Thomas McNamee’s brilliant “Alice Waters and Chez Panisse”. For those of you who don’t know Alice Waters is a true marvel. Widely considered the mother of California Cuisine and one of the greatest Chefs to every live. I strongly recommend this book for anyone who loves food. I plan to write more about Alice and Chez Panisse on my next day off because her approach to food and her philosophy are not far from my own.
I also just picked up MFK Fisher’s “How to Cook a Wolf.” Fisher is one of the best food writers to ever live and only three pages in I can understand why she is regarded that way. She captured my mind with the following line; “Now, when the hideous necessity of the war machine takes steel and cotton and humanity, our own private personal secret mechanism must be stronger, for selfish comfort as well as for the good of the ideals we believe we believe in.” I look forward to writing more on my day off with regard to MFK Fisher and her dalliances in GREATNESS.
Finally, due to be “shut down” or “shot down” early as the case were I also just bought Anthony Bourdain’s “The Nasty Bits.”
I will regal you all with more on these and so many other topics as soon as my time allows. Monday I think but who knows in this topsy turvy world of becoming a great cook.
I will leave you with another thought from Fisher; “It seems plain to us that many things are wrong in the present ones that can be, must be, changed. Our texture of belief has great holes in it. Our pattern lacks pieces.”
Dream Big, inspired and hold fast to what you know is true within your own self. For only you know the power of that truth and what it represents not just to you but also to the world at large.
A la prochaine
SDM
Thursday, July 24, 2008
Too Smoked Salmon, Shitty Buzz and It Ain’t Pretty (file under what is a cooks hellish day for a million please Alex)
This morning I got up early to dot the I’s and cross the t’s on the research I was doing for Executive Chef. Moreover I was only too eager to help the love of my life get the car to the mechanic so that we could get Delia (that is the cars name) running at optimal levels.
I have been reading Thomas McNamee’s brilliant “Alice Waters and Chez Panisse” religiously since buying it when I have had time (but more on this next post) and found myself in awe on the streetcar. I was in great spirits and feeling generally as I do every morning. Grateful to be alive. To know and cherish love. To have a career path that provides meaning, joy and hope to my life. As such I walked into work with a smile on my face and readied to go about my day. But not before quickly finishing the chapter I was reading and having a coffee and a cigarette.
As I walked back in Head Chef was there and was ready to start assigning jobs for the day. I noticed up on the board that he asked me to deal with the jus and as such started dealing with it before being told directly. As I started working on straining the demi Head Chef asked D, L and I who did the tea smoked pacific salmon the night before to which I quickly answered that I did. Without missing a beat he looked back at the white board and said; “Back to the remi.”
Of course I had answered with all the exuberance of a newbie. Thinking of course that perhaps I had done something right. I could not have been further from right if I had gone right, made another right and found myself on right street. I WAS WRONG and soon I was going to find out HOW wrong.
As I got the jus on and started to prep the things that I saw on my list Head Chef casually threw a vac packed bag with the two pieces of Salmon that I had smoked in it. Immediately I grabbed a knife and opened it knowing that obviously there was something horribly wrong with it. He asked as I sucked back a bite to which I responded that it was over smoked. He looked in that way that only people expecting more can, hanging on waiting for more and then helping to elicit the response that he wanted. It was over peppered, over cooked and over smoked AND COMPLETELY UNPALATABLE. I concurred sheepishly. Having never been shown how to properly make the dish I asked what I could do that would be better to do in the future. He looked right at me and said; “Well you won’t be cooking Salmon again.” It took everything I had not to cry. Not only did I feel his disappointment but my own and the sting really sucked.
I brooded. And when I say brooded I don’t think that I spoke very much to anyone all day. I was stung. My pride was hurt. But what’s more I felt as if I had not only let him down but myself. Did I mention that it stung… A LOT!
As I went about my duties as assigned all I could think about is what I could have done differently. Asked how to properly do it. Asked for some kind of direction. Anything that I could have done differently I considered as I peeled 50 pounds of potatoes for a dauphinoise. Did I mention it stung?
Later in the day there was an issue with the spring rolls that had been cooked. This has been an ongoing issue as they have been less than stellar quality. Of course, due to who I am and my experience I asked if they were being cooked at 400 f in the fryer. When I went over to ask the person testing what temperature the fryer was at I noticed that it was at 350 f. I then proceeded to turn it up not knowing that Head Chef himself had set the temperature.
