity all week will be back until the next year. The regular patrons who butter your bread the other fifty-one weeks of the year stay far away or resent you. The punchline is that the local rag sends every staff member who can spell out to post critiques of the participating establishments and, for obvious reasons, the reviews are less than stellar. I even know of a server who was let go because of some seriously critical feedback posted about the blogger's dining experience. I think the author was a sportswriter. Nice.
Don't have none. Won't have none.
Farmers can be a funny sort. They work from morning til night plowing, sowing, and harvesting. Then they have to clean, package, and market their goods. I have a deep respect for the farmers who we work with. Today that respect was clouded a bit.
My greens farmer dropped off my order yesterday and said, "We don't have any arugula for you, and we won't have any more in the future." No heads up. I have a popular arugula salad on my menu and we are very serious about sourcing locally. I went on the hunt for local arugula and came up with nothing. I ended up at the local produce company because they said a pallet had just shown up from Earthbound Organics. I had to take what I could get so I headed down there. THE ENTIRE PALLET WAS ROTTEN. Earthbound Organics is a garbage company to begin with. They seem to be trying hard to hold up to that reputation.
I put in a menu change, but it has to go through a series of channels before it can get printed. Nothing like a bureaucracy to keep a chef from changing an item on the menu.
Good luck this weekend Chefs.
My greens farmer dropped off my order yesterday and said, "We don't have any arugula for you, and we won't have any more in the future." No heads up. I have a popular arugula salad on my menu and we are very serious about sourcing locally. I went on the hunt for local arugula and came up with nothing. I ended up at the local produce company because they said a pallet had just shown up from Earthbound Organics. I had to take what I could get so I headed down there. THE ENTIRE PALLET WAS ROTTEN. Earthbound Organics is a garbage company to begin with. They seem to be trying hard to hold up to that reputation.
I put in a menu change, but it has to go through a series of channels before it can get printed. Nothing like a bureaucracy to keep a chef from changing an item on the menu.
Good luck this weekend Chefs.
alternative sourcing
I am still reeling from 55 of our 70 covers ordering between 6:52 and 8:00 on a lovely 113F "autumn" night. However, I swear that a tall, bald, white crackhead with two bulging plastic bags just approached me as I was leaving the restaurant and asked if I needed any peppers or eggplant. Now, I don't know how in tune you are with my problems sourcing big enough eggplant for our "signature" rollatini, but it took everything I had to say no and keep walking. Is this what it has come to? It's one thing to have unsolicited farmers strolling up to the back door with luscious crates of fresh produce in the afternoon, but 10:30 @ night? Which one of my neighbors' walk-ins did he just clip or is this the new business model for independently peddled vegetables? Maybe I smoked too much guar gum and none of it really happened....
Purveyors (Part Deux)
So, the great tomato crisis continues...
A few weeks ago, a case of the canned tomatoes that I use for our signature red sauce had three or four cans that were bulging. I opened one and it hissed like a botulistic snake though the product was actually okay. I didn't use them, of course, and asked my 77077 rep for a credit. (Quick background: they are Casa di Procope imported San Marzanos, roughly $4 to $4.60 per 106z can. They are the best than I can find within my budget. The distributor is actually a local restaurateur who imports on the side though, shockingly enough, I can't source them directly from him because of his 77077 relationship.) Last week she told me that she asked the broker, someone I've known since he waited tables @ WSAH, to replace them. He seemed to "be on vacation" and hadn't yet gotten back to her. I asked her why I couldn't just get a credit from 77077. No answer, though mysteriously this week our account was finally credited. Fast forward to this afternoon when I received the three cases I ordered in addition to a fourth case on a separate invoice. At the top, it had a Pocomoke City billing address, a different customer number and a different rep's name, but the invoice said SAMPLE with the broker's name and our customer number. Most importantly, it had a total of $29.00, more than I have ever paid for a case. I wish I could just include the email conversation between myself, my rep and the broker, but that wouldn't be fair. Basically, my tomatoes weren't stuck in customs as my rep originally suggested and it turns out that the case in question is a gift from the broker. Now, riddle me this, Batman, would I have ordered three fucking cases if I knew I was getting one for free?
A few weeks ago, a case of the canned tomatoes that I use for our signature red sauce had three or four cans that were bulging. I opened one and it hissed like a botulistic snake though the product was actually okay. I didn't use them, of course, and asked my 77077 rep for a credit. (Quick background: they are Casa di Procope imported San Marzanos, roughly $4 to $4.60 per 106z can. They are the best than I can find within my budget. The distributor is actually a local restaurateur who imports on the side though, shockingly enough, I can't source them directly from him because of his 77077 relationship.) Last week she told me that she asked the broker, someone I've known since he waited tables @ WSAH, to replace them. He seemed to "be on vacation" and hadn't yet gotten back to her. I asked her why I couldn't just get a credit from 77077. No answer, though mysteriously this week our account was finally credited. Fast forward to this afternoon when I received the three cases I ordered in addition to a fourth case on a separate invoice. At the top, it had a Pocomoke City billing address, a different customer number and a different rep's name, but the invoice said SAMPLE with the broker's name and our customer number. Most importantly, it had a total of $29.00, more than I have ever paid for a case. I wish I could just include the email conversation between myself, my rep and the broker, but that wouldn't be fair. Basically, my tomatoes weren't stuck in customs as my rep originally suggested and it turns out that the case in question is a gift from the broker. Now, riddle me this, Batman, would I have ordered three fucking cases if I knew I was getting one for free?
Smoky the Clueless Bear
A server just told me that it is awkward when a whole table gets served entrees and one person's food drags for a couple minutes. This server has worked here for a long time. She knows our standards, when there is a problem with a plate we will not sell it, even if the rest of the food already left the kitchen. After all these years she doesn't understand that I will make those two minutes the most stressful minutes of my cook's whole night.
May I add that this server reeked horribly of stale cigarette smoke while she was telling me this. Clearly she was out smoking while her entrees were being delivered. She smelled like an ashtray and doesn't seem to think it is awkward to stink so bad while she is reaching over her guests pouring wine and dropping plates. It is pointless trying to explain this to her. I've tried to do so kindly and have gotten nothing but attitude about it. They make far more money than my cooks and have too big of egos to pay attention to how they can become better at service. I have a hard time hearing someone tell me what good service is while they serve their guests smelling like a stale ashtray and refusing to listen to me when I tell her that non-smokers find her odor to be offensive and gross. I smoked for 12 years so I understand the habit. We are however the finest dining around and if a server can't go a 4 hour service without a cigarette for the sake of our guests (and her $300 in tips + $8.50/hour) then we need to rethink our standards. I blame her managers, both of whom are smokers.
May I add that this server reeked horribly of stale cigarette smoke while she was telling me this. Clearly she was out smoking while her entrees were being delivered. She smelled like an ashtray and doesn't seem to think it is awkward to stink so bad while she is reaching over her guests pouring wine and dropping plates. It is pointless trying to explain this to her. I've tried to do so kindly and have gotten nothing but attitude about it. They make far more money than my cooks and have too big of egos to pay attention to how they can become better at service. I have a hard time hearing someone tell me what good service is while they serve their guests smelling like a stale ashtray and refusing to listen to me when I tell her that non-smokers find her odor to be offensive and gross. I smoked for 12 years so I understand the habit. We are however the finest dining around and if a server can't go a 4 hour service without a cigarette for the sake of our guests (and her $300 in tips + $8.50/hour) then we need to rethink our standards. I blame her managers, both of whom are smokers.
Time Off
Why is it that I must work nine days straight, including one day prep shift, in order to take two days off in a row?
Where did we go wrong?
