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...
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?
sent from my mobile Tweprise
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?
sent from my mobile Tweprise
www.kitchenconvoluted.blogspot.com
