Thursday, May 27, 2010

Did He Just Say That?

When I worked, for a short time, in the kitchen of a Michelin Starred Chef; not that many things happened that gave me a reason to laugh, let alone smile.
Actually, before we get into that, let's actually start by talking about the word, "worked;" and saying it's a bit of hyperbole, seeing as I didn't see a single red cent, in wages, from the time I was there, for over a year!
Anywho...The man was, for all intents and purposes, a tyrant. He was seldom in a good mood, his "innocent" kitchen teasing had an element of nastiness to it, and he exuded a Nicoise-air of holier than though douchiness at all times. On a regular basis, he would alternate between threatening to remove the cost of say a burned tray of crostini from my paycheck (which was fucking moot!) and making me clock out, then continue working...the most egregious instance, for nearly three hours.
I worked the entremetier station; which is to say I cooked the sides that went along with most of the main courses, as well as picking up hot apps. It did a pretty good job, especially when you consider I was still pretty green.
So, one night, the Manager came into the kitchen to tell our chef that Frank Bruni was in the dining room with four other people. He responded by essentially kicking everyone off the line so that he could cook all the dishes himself. Because, ya’know, that was the kind of trust he had in his staff…
Did I mention that it was my trail night and I was there to simply get a read on the kitchen...? Because it was. Oh, and did I also mention that the chef in question spoke with a, "very teek (bordering on comical) French ag-scent"? Because, he did.
So there I was, on my trail, watching this chef pick up all five dishes by himself; jumping between the pasta station, the grill and the range. It was a kind of poetry in motion...like, slam poetry, but poetry nonetheless.
Then, the wheels came off. Shortly around the time he was realizing he'd bitten off more than he could chew, one of the donkey servers came in and began to pepper him with questions. She was asking about substituting ingredients for a couple dishes, because she had a table apparently allergic to pine nuts, gluten, pollen, air-breathing, and quite possibly, common sense.
He was largely ignoring her, except to occasionally say "no" or “dat will make de deesh taste terr-i-bal!” As he began to plate, and finally asked for help, she returned with more questions; his back was to the kitchen door, a sauté pan in his hand and without turning around he said, “Excuse me, but can you please GET ZEE FUCK OUT OF MY KITCH-EN!” There was a moment of stunned silence before she slinked away, and then he went back to plating.
Looking back on it, I can laugh about it because it was equally ridiculous behavior; she shouldn’t have come into the kitchen peppering the chef with questions and he probably could’ve found a better way to ask her to come back and pester him when he wasn’t plating dinner for, probably, the most powerful food critic in the country.
In short, I thought it was shocking; but looking back on it, kinda funny.

What’s On My Mind This Week?

I used to grab a bite to eat at this Mexican place on 14th Street that’s owned by Chinese people. My buddy, JD calls them “China-Mex,” and I’ve been thinking of actual China-Mex food. I mean, who says I can’t stuff a burrito full of Beef & Broccoli or eat a Shrimp Lo Mein taco, if I want one…?

Tuesday, May 25, 2010

It’s Spelled S-T-E-E-Z-E, Part II


Hey guys, same steeze as before...more kitchen "vehnack," I.e. terminology for you to wrap your heads around...

On-Back: On-Back is usually the second course part of a ticket. Some people say different things, but when I call tickets, I prefer to say, "on-back." For example, "Order-Fire: Two Special App; One Caesar Salad; One Cheese Plate and One Chilled Soup, no Crispy Shallots. On-Back: Two Roast Chicken, One Fish; One Pork; Two Side Rice; One Side Bean and One Side Potato." This is also an example of a non-donkey ticket, because it isn't order-fire, there aren't any weird substitutions and no one at the table has taken it upon themselves to do something strange (read, donkey), like order a Cheese Plate with the Mains or a Side of Potatoes with their starters.