We have been wanting to visit your restaurant for a very long time. We were not disappointed about the beauty and the wines we enjoyed. But unfortunetly I was disappointed by our lunch experience. My expectations were high. This is the season for fresh vegetables which are abundant and available everywhere. The crudite' we order was not the case. I had also ordered the salad - the romaine lettuce was turning and was even brown. My daughter's broccoli was overcooked and her chicken strips were cold and tasted as if they had sat for while. I am not a chef Ramsey but I would say that the lunch did not compliment the surroundings or the fine wine that is served. I noticed that plates returning to the kitchen showed a lot of veggies. I did share w/ our server and she comp'ed a dessert. Best Regards, XXX
The knife in the other hand
When a deuce walks in our doors, I generally don't think of their
presence as an overall experience, but rather than two more covers
that need to be executed.
presence as an overall experience, but rather than two more covers
that need to be executed.
Last night, for the first time in awhile, I went out for dinner. The
food was decent, but I cannot stand "fine" dining. Perhaps it's due
to an undiagnosed ADD or ADHD or today's fast-paced environment.
However, this dining style is not for me. I enjoy eating food, but I
enjoy cooking food even more.
I guess I never really thought about how long the customers actually
stay. Our experience last night took around an hour and a half. To me,
even though I was enjoying myself and not working, that hour and a
half felt like an eternity.
Just thought it would be interesting to think of it from a different
aspect. Anyone else have any similar feelings?
purveyors
Of course I am guilty of expecting too much from 77077, but it suits many of my needs and I know better than to get anything but brand name products, dry goods, paper and chemicals from them. My problem is D. Supershiny, my dipshit rep. She's been doing it for fifteen years, still knows nothing about food and wonders why she never gets new accounts. She is so dim, that it wouldn't even be fun to ask her to source me #10 cans of muddy turtle. When I have the time and energy, I mess with her a little bit and ask her questions about her company's products that I know she can't answer. Last week I wondered out loud why my new silverware presoak costs twice as much per portion as the product they discontinued. Go figure I am still waiting on an answer. This afternoon she sent me 48 cans of crappy orange juice instead of Tropicana. Granted they are much less expensive, but the juice is made from concentrate from Florida, Brazil + Mexico. Most importantly, you look like an asshole serving a 007 made with canned OJ to one of the professional drinkers or bartenders that encompass 90% of our clientele. At first, I thought it might be partially my fault for not specifying Tropicana, but it is the only kind we have ever used in 32 months here and I wrote 24/10z on my order. The bottom line is that it just gets old when someone screws up something on your order every single week. If you went to the same restaurant every Wednesday and the server or BOH made some sort of error every time, how many Wednesdays would you keep coming back?
"Blue" Rocks
"Blue" Rocks
Okay, now I have finally popped my KC posting cherry, I would like to
share an experience that I was fortunate enough to encounter yesterday.
My girlfriend plays softball for the college we attend and they are
responsible for certain fundraising. A local Single-A baseball team is
a common host for their fundraising. This has been my fourth year
volunteering here at the stadium.
Whenever we spend our time at the ballpark we always end up working
concession, however, there were five of us who had a "special"
project. We got to work the outdoor picnic pavillion. Not only was it
a humid one hundred degrees outside, and I happened to be on vacation
from work, but I got to stand over a hot grill. I started thinking to
myself, "This is fucking bullshit!"
The manager came over to us and explained our tasks. Maybe it was the
heat and shock that I was working on a day off, but I started to
fantasize this as a Top Chef quickfire challenge. Delusion began to
blur together with reality as he said we were about to get a rush of
200+ guests.
There was a steam table and salad bar set up next to my grill. The
other volunteers were to serve the food to the guests from the steam
table. This is when I found out that the hotdogs and hamburgers were
already cooked. He explained to me that there was no way possible that
I could cook off 200 hot dogs and 200 hamburgers. I was there an hour
before they showed up. Really? Well maybe he planned on having a
Canadian from W 2nd St. coming in and wanted to be prepared... I dont
know.
This is when I was told that I had to have food on the grill at all
times. He said that it was basically for show and that it didn't
matter if I burned anything, but throw it away and put more on the
grill.
First off, I hate to throw out food and I always try and use as much
of the product as possible. Secondly, I was told to keep the burgers
and dogs on the grill, knowing that they would burn or dry out no
matter how many times they were turned. This was the complete opposite
result of what I had been acheiving in my cooking career.
Since I had to have the food on the grill, I quickly brainstormed on
how I could waste less food. I realized that the hot dogs had been
cooked on a hot dog roller and that I could mark them on the grill,
then just switch them out.
At the end of the night there was half a hotel pan of burgers, baked
beans and pulled chicken. There was a full pan of pulled pork. We were
told to throw everything away. Like Fucking really? And we wonder why
our World sucks so bad. Ignorant people! Hence the "Blue" in Blue
Rocks. They are not only bad at baseball, but terrible with food waste
and cost.
Don't say "burn" around me. Don't say "crack" either, unless you got some.
It comes with the territory. We burn ourselves everyday. Sometimes we don't even notice. 10 years ago at the Ale House I accidentally put my hand in the deep fryer up to my second knuckle. Blister fingers. Gross. We've all experienced those busy services when we get splashed with hot oil bursting from a soft shell crab or the countless times we find the oven rack with our forearm (why can't we learn). Sometime we don't have time to notice.
This lovely burn on my right arm happened while I was explaining to my lunch cook that our hot oven was dirtier than Whitney and Bobby's crack pipe. I guess he didn't believe me (or wanted to compare their crack pipe to his own) and swiftly moved in for a closer look. In the process he hit my arm with the oven door.
I put it under warm water as was told to me by a chef a long time ago. She said it evens out the pain in the nerves and will inhibit blistering. So many people assume just run cold water over it. Cold water does more harm in a kitchen because as the wound warms back up to 80+ degrees it hurts far worse. When a burn happens your nerves start freaking out. Why confuse them even more? Aren't things confusing enough as it is?
the great lasagna fiasco of summer '10
It hurts me to admit that I serve frozen lasagna, but I have my reasons and I believe they have merit. It is made in-house from scratch (aside from the frozen pasta sheets that I get from a great company in Pocomoke City), assembled, portioned and frozen. To serve, it spends 4-5 minutes in our "alternative" oven and 7-8 minutes in the convection oven. ideally, that's thirteen menus for lasagna baked to order. How many restaurants actually have lasagna on their daily menu? How do they execute it? At the last old school red jointI worked, we only served it on Thursdays and Saturdays and full pans went from the freezer to the oven for an hour and then to the steam table. We always had a backup @ the ready on Saturdays when we would usually sell a pan and a half (refreezing the remainder, of course), but otherwise the lasagna you were served @ 8:00 had been sitting on the heat for four hours. It was still delicious, even @ 10:00, but not exactly my idea of a perfect product. The reason I like it how we do it now is that every order tastes exactly the same and my 100% yield nets me a FC around 10%. Once in a while, we get a little backed up because of our low-wattage Tour Bus, but it is has never come close to being an issue in my thirty-one months here. That changed on Thursday night and it wasn't pretty.
Long, shitty story short (but still shitty), we sold 10 orders of lasagna that night. We won't sell 10 in the entire month of September. Basically, our alternative oven shit the bed at some point when the 27-top (a la carte, made a 7:30 reservation @ 5:30) ordered six @ once and we just couldn't thaw out the frozen fuckers fast enough. In hindsight, i may have tried an alternative method of defrosting, but I had my head firmly inserted in my ass with all the saute dishes (and the walk-ins that should have never been seated without at least a 30 minute wait). So, should lasagna come off the menu, should I find a better way to do it or should I stop trying to put out "quality" food in second-rate Italian restaurants?
Have a great weekend, Chefs (03:49).
Long, shitty story short (but still shitty), we sold 10 orders of lasagna that night. We won't sell 10 in the entire month of September. Basically, our alternative oven shit the bed at some point when the 27-top (a la carte, made a 7:30 reservation @ 5:30) ordered six @ once and we just couldn't thaw out the frozen fuckers fast enough. In hindsight, i may have tried an alternative method of defrosting, but I had my head firmly inserted in my ass with all the saute dishes (and the walk-ins that should have never been seated without at least a 30 minute wait). So, should lasagna come off the menu, should I find a better way to do it or should I stop trying to put out "quality" food in second-rate Italian restaurants?
