definition of finesse, main kitchen exitThat morning, I strolled into the kitchen wearing my 100% cotton signature Kirkland t-shirt, some old khakis, and a dingy pair of shoes. I was ready to tackle whatever I was told to do. When I entered the kitchen, line cooks were already firing up the stoves and many were busy prepping their stations. Just to give you an idea of how a basic restaurant kitchen runs, here’s a quick breakdown:
After a customer orders their food, the server inputs everything into the system. The system feeds into two separate ticket machines, one on the ‘hot line’ and one at the dessert station. The ‘hot line’ is where all hot appetizers, entrees, and salads are made. The executive chef or chef de cuisine is usually at the end of the line where the orders come in. Moving down the line, you will find the sous chef and one or two additional line cooks, manning either the grills, stovetops, deep fryers, ovens, or sometimes all of the above. If one line cook is handling more than three of the previously mentioned, your staff is definitely ‘in the weeds’. That pretty much means you’re fucked. Orders are backed up, customers are not happy, and chances are you’ll be looking for another job soon. Anyway, the hardware (i.e. grills, stove, etc) is on one side of the hot line.
On the other side are the stations; each line cook’s ‘meez’, short for ‘mis en place’. This is essentially your home for the entire shift you are working. Within your ‘meez’, you have to be able to reach for anything you’re assigned to plate or make within a moment’s notice. Kosher salt, sauces, garnishes, accompaniments; basically everything you can think of has to be within arm’s distance. Cause if you do end up ‘in the weeds’ or even the least bit backed up, the last thing you want to do is look for that sauce you knew you prepped hours before. Chances are its still in the walk-in and you can’t serve cold sauce. You’ll have to run to the walk in, transfer that to a sixth hotel pan, and warm it up. During that time, two or three more orders probably came in and the chef will probably rip you a new one for stepping off the line.
When orders come in, it’s the chef’s responsibility to expedite them. He/she will yell out what needs to be prepped, dunked in a deep fryer, popped into the oven, or thrown onto the grill. Of course, the chef won’t be there to look over your shoulder to make sure you’re doing it right but once you hear, “One fry!”, then you know that you take the fries out of the freezer, put them in the frying basket, dunk them in, and set the timer. Once you see the entrée get plated, which should coincide with your timer going off, you pull the fries out, season them, and plate. Despite the cramped working space and people twisting and turning, bending down, hopping between stations, and leaning over each other, nobody gets in each others’ way. Believe you me, when everything is smooth, the hot line looks like a ballet performance; the epitome of grace and focus.
I thought I had a pretty good idea of how a kitchen ran (thanks to Anthony Bourdain) but seeing it for the first time in person was just short of life-altering. Words really do not do it any justice. I put on a chef’s jacket, an apron, and walked onto the hot line with the sous chef. At first, she had me doing basic prep work; hulling strawberries, washing vegetables, chopping salad ingredients, the basics. To say the least, my first day was a day of learning. I essentially got schooled on every aspect of kitchen work including how to hold a knife properly, the importance of speed and quality in the kitchen, kitchen lingo, how to get out of the way; Cooking in a Restaurant 101. That whole day was an observation and test of my abilities. I got called out by the executive chef numerous times about how things should be done and line cooks probably began wondering why I was so incompetent. Apparently, chopping romaine lettuce and frisee should not take more than five minutes and ‘taking your time’ was unheard of at the back of the house. It was overwhelming but I learned so much. I probably learned more that day than the rest of the year I worked in that kitchen. After trailing other line cooks, helping out where I could, and getting re-educated on how it’s done, the brunch shift finally ended.
I was soaked in sweat and I was dead tired. I had probably run up and down the stairs to the dry room at least twenty times. I had never been so scared in a walk-in looking for ingredients I had never heard of. Oh, you want some arugula? And frisee? I didn’t even know what they looked like. A loaf of pan de mie? Sure, no problem. Just give me five minutes while I ask around. I came out of that walk-in many times with more than what was asked for, just so I covered all my bases. When asked for brioche, I would walk out with six different loaves of bread and offer them to the sous chef. When asked for mesclun, I came out with enough greens to make my own salad. I was an epic FAIL that day. But I walked out of that kitchen, on my feet. After saying thank you to all the line cooks for not murdering me, the chef wanted to talk to me. I prepared myself for rejection.
The chef asked me how my day went. I told him it was an amazing experience and I was hooked. There was so much more that I could see myself learning and the adrenaline rush was incomparable. (In my experience, nothing has given me more of an adrenaline rush that juggling multiple orders, running around the kitchen, scrambling for hot plates, and perfectly timing different foods in the oven, fryer, and freezer to create a beautifully crafted dish) He summarized his thoughts and observations of my performance in the kitchen. Apparently, it’s not safe to run around a kitchen, holding a knife horizontally, through a maze of people holding hot sheet pans and carrying loads of deli containers. He said he’d be willing to work with me. The ball was in my court and his offer was plain and simple.
If you want to learn to cook, you can come in anytime you’d like. My kitchen is open to you and I will teach you as much as I can. But I cannot pay you. This will be an externship of sorts, just like in culinary school, but instead of course credit, you get to learn to cook. Once it looks like you’re getting the hang of things, we can talk about compensation.
My ego took a small hit but an offer like this was something I could not pass up. I told him I’d be back for more.
No comments:
Post a Comment