Fire: Fire is the call given when it comes time to start preparing the second courses on a specific ticket. Usually, a waitress will come to the pass and say, "Fire mains on 12, please," although in larger restaurants waitresses will usually input the fire request into the computer and a ticket will come out of the machine.
This isn't always hard-and-fast; however, as sometimes the chef or Expediter will take it upon themselves to fire a ticket. This is usually done if a fair amount of time has gone by and the server has not fired a ticket. It also happens if there are a lot of tickets hanging and none of them are fired. This preemptive firing of a table can ensure servers don't fire tickets piecemeal; i.e. Firing one table in their section and then another a minute later and then another two minutes later.

Fire the Board: There are times when you may have a lot, or just a few, tickets hanging and either the servers fire all of those tickets or again, the chef or Expediter decides to fire those tickets. Calling out to the kitchen that, "the board is fired!" or to, "fire the board," alerts all kitchen personnel that it's time to get live, because all the dormant tickets hanging, now have dishes that need to prepared and sent out. Depending on how many tickets are fired and how many tickets come out of the machine during this time; this time period can also be known as, "a crush."

Dig Out: When you Dig Out, it means that you've had a whole bunch of tickets fired within a short amount of time and you're trying your best to come up on (i.e. compose, plate & send out) all the dishes in a short amount of time. For example, I had to Dig Out on Wednesday night, when I was fired on: 2 Special Desserts; 2 Apple Pies; 1 Mousse; 2 Spinach Salads; 3 Kale Salads; 1 Head Cheese; 1 Side Potato; 1 Special Soup; 1 Special Salad and 1 Market Salad...plus worrying about garnishing and sending out every main course that came past me. Suffice it to say, it's a whole fuckin' lot and even the best of us get behind. And when we get behind, we have to dig out. Long-story-short, you're digging yourself out of the hole you're in.

Hard: If something is working Hard or coming Hard, it means that particular thing is close to being plated. Either, it's a salad about to come out of the bowl, or a chicken about to come out of the hot oven. This call is usually given on a big table as a way to let your line-mates know what's going on, or that they may need to hurry up.

Come On: I will often ask, or be told, “I'm coming on table X.” This means that, that particular table will be coming out soon and I need to have the dishes I'm responsible for, on that ticket, ready to go. Incidentally, this can make for many jokes, as cooks are want to do; such as asking, “Are you coming on those balls for 12?”
“Yeah, coming hard!”
“Oh man, you're fucking gross!”

True Story: A True Story is an answer in the affirmative, so if my chef asks me, “are you done with the blank sauce for the fish, so we can run it?” or, “we’re Eighty-Sixed on the Special, right?” I can answer in the affirmative, by saying, "that's a true story."
Incidentally, this also works for everyday interactions with people; as I have often times found myself answering a question, such as: "you're not really an asshole, you just hold others to the same high standard you hold yourself, right?" The answer to that question...? That's a true story.

What's on My Mind This Week?

Thinking about my end-of-the-night-sandwiches, and how I can explain to you guys what happens when we've got leftovers and my mind runs amok.
Also, a bit curious about the new "restaurant/club" that's opening up in the old Nell's spot (Plumm, for you youngsters), because I kinda feel like restaurants and clubs go together about as well as a bag full of cats!