Have a great weekend, Chefs (03:49).
there is also a sign on the TP dispenser reminding them to wipe their ass
Chris "Chx Atlantis" Greene
www.kitchenconvoluted.com
sent from my mobile cow uniform
Ode To That Fucking Bucket With a Tiny Crack In It
Oh God I hate you. With all the fury and fire of a thousand white hot, pre-super nova stars i hate you. Why for the life of me the dishwashers can't understand "Throw this fucking thing away or I will call INS!" I will never understand. Why for the life of me I keep forgetting that the square 5 gallon bucket with the red lines on the side is the devil, i will also never understand. Why i never seem to have the time to throw the fucker in the trash myself is all my fault. At least a half dozen times you've flooded my saute station with blanching cold ass water. The actual amount of brine you've let drip all over the floor in the walk in will never be known.
But no more. Today was your last. Your last soggy ass Airwalk (worst shoes ever, behind chucks, in a kitchen), your last buffalo chili spill, your last vinaigrette drip. Today I put you in the dumpster myself. Fuck you, you fucking fuck.
Amen
But no more. Today was your last. Your last soggy ass Airwalk (worst shoes ever, behind chucks, in a kitchen), your last buffalo chili spill, your last vinaigrette drip. Today I put you in the dumpster myself. Fuck you, you fucking fuck.
Amen
titles
In my checkered sixteen years of restaurant work, I have held many positions. Ninety-three percent have been less than desirable and have ranged from dishwasher, salad bitch, fryer bitch, head fryer bitch, line cook, chef de partie, lead chef de partie, sous chef, executive sous chef (even when there were no other sous chefs?), kitchen manager, chef de cuisine, executive chef and assistant director of blame coordination. As a certain former owner (glorified pretzel salesman actually) once told me, "just like none of your staff knows what it is like to be executive chef, none of you understand what it is like to be an owner." I recently had an informal interview for a new opportunity and what stuck with me most was the owner telling me that he's not stuck on titles. That's a deal breaker if I've ever heard one and I'd love to hear some of your opinions on the subject.
Chris "Chx Atlantis" Greene
www.kitchenconvoluted.com
sent from my mobile cow uniform
Chris "Chx Atlantis" Greene
www.kitchenconvoluted.com
sent from my mobile cow uniform
Controlled Chaos
Problem solving is 95% of our jobs as chefs. Writing the menu is the easy part. Hiring the cooks is the easy part. Checking our email is the easy part.
Then there is the staff training, the dealing with a dozen farmers and specialty purveyors, and the obscure email conversations that tend to spin the information into an almost new language. During a busy service things can become very confused very fast. All the prep work and the shared information can suddenly become this cloud of convoluted kitchen nonsense. It is in those moments that we put all of our cunning to the test. We have to untie the knots. We have to restring the instruments mid solo. We have to put out the fires before they become wild.
When problems happen the easiest thing to do (usually our first reaction) is to get frustrated. I say things like, "Really?...really?...wow." Then I start blinking a lot. Then more often than not, split decisions are made and the problems go away. I wish I could skip past the frustration every time. Last week I observed my Chef problem solving the shit out of a Sunday lunch/brunch service. We ended that service with 310 covers and $12,000 in sales. I noticed very little frustration, and believe me he had plenty to get frustrated about. Instead he deflected problems back on their source or in the general direction of the lunch cooks, which I have to say is quite entertaining to the rest of us prepping for dinner service.
Solving problems in a busy restaurant requires creativity. It requires knowing when to rely on instinct and when to trust your sources. It requires gathering as much information available in the shortest amount of time and getting the problem solved and out of the way before the next one happens.
As chefs we solve so many problems in a day, half the time we can't even remember what exactly it is we are bitching about. :)
Then there is the staff training, the dealing with a dozen farmers and specialty purveyors, and the obscure email conversations that tend to spin the information into an almost new language. During a busy service things can become very confused very fast. All the prep work and the shared information can suddenly become this cloud of convoluted kitchen nonsense. It is in those moments that we put all of our cunning to the test. We have to untie the knots. We have to restring the instruments mid solo. We have to put out the fires before they become wild.
When problems happen the easiest thing to do (usually our first reaction) is to get frustrated. I say things like, "Really?...really?...wow." Then I start blinking a lot. Then more often than not, split decisions are made and the problems go away. I wish I could skip past the frustration every time. Last week I observed my Chef problem solving the shit out of a Sunday lunch/brunch service. We ended that service with 310 covers and $12,000 in sales. I noticed very little frustration, and believe me he had plenty to get frustrated about. Instead he deflected problems back on their source or in the general direction of the lunch cooks, which I have to say is quite entertaining to the rest of us prepping for dinner service.
Solving problems in a busy restaurant requires creativity. It requires knowing when to rely on instinct and when to trust your sources. It requires gathering as much information available in the shortest amount of time and getting the problem solved and out of the way before the next one happens.
As chefs we solve so many problems in a day, half the time we can't even remember what exactly it is we are bitching about. :)
Come ooooon winter!
I have never been more anxious for a summer to end in all my life. this summer has been slower than we expected but not slower than we planned for. the only other time i was close to this not thrilled with a summer was 2 years ago when we opened Stingray, down the beach. Fuck resort work. Fuck it right in the ass. The only way ill step foot into a kitchen in a resort town is if i am either visiting it, or owning it.
Anybody have a different story or is this the consensus?
also, not drinking is way friggin over rated. just saying.
Shatty
Anybody have a different story or is this the consensus?
also, not drinking is way friggin over rated. just saying.
Shatty
What makes a Chef?`
I was thinking about what the difference is between a chef and a cook. Does a Chef have to have a degree, does a degree make you a chef? I know the difference between a cold and the flu, but I don't call myself a doctor. What about us kitchen workers who have been have learned on the job, can we not call ourselves Chefs? What are the signs that we are no longer cooks and have become chefs? Is it in the job title? Wikipedia says a chef is someone who cooks professionally. So does that mean homeboy down at the corner bar who heats up frozen meat patties in a microwave is a chef?
It is that "time of the month"( menu change) at work and I have been seriously doubting my abilities recently. We changed the menu on Thursday and that normally translates into two long days of changing and tweaking recipes. But it has been five days and I am still getting beat-up daily. Every dish requires 7+ components. So many things can't be made until service and that makes life extremely tough. I am in the weeds at 5pm every night running around trying to get all the prep done. Shit I am in the weeds at noon when I look at the prep list.
I like to be challenged it makes me feel alive and certainly helps with my short attention span. I hate giving up more then I hate Bon Jovi, but do I throw the towel in and ask for help? My boss told me I would hate him after having to prep this menu, I am starting to very quickly. Oh, his ass is on vacation so it is not like he is around to help. Today I am going in at 1030 and hopefully kicking this prep in the nuts. I will keep you posted.
One quick Pastry story. Our Blonde Pastry chef went to some pastry gathering and decided her bag was to heavy so she came up with the brilliant idea that she would CARRY her knife kit on the plane. That didn't work out for her
Restaurant Review Sites
Can I just drop a quick rant...
If you come into my spot, and for some reason you don't like something... don't send me fucking emails about how "lucky" I am you didn't "post this" on Yelp or Trip Advisor and you came to me first. Just go post it on the damn site. I don't live and die by my online reviews on a site where any old blow hard with a computer and an Internet connection can just write up a "review" about whatever is the most important factor to them in a dine out experience. Oh, and, I don't fucking care if you cook at home. Everybody wants to tell you how to run a restaurant, why don't some of these people take the plunge. See what it's like to be referred to as "wait person" or "cook". This country still has a lot to figure out when it comes to mutual respect for the people who spend their lives feeding other people. Fuck the public. I've said it before, I will say it again, this business would be great if it weren't for the people.