I followed one of my colleagues to his station and was having a conversation when Head Chef came over and proceeded to lash me down saying; “You are not a Chef, don’t touch the temperature when you know that I have set it. Now get out of here before…”
Pride swallowed. Ego non existent I walked away with my tail between my legs like an abused puppy. Unintentionally I had incurred the wrath of Chef. I felt awful, as if I had just been kicked in the nuts and then thrown from a moving car.
I finished up what I was doing and asked if there was anything else. Head Chef looked at me and said not much. So I packed up my things and left. Which though feeling like a bundle of smoking turd was all right because I got to catch you my readers up.
That said I am reminded of a great quote from Alfred Adler; “What do you first do when you learn to swim? You make mistakes, do you not? And what happens? You make other mistakes, and when you have made all the mistakes you possibly can without drowning - and some of them many times over - what do you find? That you can swim? Well - life is just the same as learning to swim! Do not be afraid of making mistakes, for there is no other way of learning how to live!”
Breaststroke here I come.
Are you dreaming big and inspired?
A la prochaine
SDM
I have been reading Thomas McNamee’s brilliant “Alice Waters and Chez Panisse” religiously since buying it when I have had time (but more on this next post) and found myself in awe on the streetcar. I was in great spirits and feeling generally as I do every morning. Grateful to be alive. To know and cherish love. To have a career path that provides meaning, joy and hope to my life. As such I walked into work with a smile on my face and readied to go about my day. But not before quickly finishing the chapter I was reading and having a coffee and a cigarette.
As I walked back in Head Chef was there and was ready to start assigning jobs for the day. I noticed up on the board that he asked me to deal with the jus and as such started dealing with it before being told directly. As I started working on straining the demi Head Chef asked D, L and I who did the tea smoked pacific salmon the night before to which I quickly answered that I did. Without missing a beat he looked back at the white board and said; “Back to the remi.”
Of course I had answered with all the exuberance of a newbie. Thinking of course that perhaps I had done something right. I could not have been further from right if I had gone right, made another right and found myself on right street. I WAS WRONG and soon I was going to find out HOW wrong.
As I got the jus on and started to prep the things that I saw on my list Head Chef casually threw a vac packed bag with the two pieces of Salmon that I had smoked in it. Immediately I grabbed a knife and opened it knowing that obviously there was something horribly wrong with it. He asked as I sucked back a bite to which I responded that it was over smoked. He looked in that way that only people expecting more can, hanging on waiting for more and then helping to elicit the response that he wanted. It was over peppered, over cooked and over smoked AND COMPLETELY UNPALATABLE. I concurred sheepishly. Having never been shown how to properly make the dish I asked what I could do that would be better to do in the future. He looked right at me and said; “Well you won’t be cooking Salmon again.” It took everything I had not to cry. Not only did I feel his disappointment but my own and the sting really sucked.
I brooded. And when I say brooded I don’t think that I spoke very much to anyone all day. I was stung. My pride was hurt. But what’s more I felt as if I had not only let him down but myself. Did I mention that it stung… A LOT!
As I went about my duties as assigned all I could think about is what I could have done differently. Asked how to properly do it. Asked for some kind of direction. Anything that I could have done differently I considered as I peeled 50 pounds of potatoes for a dauphinoise. Did I mention it stung?
Later in the day there was an issue with the spring rolls that had been cooked. This has been an ongoing issue as they have been less than stellar quality. Of course, due to who I am and my experience I asked if they were being cooked at 400 f in the fryer. When I went over to ask the person testing what temperature the fryer was at I noticed that it was at 350 f. I then proceeded to turn it up not knowing that Head Chef himself had set the temperature.
I followed one of my colleagues to his station and was having a conversation when Head Chef came over and proceeded to lash me down saying; “You are not a Chef, don’t touch the temperature when you know that I have set it. Now get out of here before…”
Pride swallowed. Ego non existent I walked away with my tail between my legs like an abused puppy. Unintentionally I had incurred the wrath of Chef. I felt awful, as if I had just been kicked in the nuts and then thrown from a moving car.