Tuesday, May 18, 2010

Well, That’s a First…


One of my favourite movies, well a movie I really enjoy; is “The ‘Burbs” with Tom Hanks as a suburban cul-de-sac dweller and Carrie Fisher as his frazzled wife. Ray and his two friends Rumsfield and Art get it in their heads that Ray’s new neighbors have killed the previous occupants of their house and possibly the old man down the street…who’s dog has a penchant for pooping on Rumsfield’s lawn. Art even goes so far as to say, “Ray, do you want them to take your family, kidnap them, tear their livers out and make some kind of satanic pate?!?!?
One scene that always gets me…every time, I wait for it comes towards the middle. Hanks' character, Ray, has just seen one of his suspicious neighbors drive his car down to the sidewalk from the garage, heft a large bag into the trash can and then violently pummel it with a hoe. Ray; equally unaffected and nonplussed; responds by saying, “I've never seen that before. I've never seen anybody drive their garbage down to the street and then bang the hell out of it with a stick. I’ve, I've never seen that.”
Well, the other night I had one of those moments. I was having dinner with my mom and her husband for Mother's Day; yeah, that's right, I'm a good son.
Everything was pretty much your standard fare, although our "bottled" water arrived at our table in opened, in one of those long-necked, Grolsh-style bottles that could've easily have been filled from the tap; and after our waiter brought the bottle of Haut Medoc I’d selected for me to inspect, he disappeared, only to return again with the open bottle. Why he couldn't open it table-side, I have no idea. I'm not accusing them of any funny business (like decanting my nice bottle of wine and replacing it with some donkey bottle of Trader Joe’s Finest), but I did find it a bit odd.
After dinner though, was the real kicker. My mom decided to take her Soft Shell Crab dish home and her husband took the rest of his Bolognese. Several minutes went by and their leftovers did not make a return appearance at the table. As I was getting ready to flag down our scared, college-aged, waiter; he returned and placed two coat check tokens on the table.
“You can use these to collect your food when you leave. Thanks again for dining with us,” he said.
I was slightly confused for a moment. You mean, we turn in these coat check tickets and then we get our food...? Yeah, I've, I've never seen that before. I've never seen a restaurant give me a coat check ticket so I can pick up my leftovers, instead of just bringing them to the table, I’ve never seen that before.

What’s On My Mind This Week:

Cooking dinner for some friends this week, we haven’t seen each other in a while and I’m planning to blow the doors off. This is what I’m thinking of so far: Chilled Pea & Mint Soup; Baby Octopus with Chorizo, Chicories & White Beans; an as yet to be determined Third Course; and a Mixed Berry Trifle with Lemon Verbena Sweet Cream.

Tuesday, May 11, 2010

It’s Spelled S-T-E-E-Z-E, Part I


As promised, I'm getting at you with a whole host of kitchen terminology and shorthand that will hopefully let you better understand me when I fire off my run-on sentenced, gerund-heavy rants.
I'm going to do my best, and because there are a great many things going on in my head at any given time I’m sure I’m forgetting some; which is why this post is merely part one…

Steeze: Your steeze can be anything. I think, originally derived from "steeze en place," it was like a cooks mise en place; the necessary food, equipment and set-up that was essential to making it through service as easily as possible. But again, your steeze can apply to anything: your state of mind, your flow, the place you're hanging out at, or the drink in your hand. “You're fucking up my steeze right now!” “We should leave, this steeze is seriously dead.” “This steeze is almost done, I gotta get live on another one.”

Get Live: To get live is to start a project, however; big or small. I have been known to get live on “some Mussel Death,” get live on a beer or get live on writing my prep list.

Prep List: Before you leave the restaurant for the night, and before you've had too many shift drinks to care, you write your prep list. Basically, it helps the morning/prep guy know what he needs to do when he gets to work, so he doesn’t have to spend his first 10 or 15 minutes rooting around your low-boy and the walk-in, trying to figure out what needs to be prepared for the day. Because, let’s face it, that would be a dick move. Sometimes, it’s a judgment call. Sometimes I’ll leave and say to myself, on a Wednesday night, “well, we’ve still got three quarts of Wild Rice left, that’ll probably get us through to Friday,” but more often than not, it’ll go on my prep list because I’d rather be safe than sorry. And no one wants to be making something during service because they didn’t plan ahead.

Dupes / Tickets: Back in the day, before the advent of machines, waitresses had pads they would take down orders on. These pads had a secondary, and sometimes tertiary, layer; so the waitress could keep one copy and the other (the “dupe”) could be passed to the kitchen. The tickets are usually broken up course, and are read off by someone in the kitchen; usually the Head Chef or Expediter. Courses help the kitchen break things up and ease the flow, but sometimes servers and diners work in concert and send Order-Fire tickets.

Order-Fire: Order-Fire tickets are the bane of some cooks, and I know some cooks who prefer to make dishes immediately and get them out. Basically, when a ticket comes out there is usually a first course and a second course. Sometimes, however; everything comes out together and this can be a problem when you’ve already got several tickets hanging and a party of five sits down and orders eight or nine dishes…that’s the kind of thing that can fuck up your steeze.