Wow, that felt good. 8 a.m... Time to go to the farmers market...
If you come into my spot, and for some reason you don't like something... don't send me fucking emails about how "lucky" I am you didn't "post this" on Yelp or Trip Advisor and you came to me first. Just go post it on the damn site. I don't live and die by my online reviews on a site where any old blow hard with a computer and an Internet connection can just write up a "review" about whatever is the most important factor to them in a dine out experience. Oh, and, I don't fucking care if you cook at home. Everybody wants to tell you how to run a restaurant, why don't some of these people take the plunge. See what it's like to be referred to as "wait person" or "cook". This country still has a lot to figure out when it comes to mutual respect for the people who spend their lives feeding other people. Fuck the public. I've said it before, I will say it again, this business would be great if it weren't for the people.
Wow, that felt good. 8 a.m... Time to go to the farmers market...
Thursdays in July
Thursday used to be one of our busier nights, not so much from a sales standpoint, but a lot of folks strolled through, keeping the bar pretty full from 5:30 to close. On Thursdays, we do two small plates for $5 each to showcase our diversity and draw a HH crowd. Two and half years ago, the intention was to dispell the notion that fine dining meant overpriced entrees and to focus on the fact that many items on our menu are available in small portions. We also paired each dish with a $5 wine BTG to advertise the affordability of our house pours. That was a long time ago. It has since deviolved into a way for our regulars to eat on the cheap (spend $10 instead of $28) and we stopped the featured wines alltogether. Some even bitch about the portions! Instead of 5:30 to 7:30, it now goes all night unless I pull the plug and I am lucky to sell two or three of each no matter how good, weather-appropriate or discounted they might be. That said, I now put as little effort as possible into them so I don't get discouraged when they waste my energy. I use only ingredients that I need to move and only a la minute. To-night is a little different and I am anxious to see what happens. I got a sample of smoked mozzarella ravioli from Joseph's and I am serving them with a couple of seared shrimp and a carrot puree that I fished out of my demi stock last night. Not bad for $5. I would have pureed the veggies anyway and who knows about the sample. They were unsolicited, by the way, because everyone knows that I can't stand samples. All you are doing is giving me something that I (a) am never going to buy, (b) now have to receive/store/ find a way to use and (c) never asked for in the first place. It's like giving someone more work to do for no reason. What if someone dropped 100 pounds of mulch on your driveway without your consent just because you happen to have a yard? I know you are asking, "What about staff meal?" I promise to start feeding those ungrateful FOH fuckers as soon as the first one asks me if I need a cold beverage. My mom worked at the bank for 25 years and not once was she handed money when she came to work just because that's the business she was in.
So, just a deuce and a four so far with four more @ 8:00. I wonder if we will blame the low volume on the rain, the heat or the season premiere of Jersey Shore. I bet the Olive Garden has a line around the building by now.
sent from my mobile cow uniform
So, just a deuce and a four so far with four more @ 8:00. I wonder if we will blame the low volume on the rain, the heat or the season premiere of Jersey Shore. I bet the Olive Garden has a line around the building by now.
sent from my mobile cow uniform
Tall Ceilings
The other day I found one of my best cooks making rope with butcher twine. When I asked her the purpose she told me she is planning on hanging herself. I said I'd allow it if she first prepped for me 150 mini crab cakes and did a quick tidy up in the walk in.It was a rough Sunday in our kitchen. I am broken hearted and feel a sort of numb. I read the post "Heard about your boy" and realized there are 1000's of us in the industry having a bad time. You can live and die by this work and have nothing in the end. Weird shit. No time to grieve now. It is go time. We lose soldiers. We lose legends. We come and go and pass through each other's lives. He's my boy and he's your boy. No time to look back now. There are more people to feed and obviously some training to do.
8 to 80, blind, crippled or crazy
That curious time is upon us when all the prep is (hopefully) done and the waiting game has begun. We picked up a few reservations, but nothing out of the ordinary for a Saturday in July. It has been hovering in the 90Fs all day, and, even with huge pots of pasta water and 30# of bones roasting, it barely broke one hundred. This leaves me with a good feeling about dinner service, especially since the bulk of the book starts in ten minutes and ends by 8:00. The theory being that it will at least be a quick swelter until, of course, the secondary waiting game begins and I focus on shutting down the kitchen for two days. By then, I am usually so adrenalized and overheated, that it is impossible to stop cleaning or otherwise find ways to ignore the syrupy countdown to ten o'clock.
In any case, best of luck to you to-night, chefs. I know you aren't all in the middle of a record heatwave, but summertime in any kitchen is no pool party. I have found myself recently developing great respect for landscapers and roofers, though most of them are probably home with their loved ones right now. Watch...to-night I will meet some mutant badass who landscapes during the day and then works saute @ some 220 cover joint for extra weekend cash.
Chris "Chx Atlantis" Greene
www.kitchenconvoluted.com
sent from my mobile cow uniform
In any case, best of luck to you to-night, chefs. I know you aren't all in the middle of a record heatwave, but summertime in any kitchen is no pool party. I have found myself recently developing great respect for landscapers and roofers, though most of them are probably home with their loved ones right now. Watch...to-night I will meet some mutant badass who landscapes during the day and then works saute @ some 220 cover joint for extra weekend cash.
Chris "Chx Atlantis" Greene
www.kitchenconvoluted.com
sent from my mobile cow uniform
Heard about your boy
On Sunday afternoon, a unusual day off for me, got to go for a wonderful bike ride with Shatty through the city. We talked about life, restaurants, and the two best things that came out of New Jersey. He also mentioned that he saw an old co-workers of ours and may of the contributors of this blog. This former co-worker had gotten fired from his job of 10+ years after numerous chances to behave himself. The "Old-Man" was a serious drinker but also unreliable and horrible to work with. But I have a soft spot for him and I feel really bad for him right now. He was kicked out of his apartment and is now living at the shelter with no prospects of a job. Has he hit rock bottom? Is this good for him in a, you need to learn a lesson, kind of way? Should I go give him 20 bucks? I can't say I have ever known anyone who has fallen this far.
One of my amazing co-workers got fired last Friday night. The owner drove two hours from her vacation house to fire him. He was two hours late, again. He was a pain in the ass to work with. Besides the obviously not learning the menu, he could not close the door behind him or even wash his hands after taking the trash out. I don't mind reminding co-workers to do certain things, god knows I forget too, but washing your hands!? Gross. This is one of the servers who would get upset when he was not tipped more then 20%.
The sad part is he had a baby girl three weeks ago. He got a lot of slack due to the fact of newborn excitement and sleepless nights. Everyone felt bad for his wife and child. I could not imagine going home and telling my wife I got fired weeks after she carried my child for nine months. We have debated whether he knew he was on thin-ice or not. Some people think he wanted to get fired to collect unemployment, I do not think he is or will ever be that smart.
He was told he could no longer work with us at 7pm, just before service, and was allowed to stay and work that evening. I have only been fired a few times and each time I did not stay and work my shift. I wish him luck and hope everything works out for his family.
Now for some good news. After many long hours and consecutive days I was given a raise and a promotion, which I did not ask for. I loath asking for a raise. Nothing makes me happier then when a owner/superior recognizes my hard work. It feels so good to know the little things are noticed and appreciated.
Why so serious?
How often do we think about a guest's "total experience?" Were they greeted kindly and did they feel a warm welcome as they walked into a perfectly set dining room where servers and back servers look and act completely professional? Was their food served gracefully from the left? Were the oldest women at the table served first starting the hierarchy all the way down to the youngest male? Did they find their food to be cooked above and beyond their expectations? Did it pair perfectly with the wine that was recommended? Did they leave feeling like their money was well spent?