I finished up what I was doing and asked if there was anything else. Head Chef looked at me and said not much. So I packed up my things and left. Which though feeling like a bundle of smoking turd was all right because I got to catch you my readers up.
That said I am reminded of a great quote from Alfred Adler; “What do you first do when you learn to swim? You make mistakes, do you not? And what happens? You make other mistakes, and when you have made all the mistakes you possibly can without drowning - and some of them many times over - what do you find? That you can swim? Well - life is just the same as learning to swim! Do not be afraid of making mistakes, for there is no other way of learning how to live!”
Breaststroke here I come.
Are you dreaming big and inspired?
A la prochaine
SDM
The long road (file under… the LONG road)
Well my loyal readers here we are. At the crossroads of another week. I must apologize for not having posted earlier in the week but I spent most of my off time doing some research for the restaurant and Executive Chef. But without delay here is last weekends wrap up…
Wet with a side of pissy. Moderately dry with a high chance of precipitation. Did I mention wet? At any rate I prepared for a massive slaughtering this past weekend. I was ready to walk the gangplank and the gauntlet all rolled into one. However the rain seemed to have a different plan for me and as you can tell I am more than thrilled that was the case.
Don’t get me wrong. When it wasn’t raining I was exceptionally busy. I did break my record on Saturday in terms of meals served and felt as if I didn’t have time to myself at all. Which of course is not true. I did find time to have a cigarette or two.
The funniest thing that happened on Saturday involved me going out of my way to b e kind to all our patrons. It was coming down like a torrential downpour and the tent that the bar is covered by was quickly lagging with the weight of the water. Naturally, being helpful old me I grabbed a pole and proceeded to drain the sagging tents. Well, when I came to the other end from where I work there was a large crowd that I asked to push back. Unbeknownst to me there was a couple which was hidden by the extended Stella Artois umbrella, a plant and a heater. I proceeded to push a little bit of the water and it came down hard and as I heard a yelp I immediately knew that I had gotten someone wet. Immediately I apologized and was greeted by; “What kind of an idiot are you?” Keeping my best face I apologized and explained that she and her husband (who was now shrinking absolutely aghast at his significant others’ reaction) were hidden from my view. She got even louder now to the point that the hundred or so patrons that were under the tent felt me boiling over. “No really, what kind of idiot are you?” I walked away from the woman and continued my duties watching as her husband had shrunk to half the size of a Smurf! The crowd was ready for action… Let’s get READY TO RUUUUMMMMBBBLLLLLLLLE! She was getting viscerally nasty now and so in my nicest voice but loud enough so others could hear I said; “Listen Mam, I apologized for my unforeseeable transgression and have been greeted by your vitriol. I’m not sure you realize how obtuse you are being…” One of the patrons under the tent spoke loudly to the woman letting her know that she should let it go as everyone saw what I was doing and nobody saw either her or her husband. It was an honest mistake.
I went to the manager and bar manager and asked if there was an extra shirt so that I could minimize the damage from this woman. I obtained one and explained the full story to the manager, the bar manager and Head Chef. I made quite sure that they were clear on the fact I had said “OBTUSE” and not “OBESE” as you could tell from her reaction she heard “obese” though I am quite certain that her husband heard obtuse and quickly carted her away.
Sunday was great. I had come in early to help L get brunch set up before starting to prep for my day on the grill. I had actually set everything up for brunch and was working the omelette station when Head Chef pulled me off the station and asked me to go the sister restaurant. I was quite certain the plug was being pulled on the rest of the day. Sure enough. The Director of Operations was there and explained that we would be tearing down. Keep in mind that it was raining hippos and rhinoceros and seemed to be getting worse.
In my chef whites I went outside and started tearing down tents with a couple of other people. We tore down about thirty percent of the main area when we got a call to hold. I knew what this meant. Not only was I soaked (despite the beautiful Faster Linen Service bag which is all the rage in Paris) but now to add insult to injury we would have to reset the things that we had just taken down. For me I also knew this meant that I was going to have to open up my bbq.
So after resetting everything, sure enough, I had less than half an hour to get my station set and start serving. Bear in mind that this usually takes hours.