The Pass: The pass is where plates of food from the kitchen are brought, or in some cases literally passed, before they are wiped clean of fingerprint marks or stray dribbles of sauce and the finishing touches: a sprinkling of chives, a drizzle of lemon oil, some Micro Bulls Blood, a tiny mound of croutons, what-have-you, are added before the plates are given to servers or food-runners and end up in front of customers. As some have said, it is the last line of defense; a final checkpoint to make sure the food coming out is servable.

Donkey: A donkey is essentially a stupid person, or someone that engages in stupid or lazy behavior; although, a smart person can be called a donkey if their actions are those of a donkey. But donkey can also refer to: a ticket, a table or even a dish of food. For example, a ticket can be donkey if the items ordered have seemingly no rhyme or reason to how they were ordered; i.e. “Order-Fire: Caesar Salad, Mixed Nuts, Broccoli Soup, Roast Chicken & Side Wild Rice; On-Back: Ham Sandwich, Roast Chicken, Caesar Salad, Broccoli Soup & Fish Special.” This ticket is donkey because at first glance, it would appear that four people have sat down for a meal and one of those people has ordered a Roast Chicken (usually a main course) as an appetizer, and quite possibly has also decided to order the Caesar Salad as their main course.” Plainly speaking, it means stupid. Just last night (read 2:30 this morning), after I’d gotten home from work, and was sitting on the couch eating a sandwich and drinking a glass of wine while I watched the remake of “The Last House on the Left.” At some point, I said to myself, “okay, I’m done with this donkey movie,” turned off the TV and got in bed.


What’s On My Mind This Week?
I’ve started reading Stacy Perman’s book on In-N-Out Burger, which is really stupid of me; because I’m 2700 miles away from deliciousness!

Sunday, May 2, 2010

Famous Last Words


So I made a lair out of myself when I told you guys I was going to be more proactive about posting and keeping you appraised as to "what the fuck is goin's on?" So what the fuck is goin's on? I've started working the pass in addition to working my station; something I do four nights a week. In essence, my chef has taken it upon himself to cook one dish; one special; a night, and can no longer stand at the pass to finish or wipe down plates. Our other line cook is busy digging themselves out of the order-fire hell our servers have put them in, so that leaves me.
This means that when I used to just make dishes (at our ridiculously busy restaurant) and give them to our chef to finish; I now makes dishes (at our ridiculously busy restaurant), then bring them to the pass, then wipe them down and finish them, then call for hands so the servers can take them to the proper tables. Oh, and I also busy myself with marking and keeping track of all of our tickets (first course fired, first course out, second course fired, &c.). In all honesty, it's really not that difficult: a ticket comes out of the machine, it gets passed to me, I read it off, mark it with the table number, utilize my wonderfully photographic memory to keep track of everything on the ticket and then put it in its proper place on the board.
(I realize, by the way, that most of what I'm talking about: marking tickets, the pass, fired tickets, the whole steez, probably doesn’t make a lot of sense; and that's why I'm going to explain it all in a "Kitchen Venack" post soon.)
So as I said, it doesn't seem like much, but when the restaurant is slammed and there are ten tickets hanging, with either first or second courses being prepared and I'm making some of those first or second courses; it gets a little tough to take the extra few seconds to wipe down or finish a plate or wait for a server to come collect the plates and tell them where to go, or fire the main courses on a certain table...hell, for that matter, to remember how long ago the first courses went out and either fire the second courses myself or seek out the server to see if those second courses can be fired.
I'm not complaining, or trying to make it seem like I'm a big deal because I'm handling the responsibility that I am; I'm just saying that's why you haven't heard from me. But I'm hoping that in the future, you'll be hearing a lot more out of me; hell, I still haven't told you about my crazy sandwiches or my sick, twisted love affair with Durian.

What's on My Mind This Week?:
I'm still pissed about the teammates thing on the first episode of Season 2 of Top Chef Masters. In my humble opinion, Jimmy Bradley and Govind Armstrong would have fared much better separately than they did together. That, and obviously Sam Sifton is still doling stars out like a subway preacher giving unwanted advice. Oh, and I think I'd like to make Steak & Kidney Pie...even though no one I know would ever entertain eating it.