I think about these things all the time. I was told today not to take it too seriously. I don't want to step on anyone's toes, nor do I want others to do the same to me. I notice flaws in my cooks daily. I do my best to point those flaws out. I really try hard to help my cooks conquer their weaknesses. I want them to have higher expectations for themselves than I do. They never will. I completely understand that no one is perfect. I certainly am no different. We all make mistakes. Balls are dropped. It happens. As long as we have our eyes set on becoming the best we can be, then those mistakes are easily forgiven.
Every restaurant has employees who all have a different level of commitment to their job. It is easy for people to forget that it is not about them. IT IS ALL ABOUT THE GUEST EXPERIENCE! Every detail matters. When all the details fall into place, magic is born. I can remember only a small number of dining experiences where I was thoroughly impressed with the quality of "total experience." I eat fine dining a couple times/month. Sometimes the food is great, but the server is a jack off. Other times I have a wonderfully attentive server doing his/her best to make up for the kitchen errors.
The fact of the matter is that it is not easy. If it were easy, everyone would do it. Do you know why I take it so seriously? One reason is because I never think good enough will ever be good enough. Another reason is that it can be quite contagious. Good cooks and servers alike will get inspired and excited about providing the best overall experience around. I love getting them fired up about being the best they can be.
My request to you chefs: Never accept good enough, however accept that baby steps are still forward progress. Thanks for listening, seriously.
I think about these things all the time. I was told today not to take it too seriously. I don't want to step on anyone's toes, nor do I want others to do the same to me. I notice flaws in my cooks daily. I do my best to point those flaws out. I really try hard to help my cooks conquer their weaknesses. I want them to have higher expectations for themselves than I do. They never will. I completely understand that no one is perfect. I certainly am no different. We all make mistakes. Balls are dropped. It happens. As long as we have our eyes set on becoming the best we can be, then those mistakes are easily forgiven.
Every restaurant has employees who all have a different level of commitment to their job. It is easy for people to forget that it is not about them. IT IS ALL ABOUT THE GUEST EXPERIENCE! Every detail matters. When all the details fall into place, magic is born. I can remember only a small number of dining experiences where I was thoroughly impressed with the quality of "total experience." I eat fine dining a couple times/month. Sometimes the food is great, but the server is a jack off. Other times I have a wonderfully attentive server doing his/her best to make up for the kitchen errors.
The fact of the matter is that it is not easy. If it were easy, everyone would do it. Do you know why I take it so seriously? One reason is because I never think good enough will ever be good enough. Another reason is that it can be quite contagious. Good cooks and servers alike will get inspired and excited about providing the best overall experience around. I love getting them fired up about being the best they can be.
My request to you chefs: Never accept good enough, however accept that baby steps are still forward progress. Thanks for listening, seriously.
not so much the heat...
...but the flannel thong that I (so poorly) chose to wear to work to-day. Seriously, I have decided to stop focusing on all the negatives about 100+ working conditions and instead concentrate on all the positives. Feel free to add your own (and stay cool)....
1. cheese melts WAY faster
2. NO chance of running out of softened butter for mounting
3. a whole new level of respect for equipment that holds @ 38F
4. cold storage inventory isn't such a chore
5. asparagus almost blanches itself
6. that icy, cold one (or thirteen) after work is that much more special
7. the floor is dry almost as soon as you finish mopping
8. proofing dough, caramelizing onions, etc. takes half as long
9. heat stroke has nearly the same effect as a "trip to the Dumpster"
1. cheese melts WAY faster
2. NO chance of running out of softened butter for mounting
3. a whole new level of respect for equipment that holds @ 38F
4. cold storage inventory isn't such a chore
5. asparagus almost blanches itself
6. that icy, cold one (or thirteen) after work is that much more special
7. the floor is dry almost as soon as you finish mopping
8. proofing dough, caramelizing onions, etc. takes half as long
9. heat stroke has nearly the same effect as a "trip to the Dumpster"
the love
cornstarch is absolutely correct. we do this because we love it. i make shit money, am always in danger of not paying this bill or that bill, but goddamnit, i love doing what i do. back in 1998, i was a broke college student crawling back to his hometown with his tail between his legs due to being expelled from two different schools in washington (ps whole nother story). i'd worked in fast food in high school (didn't we all?) but had no love or passion for food. my grandmother was very picky about what and where she ate and she really liked this local irish pub. we went all the time and one day they asked me if i needed a job. i filled out an app and two days later was on the line for the first time. i kept the job as i struggled my way back into college, strictly as a source of income, mostly for my addiction (at the time) to star wars toys and, uh...other...stuff. i got my first degree in 2002, a two year degree in computer software support, right as the bottom dropped out of the tech industry. all the dotcoms going bankrupt and whatnot. but upon graduation i quit my job thinking i was gonna get a tech support job somewhere...i mean, i'm a college graduate!
wrong.
so i kept going to school, and got my job back. i took it more seriously this time around, and really honestly tried to do a better job of running the kitchen and making nicer food and all that. i started to get into it. and it all kinda runs together here in my brain, but i kept going and got a four year degree (bachelors of applied science, emphasis on business management), and kept rocking in the kitchen. i finally quit, thinking i was getting a management trainee position at a rent-to-own furniture store (BIG mistake) and after i got fired after three months i wound up in a kitchen again.
and i've been here ever since.
sure, with my degrees i could go get some other job, wearing khakis and a corporate polo shirt, making bank, owning a house and all that...the ideal life that i only see on tv. instead, i decided a long time ago that the kitchen was a good place for me; a filthy mouthed hooligan with a taste for illicit substances, someone who should by all rights be kept away from the general public. in the kitchen i can wear dirty slayer t-shirts and nobody complains. in an 8 hour shift i say fuck at least a hundred times and it's all good. i get way more smoke breaks than anybody who works in an office. i constantly verbally berate the very customers that ensure i have a job and they never hear me.
and then there's the food...the food...
i decided a long time ago that there was something very honorable about choosing to cook for a living. it's not the most glamorous position in the world. it's often thankless and annoying, it's always hot as hell and dangerous to a degree that most jobs aren't, and it takes a very specific mindset to put up with it day in and day out. but no matter where you are, or what your economic conditions are, you're gonna go get some food one of these days. and somebody's gotta make that food.
and that somebody is me. and cornstarch. and mad redux. and p-drop. and all the other cooks that write and read this blog. we're a special breed, folks. recognize us.
wrong.
so i kept going to school, and got my job back. i took it more seriously this time around, and really honestly tried to do a better job of running the kitchen and making nicer food and all that. i started to get into it. and it all kinda runs together here in my brain, but i kept going and got a four year degree (bachelors of applied science, emphasis on business management), and kept rocking in the kitchen. i finally quit, thinking i was getting a management trainee position at a rent-to-own furniture store (BIG mistake) and after i got fired after three months i wound up in a kitchen again.
and i've been here ever since.
sure, with my degrees i could go get some other job, wearing khakis and a corporate polo shirt, making bank, owning a house and all that...the ideal life that i only see on tv. instead, i decided a long time ago that the kitchen was a good place for me; a filthy mouthed hooligan with a taste for illicit substances, someone who should by all rights be kept away from the general public. in the kitchen i can wear dirty slayer t-shirts and nobody complains. in an 8 hour shift i say fuck at least a hundred times and it's all good. i get way more smoke breaks than anybody who works in an office. i constantly verbally berate the very customers that ensure i have a job and they never hear me.
and then there's the food...the food...
i decided a long time ago that there was something very honorable about choosing to cook for a living. it's not the most glamorous position in the world. it's often thankless and annoying, it's always hot as hell and dangerous to a degree that most jobs aren't, and it takes a very specific mindset to put up with it day in and day out. but no matter where you are, or what your economic conditions are, you're gonna go get some food one of these days. and somebody's gotta make that food.
and that somebody is me. and cornstarch. and mad redux. and p-drop. and all the other cooks that write and read this blog. we're a special breed, folks. recognize us.