Naturally it rained most of the day. I did make some sales and was generally in good spirits. At one point I said to Head Chef that we had made enough to justify me being out there to which he responded; “Don’t say that, there is nothing that could justify this today.” Point taken I laughed and nodded my head; “Oui Chef!”
The best part of my day was that I had the best meal of the year and I plan to regal you with the details here.
Why is it that rain makes the days seem that much longer. Sure, it is true that twelve hours is still twelve hours, but for some reason being soaked like a wet rat makes twelve hours feel like twelve years. At any rate, I finished cleaning my station and went over to the main square to have a beer or two. C is working with me now at one of our sister restaurants and the Chefs and I get along famously there. I asked if it would be okay for me to have dinner there that night and they said it would be no problem at all.
After a couple of beers I came over to the sister restaurant and planted myself at the bar. I started with six succulent oysters that reminded me of the ocean more than I had remembered in my lifetime. In their sacrifice (though not chosen) I felt myself lifted to a higher level. Brought from my feeling of a wet rat to one of utter decadence and beauty. As I sucked back on the tender flesh I found myself day dreaming of the ocean from which they were plucked and hoped that I would be back there some day soon. I felt guilty for their suffering but rejuvenated for their great gift to my soul.
The kitchen asked me what I wanted for dinner to which (if you ever have the chance you should to) I responded dealers’ choice. I asked the bar for a fine glass of red wine and was rewarded by a complex California Shiraz that took the bite out of my bones and warmed not only my body but also the deepest core of my soul. Abuzz with the joy those first sips brought me I anticipated my dinner. And in it came.
A simple plate of meat and potatoes with the most delicate presentation and flavour. Each bit rewarded me by a virtual explosion of absolute delight. The meat was succulent and cooked to a perfect rare. Each bit giving way to a deeper understanding of how good food can be when prepared with attention and love. The potatoes were so superbly cooked that I found myself interlacing each bite of meat with a slice of potato trying to capture as much of the royal worthy demi as I could. This is the best description that I can give to you my readers and maybe just MAYBE one day you will be lucky enough to have me prepare a meal this good for you. I lingered over each and every bite of that meal and if I hadn’t have been in a restaurant I would have licked the plate. To put it in context it was SO good I had to go and hug the people responsible for it and they were grateful for my joy and appreciation.
Melody Beattie once said; “Gratitude unlocks the fullness of life. It turns what we have into enough, and more. It turns denial into acceptance, chaos to order, and confusion to clarity. It can turn a meal into a feast, a house into a home, a stranger into a friend. Gratitude makes sense of our past, brings peace for today, and creates a vision for tomorrow.”
Are you dreaming big and inspired?
A la prochaine
SDM
Wet with a side of pissy. Moderately dry with a high chance of precipitation. Did I mention wet? At any rate I prepared for a massive slaughtering this past weekend. I was ready to walk the gangplank and the gauntlet all rolled into one. However the rain seemed to have a different plan for me and as you can tell I am more than thrilled that was the case.
Don’t get me wrong. When it wasn’t raining I was exceptionally busy. I did break my record on Saturday in terms of meals served and felt as if I didn’t have time to myself at all. Which of course is not true. I did find time to have a cigarette or two.
The funniest thing that happened on Saturday involved me going out of my way to b e kind to all our patrons. It was coming down like a torrential downpour and the tent that the bar is covered by was quickly lagging with the weight of the water. Naturally, being helpful old me I grabbed a pole and proceeded to drain the sagging tents. Well, when I came to the other end from where I work there was a large crowd that I asked to push back. Unbeknownst to me there was a couple which was hidden by the extended Stella Artois umbrella, a plant and a heater. I proceeded to push a little bit of the water and it came down hard and as I heard a yelp I immediately knew that I had gotten someone wet. Immediately I apologized and was greeted by; “What kind of an idiot are you?” Keeping my best face I apologized and explained that she and her husband (who was now shrinking absolutely aghast at his significant others’ reaction) were hidden from my view. She got even louder now to the point that the hundred or so patrons that were under the tent felt me boiling over. “No really, what kind of idiot are you?” I walked away from the woman and continued my duties watching as her husband had shrunk to half the size of a Smurf! The crowd was ready for action… Let’s get READY TO RUUUUMMMMBBBLLLLLLLLE! She was getting viscerally nasty now and so in my nicest voice but loud enough so others could hear I said; “Listen Mam, I apologized for my unforeseeable transgression and have been greeted by your vitriol. I’m not sure you realize how obtuse you are being…” One of the patrons under the tent spoke loudly to the woman letting her know that she should let it go as everyone saw what I was doing and nobody saw either her or her husband. It was an honest mistake.