Were tough ~> 20 fucking %
I wanted to touch on one of Mikey's older posts about toughness. Cutting and burning ourselves sucks but is expected in our line of work. I always say "I wont do that again" each time I do something stupid in the kitchen. If you asked some banker what would be the worst part of working in a kitchen they would say the heat, burns, or cutting themselves. But the real hard part is the mental toughness we all must have. Working a 12 hour shift over and over and over requires mental toughness that most people can not imagine. Ask most people about a 12+ hour shift and they will have no idea what the hell that is like. Then tell them you will be on your feet, the entire time, standing in 100+ degree heat. It is what I think of when I hear about North Korean prison camps. It takes unique individuals to withstand punishment like that day in and day out for little money.
We all settle for little money because we LOVE our jobs.
I know many of you personally and I sure all of us are smarter then most CEO's of any "Made in a far off land" product. We could all be making 100-250k for doing a lot less work and dining in all of our fine restaurants. Instead we work in nasty conditions for long hours and make shit money. So as you can imagine when servers bitch about money I get a little upset. I have calmed down tremendously in my ripe age of 31 I rarely yell or throw items in arms reach because it is stupid and I would rather fuck with you for weeks then let you see me crack. I use this blog to get my frustrations out because at least you guys will understand.
If you come to eat at my restaurant the line on the check will be filled out for you and you will pay 20%. So the "hand bitches", my new name for servers, do nothing and will make in one night what I make in a week. Customers regularly leave bottles of wine behind and even tip extra. The other day one of the servers was bitching about not making more then 20% on a check. The table left them 3 $60 bottles of wine. Really?? Go somewhere other then where you are right now, and when you get there fuck yourself hand bitch. No one comes here for the bloody service, THEY COME FOR THE FOOD!! All you do is take a plate form point A to point B and repeat. They are like a scratched records playing songs we all hate.
This all happened near the end of a 12 day marathon at work. Many were 12+ hour days and every one was harder then the next. So I asked for one of the bottles and she said no, and then I left without saying goodbye, which is incredible immature. She realized what happened and chased me down the street to give me a bottle, I refused and told her no one waits to eat here because of the service. I am sure she is still trying to figure what I meant, she may even gotten lost walking back to the restaurant, it was dark out. This servers also knows how much money I make an hour. Would any of you go a restaurant with bad food because of the service?? Maybe Hooters?
Lettuce Marshmallow
Basic marshmallow recipe with much less sugar but sub in lettuce juice ( blanch and shock lettuce then mix and strain adding a few pieces of chard help with the color). We used this a on a tuna caesar. I am going to attempt to make a watermelon marshmallow and add drops of balsamic redux to each square. I want the balsamic to look like it is hanging in the middle of the watermelon. Think of the rose in Bill Murray's bowling ball in the movie Kingpin. Lettuce marshmallows sound much cooler then they taste. I think they guests sometimes like things because of the WOW factor.
Happy Holiday, Chefs
The subject of music in the kitchen came up before and, since I'm watching Pasta Dropper drop no pasta @present, I thought I might expound. Only three times in my life have I heard that it was unacceptable and every time it amazed me. The first time was by the owner of a pretty reknowned (and since shuttered 2,5 times) local brewpub who prefaced his statement with "and I'm sure (me) will agree with me," when he said that we would argue too much over what to play. When I was @ the shitty Italian place and we pumped Power99 24/7, I didn't say a word because I was the only white guy and music is music when you're making back to back to back shrimp all rosas with five burners and nary a bain-marie.
The second time was under a lunatic Irish chef from Bermuda via German apprenticeship and he didn't tolerate music, whistling, loud noises or banter. I had a little alarm clock radio down by pantry that we listened to WSTW on and it not only had to be turned off when he was around, but, especially if the owner was in the building, it had to be unplugged. At least I got to teach my dishwashers some English before he strolled in @ 2:00.
The last instance threw me a bit. My soul brother, who turned me onto KW and used to work the remote on the 3-CD changer in the kitchen @ some silly tavern ("Rob...pita!!!") back in the day, no longer allows music in his kitchen. I understand that, during service, background noise can get in the way of the necessary comminication involved in perfect food, but, kept at a reasonable level, my music (sorry, but its my kitchen and my iPod) is@ once motivational, constructively "distractive" and wholly necessary. Not to mention getting a Reba that guarantees you a blissful run to clear the 9:00 board. Did I mention Kleaning to Korn? Thoughts?
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www.kitchenconvoluted.blogspot.com
The second time was under a lunatic Irish chef from Bermuda via German apprenticeship and he didn't tolerate music, whistling, loud noises or banter. I had a little alarm clock radio down by pantry that we listened to WSTW on and it not only had to be turned off when he was around, but, especially if the owner was in the building, it had to be unplugged. At least I got to teach my dishwashers some English before he strolled in @ 2:00.
The last instance threw me a bit. My soul brother, who turned me onto KW and used to work the remote on the 3-CD changer in the kitchen @ some silly tavern ("Rob...pita!!!") back in the day, no longer allows music in his kitchen. I understand that, during service, background noise can get in the way of the necessary comminication involved in perfect food, but, kept at a reasonable level, my music (sorry, but its my kitchen and my iPod) is@ once motivational, constructively "distractive" and wholly necessary. Not to mention getting a Reba that guarantees you a blissful run to clear the 9:00 board. Did I mention Kleaning to Korn? Thoughts?
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www.kitchenconvoluted.blogspot.com
eager to please
sent from one convoluted f'ing kitchen
www.kitchenconvoluted.blogspot.com
volume
I was just rereading CanIGetaWhatWhat's quotes from graduation weekend and it made me ponder fondly about volume. Twenty-eight tenderloins on the board? I am currently selling more steaks than ever, roughly 10% of my sales, and I might sell 28 a week max. Part of me misses that kind of volume and the ordering/staffing/menuing freedoms that come with it, but getting your ass kicked day in and day out takes a toll. I want to hear about your volume and what it means to you; whether it be 4:00 checklists, getting four prime vendor deliveries a week,a third dishwasher or whatever. This was also sparked by hearing that a certainly awesome local place does 1500-2000 covers a night. How do you prep for that? I can't even fathom the planning or what it takes to pull it off, especially at the level at which I'm sure they do. I guess this business is just starting to eat away at my brain faster than this damn olive juice.
Produce this
Our produce normally is delivered between 830-10. So at 1230 someone called and they said they were less then 25 minutes away. I called at 2pm and they said less then 30 minutes. At 230 my boss called them from his car and they said it would be there very soon, he had no idea it had not arrived. At 5 we called again and they had left for the weekend.
Don't lie to me, just tell me you aren't coming so I can plan accordingly.
hotter than a beeyotch
i don't know how i do it. i don't know how we do it, day in and day out (or at least every summer). it's hot in the kitchen. goddamn hot. sometimes it's hot, sometimes it's really hot. last night the thermometers on line were all reading between 104 and 110. i kept grabbing salad plates and thinking they were right out of the dishwasher but they were just hot from sitting there, five feet away from the pizza oven. and it was muggy in there too, and smoky for the first part of the day cause we were smoking pork loins for our special (the smoker is right outside the back door). anyway, it was f**king hot. so we did the old wet towel in the freezer bit. anybody else ever do that? a few clean, wet towels go into the freezer, then wrapped around our necks. it's something i've seen variations on in every kitchen i've ever worked. also, it's not at all uncommon to see cases of otter pops in the freezer. anyway, does anybody have any kickass staying cool tips for me, or is my kitchen the only one that's routinely 100+ degrees on the line?
Crazy Ex-Employer
Tonight one of my ex-bosses is coming in for dinner. She is an irrational, spiteful, miserable cunt. I still remember the day she said " I HATE YOU.." Really? why? Because I call you out on your bullshit?. 2+2=4 bitch, not 3. Her bar is the only one I have been thrown out of sober and the only former employer I do not speak with. She is also the only woman on Facebook to block me that I did not sleep with.
She will be in with a few other former co-workers and they are sitting in the kitchen. I have spoken with the girl who booked the party and she told me she would get her liquored up beforehand. I am not sure that will stop her from saying something mean and nasty it might just make the crazy come out sooner. I spoke with the owner of my restaurant and told her my concerns. She will be hanging out tonight and hopefully keeping the peace. I can see her saying she hates each course and making a scene.
This scenario is making me nauseous. Wish me luck.
an open letter to my 10:00 three-top
You can call me soft or old or what have you, but my late night dining days are over and I turn into a bitch @ ten o'clock. My kitchen closes then for a reason and that is a big part of why I do what I do where I do. We are not a bank where getting in before the door is locked gives you carte blanche. Of course we have the occasional asshole (more often than not one of "really good" customers) that comes in @ 9:55 or dilly dallies until then to prove that the customer is really the boss and I accept that. However, strolling in @ 9:50 and ordering three courses @ 9:59:40 makes you a world class DB and I know you know better. If you don't, then you are an even sorrier excuse for a person. Now, I don't have to leave @ 10:00 or even before 11:00 if circumstances or volume dictate, but I'm not going stand around while you nibble like you are in the Big City. Don't get me wrong: if I owned the joint, we'd be open until 1:00, seven days a week. I wouldn't be there, of course, but that is a moot point anyway. In short, I understand that you can't stand being home with your own family and you can sit and drink until the FOH kicks you out (between 11:00 and 1:00 depending on how "good" a customer you really are), but, as far as keeping me from my family, you can kiss my ass. I hope you enjoyed your meal.
Chefs, I would love your thoughts on this issue since I know it is a sore spot for anyone in a kitchen. In light of a down economy and sinking sales figures, I should be happy to have any customers I can get, right?
sent from my mobile martini shaker
Chefs, I would love your thoughts on this issue since I know it is a sore spot for anyone in a kitchen. In light of a down economy and sinking sales figures, I should be happy to have any customers I can get, right?
sent from my mobile martini shaker
a question of viability
So I did a lot of thinking during my vacation, but very little of it involved the restaurant. I didn't come up with any new recipes, marketing strategies or ways to combat the dirtbag servers. Instead, I focused on enjoying the rest and relaxation and the two amazing ladies in my life. The problem is that the restaurant just isn't in a position to be fixed. Nothing I can do is going to take it to the next level and, quite honestly, it doesn't deserve it. When the GM spends 90% of a 35-hour workweek sitting at the bar bullshitting with the regulars between smoke breaks (every ten minutes and in front of the restaurant dressed in a chef's jacket no less), then my efforts are an exercise in futility. Now that summer is upon us and business is further in the toilet, I am starting to think that this operation is doomed from a foundational basis. I have been sticking it out because of the sweet schedule and the family time it gives me, but it might be smart to put all that behind me and be the first rat off the ship. Any thoughts?
sent from my mobile device
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Pimp and Circumstance
Graduation Weekend here in Eugene is finally over. Saturday, Sunday, and Monday were each $20,000 days. I want to share some of my favorite quotes from the weekend:
"We are going to donkey punch the shit out of graduation weekend." (I just learned what a donkey punch means from our sweet young lady food runner)
"Did you get tickets for table C6, C3, A3, or A4? NO??? Shit!! The POS is down."
"Hey, the 40 top wants to do dinner now. Wow, it sounds kind of ridiculous when I say it out loud."
"Jesse, I have 28 tenderloins on the board all day."
"Can I get that creme brulee to go?"
"Sorry bud. I know its after five, but the last 20 top for lunch is just now ordering." 20 minutes later: "I really need that table so can you fly the 20 top?"
"The dish machine is down."
At 2:15 pm: "The 5 o'clock private party in the South Tower dining room just changed to 3 o'clock. They are on their way now."
My personal favorite: "The board is clear. We did it."
We are blessed to have such a great culinary team in the kitchen. They performed miracles. I have never been as proud of this team as I am right now. They certainly did donkey punch graduation weekend.
"We are going to donkey punch the shit out of graduation weekend." (I just learned what a donkey punch means from our sweet young lady food runner)
"Did you get tickets for table C6, C3, A3, or A4? NO??? Shit!! The POS is down."
"Hey, the 40 top wants to do dinner now. Wow, it sounds kind of ridiculous when I say it out loud."
"Jesse, I have 28 tenderloins on the board all day."
"Can I get that creme brulee to go?"
"Sorry bud. I know its after five, but the last 20 top for lunch is just now ordering." 20 minutes later: "I really need that table so can you fly the 20 top?"
"The dish machine is down."
At 2:15 pm: "The 5 o'clock private party in the South Tower dining room just changed to 3 o'clock. They are on their way now."
My personal favorite: "The board is clear. We did it."
We are blessed to have such a great culinary team in the kitchen. They performed miracles. I have never been as proud of this team as I am right now. They certainly did donkey punch graduation weekend.
Lights, Camera, Food Network
The Food Network finished two days of shooting this morning. They filmed us for a new reality show to be aired at some point. I will email everyone privately and share the air-date. I have zero desire to be on TV, but I would like to get paid like I was on TV. Anyway it was very strange and interesting at the same time. We were told that 2-3 people were coming but 6 people showed up with more film gear then I have ever seen( see picture). We could have no radio because they did not have the rights to the music. We had to turn off fans, lights, ovens, and reach-ins. They need about ten different electrical outlets for all their shit. They enjoyed sticking cameras under peoples arms to watch us cut things. I apparently they wanted to get a shot of the vacuum sealer in action and one of my co-workers had to seal something over again so they could get a shot.
When the guys were loading their car they had to walk through the kitchen. The kept walking down the line with stuff and I was thinking how dumb they were. Then suddenly the leader asked if it was cool if they brought their equipment down the line. I of course said yes. I was surprised by their knowledge of how a kitchen works. They all said "coming down" or "behind you" when they were carrying loads down to their car. I was impressed. Although they do work for the food network.
I will keep everyone posted on air date and time. My plan for wearing Kitchen Convoluted" gear never materialized.
Pastry is my new nemesis
I have been at my new place for since March and the excitement is wearing off. I now think about who is working with me and how I will counter their laziness. I loathe Tuesday more then any other day. My least favorite Pastry girl bakes the bread and our normal dishwasher is off so nothing is where it should be and the Tuesday dishwasher only takes out her trash. I dont mind taking the trash out but I can think of 25 other things I should be doing, plus I cant just take mine out I take everyones out. We also get produce late on Tuesday which can really fuck me as well as our Silvert order. Guess who puts that away? More so because it will be put away right and not just thrown in the walk-in. What really bothers me is the Pastry Department.
I just call them all "Pastry" at this point. First off they all need four towels sometimes five. This blows my mind. I actually had someone take a picture of the pastry station covered in towels. I will get the picture and post it. I find having to many rags to be like having to many lighters. When I have one lighter I am very protective of it and never let it leave my sights, when I have more then one I don't care because I have another. Well then I have no lighters. Pastry will leave rags everywhere, but my station. In the office, bathroom, dining room, you name it. But the worst part is they fucking steal rags from fellow employees. You can have the four or five you need but don't take my god damn towel.
They also fuck by turning off timers and not saying anything. Apparently the last Head Chef threw a sheet tray of burnt food across the kitchen. I know now why. Telling someone their timer went off is the least you should do. Go the extra step and open the door and check to see if something needs to come out. I don't know a lot about flour and baking soda but I know when something is close to being ruined in the oven. I take cookies and shit out of the oven all the time, not because I am super kitchen worker because I care. I also hope that Pastry will get the idea at some point. Last Saturday they were all in such a hurry to leave(by 12:30) that they left Creme brulee in the oven. Don't worry we got it out and it was fine. The joke of the day was " Is that your creme brulee in the oven?" They are also extremely good at talking over the buzzer for their own food. Just imagine hearing the buzzer and instead of scurring to turn it off you start talking louder. I constantly turnoff the timer and remind them that they have sweets in the oven. PASTRY you timer went off. The funny thing is that think it is a cute nickname.