I went to the manager and bar manager and asked if there was an extra shirt so that I could minimize the damage from this woman. I obtained one and explained the full story to the manager, the bar manager and Head Chef. I made quite sure that they were clear on the fact I had said “OBTUSE” and not “OBESE” as you could tell from her reaction she heard “obese” though I am quite certain that her husband heard obtuse and quickly carted her away.
Sunday was great. I had come in early to help L get brunch set up before starting to prep for my day on the grill. I had actually set everything up for brunch and was working the omelette station when Head Chef pulled me off the station and asked me to go the sister restaurant. I was quite certain the plug was being pulled on the rest of the day. Sure enough. The Director of Operations was there and explained that we would be tearing down. Keep in mind that it was raining hippos and rhinoceros and seemed to be getting worse.
In my chef whites I went outside and started tearing down tents with a couple of other people. We tore down about thirty percent of the main area when we got a call to hold. I knew what this meant. Not only was I soaked (despite the beautiful Faster Linen Service bag which is all the rage in Paris) but now to add insult to injury we would have to reset the things that we had just taken down. For me I also knew this meant that I was going to have to open up my bbq.
So after resetting everything, sure enough, I had less than half an hour to get my station set and start serving. Bear in mind that this usually takes hours.
Naturally it rained most of the day. I did make some sales and was generally in good spirits. At one point I said to Head Chef that we had made enough to justify me being out there to which he responded; “Don’t say that, there is nothing that could justify this today.” Point taken I laughed and nodded my head; “Oui Chef!”
The best part of my day was that I had the best meal of the year and I plan to regal you with the details here.
Why is it that rain makes the days seem that much longer. Sure, it is true that twelve hours is still twelve hours, but for some reason being soaked like a wet rat makes twelve hours feel like twelve years. At any rate, I finished cleaning my station and went over to the main square to have a beer or two. C is working with me now at one of our sister restaurants and the Chefs and I get along famously there. I asked if it would be okay for me to have dinner there that night and they said it would be no problem at all.
After a couple of beers I came over to the sister restaurant and planted myself at the bar. I started with six succulent oysters that reminded me of the ocean more than I had remembered in my lifetime. In their sacrifice (though not chosen) I felt myself lifted to a higher level. Brought from my feeling of a wet rat to one of utter decadence and beauty. As I sucked back on the tender flesh I found myself day dreaming of the ocean from which they were plucked and hoped that I would be back there some day soon. I felt guilty for their suffering but rejuvenated for their great gift to my soul.
The kitchen asked me what I wanted for dinner to which (if you ever have the chance you should to) I responded dealers’ choice. I asked the bar for a fine glass of red wine and was rewarded by a complex California Shiraz that took the bite out of my bones and warmed not only my body but also the deepest core of my soul. Abuzz with the joy those first sips brought me I anticipated my dinner. And in it came.
A simple plate of meat and potatoes with the most delicate presentation and flavour. Each bit rewarded me by a virtual explosion of absolute delight. The meat was succulent and cooked to a perfect rare. Each bit giving way to a deeper understanding of how good food can be when prepared with attention and love. The potatoes were so superbly cooked that I found myself interlacing each bite of meat with a slice of potato trying to capture as much of the royal worthy demi as I could. This is the best description that I can give to you my readers and maybe just MAYBE one day you will be lucky enough to have me prepare a meal this good for you. I lingered over each and every bite of that meal and if I hadn’t have been in a restaurant I would have licked the plate. To put it in context it was SO good I had to go and hug the people responsible for it and they were grateful for my joy and appreciation.
Melody Beattie once said; “Gratitude unlocks the fullness of life. It turns what we have into enough, and more. It turns denial into acceptance, chaos to order, and confusion to clarity. It can turn a meal into a feast, a house into a home, a stranger into a friend. Gratitude makes sense of our past, brings peace for today, and creates a vision for tomorrow.”
Are you dreaming big and inspired?
A la prochaine
SDM
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