Their laziness amazes me daily. We get a lot of food from local farmers which we use for dinner and higher end catering jobs. Strawberries are used by Pastry almost all year long and we are using them this month for dinner service. Good old Pastry will grab the strawberries closest to the door of the walk-in every time. They damn well know that production stuff gets the standard Driscolls strawberries. Now I put all dinner items on the top shelf about 6'4" off the ground. They need a step stool to get them and they would 86 something before getting a step stool. When fruit does come in with produce the only put away their food and leave the rest for us to put away. And by put away I mean take the entire flat of mixed berries and place it in the most convientant place for them and most inconveinant place for the rest of us. In less then a minute I can take them out and stack them neatly on a sheet tray. Why do they eve bother putting them in the walk-in?
Normally the waitstaff is my arch enemy, selling shit that is not even on the menu, ordering the wrong item, modifying specials. But my waitstaff is top-notch. Now my enemy is located in the kitchen with me everyday. I am on to them now, although they do not know it. I read their prep list every night and see what they will be doing the next day. Why cant they look at their prep list and say, well its 5am and at 8am the one line guy will be here and since I need to make three items that require the stove maybe I should do them first before he gets here. I assure you that NEVER fucking happens.
When I described the TV show Lost as a island which moves and leapfrogs through time. The Head Pastry Chef asked if it was a true story. That my friends it what I have dealing with. Her favorite color is Shiny (Chocolate glaze).
are you hiring?
Unemployed charcutist looking for full time work......its been 1 week since I lost my job, and it kind rules. I do miss some of them, and really miss the work, but not working is working for me. MY family and I are leaving for little rock on Friday morning....it crazy to think that i will be leaving the bountiful pacific northwest for the humid muggy dirty south. oh well change is good they say. the growing season there is unreal...and being 5-10 years behind where I am now, I like my chances.....We are heading to no cal first and I am real stoked to hit the fatted calf....it has been on my list for some time. I also know the sommelier at the french laundry, and he said he would show me around, wish I could afford to eat there. He suggested bouchon, which is about 1/5 the cost. then to Tahoe, tahoe city to be exact, reno, denver,Wichita Oklahoma city then little rock.. any culinary attractions ya all know on the way.....and Mikey, man, keep the names a comin....you could be a professional restaurant namer.. look out little rock, here come the Browns
we're so f**king tough
so, sitting here with large and multiple burns on my right wrist (after an excruciating shower), i started thinking about all the times i've hurt myself at work. now, i say hurt cause we eff ourselves up all the time, little cuts and burns and bruises here and there, but there's been a few times i've gotten myself pretty good.
i have cut the tip of my left thumb off twice, and gone 95% of the way through my right thumb. my left thumb seems to get in my way when i'm knifing. i never went to culinary school and i was initally trained by knuckleheads so i never learned to keep my fingers out of the way when i'm chopping. and i've been doing it my way for too long to fix it now (rachel ray cuts onions exactly like i do). anyway. the first time i did it i had just gotten my first knife kit (yeah, i bought the whole kit...i was young!) and like two days later i'm chopping some bacon and fuckin wayno insano distracts me and boom. there was a pile of bacon bits with a part of a thumb in it. my knives were so new and sharp that it (heavy 9in chef) just went right thru and felt more like an electric shock than a cut. went to the er (ps drove myself, one handed, in my stick shift mustang) and they spent two hours just cauterizing it so it would stop bleeding. the next time i did it it was my offset serrated and i just had another cook wrap it with gauze and i gloved up and kept working...it was friday night. he was being a wuss about it too, and my old servers recall a hilarious scene where j-bones was completely grossed out by all my blood and i was laughing and yelling "come on you pussy! just wrap that fucker up! we got tickets!" my right thumb was a slicer incident...it was an old busted ass slicer and unless you held the tomatoes with your hand the blade would just smoosh them and i did a big ol slice of tomato and almost all the way thru the tip of my right thumb. it was barely still attached, kind of flopping around, and i managed to get it kinda back straight and i put a band-aid on, wrapped it with tape, gloved up and kept working. my right thumb has a scar but my left thumb is all misshapen at the end and the nail thick on one side now.
the worst burn i've ever had was on my foot of all places. double stack convection ovens. hotel pan with corned beef in oven bags. i had to temp one of the briskets so i poked a hole in one of the bags and the juices ran out into the pan. the other bag was all puffy and as i was pulling the pan out of the lower oven the bag caught on the rack and tipped the pan and sent a pint of lightning hot corned beef juice right into my fucking shoe. couldn't get my shoe and sock off quick enough. the burns i have tonight took an hour or so to really blister up but that night right as i pulled my sock off i just sat and watched this fucker blister. took about twenty seconds. it looked like a jellybean on top of a golf ball, right on the top of my foot. i juiced it so i could put my shoe back on and close the kitchen, and later that night i juiced it again and wrapped it with gauze. then i went to the warped tour the next day.
so basically cooks are fucking hardcore. we deal with stuff that would send most people home, if not to the hospital, on an everyday basis. if my wife came in to work with burns on her arms like i got right now all her coworkers would go "oh my god! what happened to your arm? are you ok?" but i bet nobody i work with will even notice. we're too badass.
chefs, i bet each and every one of you has a story like that...let's hear em!
i have cut the tip of my left thumb off twice, and gone 95% of the way through my right thumb. my left thumb seems to get in my way when i'm knifing. i never went to culinary school and i was initally trained by knuckleheads so i never learned to keep my fingers out of the way when i'm chopping. and i've been doing it my way for too long to fix it now (rachel ray cuts onions exactly like i do). anyway. the first time i did it i had just gotten my first knife kit (yeah, i bought the whole kit...i was young!) and like two days later i'm chopping some bacon and fuckin wayno insano distracts me and boom. there was a pile of bacon bits with a part of a thumb in it. my knives were so new and sharp that it (heavy 9in chef) just went right thru and felt more like an electric shock than a cut. went to the er (ps drove myself, one handed, in my stick shift mustang) and they spent two hours just cauterizing it so it would stop bleeding. the next time i did it it was my offset serrated and i just had another cook wrap it with gauze and i gloved up and kept working...it was friday night. he was being a wuss about it too, and my old servers recall a hilarious scene where j-bones was completely grossed out by all my blood and i was laughing and yelling "come on you pussy! just wrap that fucker up! we got tickets!" my right thumb was a slicer incident...it was an old busted ass slicer and unless you held the tomatoes with your hand the blade would just smoosh them and i did a big ol slice of tomato and almost all the way thru the tip of my right thumb. it was barely still attached, kind of flopping around, and i managed to get it kinda back straight and i put a band-aid on, wrapped it with tape, gloved up and kept working. my right thumb has a scar but my left thumb is all misshapen at the end and the nail thick on one side now.
the worst burn i've ever had was on my foot of all places. double stack convection ovens. hotel pan with corned beef in oven bags. i had to temp one of the briskets so i poked a hole in one of the bags and the juices ran out into the pan. the other bag was all puffy and as i was pulling the pan out of the lower oven the bag caught on the rack and tipped the pan and sent a pint of lightning hot corned beef juice right into my fucking shoe. couldn't get my shoe and sock off quick enough. the burns i have tonight took an hour or so to really blister up but that night right as i pulled my sock off i just sat and watched this fucker blister. took about twenty seconds. it looked like a jellybean on top of a golf ball, right on the top of my foot. i juiced it so i could put my shoe back on and close the kitchen, and later that night i juiced it again and wrapped it with gauze. then i went to the warped tour the next day.
so basically cooks are fucking hardcore. we deal with stuff that would send most people home, if not to the hospital, on an everyday basis. if my wife came in to work with burns on her arms like i got right now all her coworkers would go "oh my god! what happened to your arm? are you ok?" but i bet nobody i work with will even notice. we're too badass.
chefs, i bet each and every one of you has a story like that...let's hear em!
