Tag: waitstaff

Cooking Tips from a Writer- Caveat Emptor

~ Leslie Lanagan ~ Leave a comment

I asked Carol to search reddit and find the top 10 questions people have about becoming a cook for a chef. Before we even get started, let’s make one thing very clear. Chef (male) and Cheffe (female) mean the same thing- boss. Chefs are your best friend and your worst nightmare on the same fucking day. This is because they’re the liaison between you, the staff, and the owners…. who may or may not know anything about running a restaurant. I told Mel I was feeling Bourdain-ish today. We’ll see what comes out. I don’t think I’m more direct than he is, but I don’t think I’m less………..

  • “Is being a chef worth it?”
    • In all things, it depends. Are you the kind of person who likes to cook, or are you the type of person who likes to manage cooks? It is a very stressful job, because sometimes you’re on the brigade with the rest of us, sweating your ass off….. and sometimes you’re being raked over the coals by the owners, who may or may not have valid points because it depends on how much experience they have. Not every cook is built to be a chef, because not every cook is built to be an executive. Most know that early by watching chefs sweat what job they want very early. As a general rule, yes. But only if you really, really, really love it. You dream about it. You can’t think about anything else but cooking and how the restaurant is doing without you. Otherwise, there will be no joy in your life. The job itself really sucks in terms of how you run your body ragged. But the whole experience is about walking out at the end of the night with a win and feel good tired. It’s a different sense of accomplishment than office workers have at the end of the day.
  • “Does being a chef pay well?”
    • Again, it depends. Have you gone to culinary school? How much experience do you have since then? Have you had any successes in other restaurants? Where have you trained after culinary school? For instance, if you want a job as a chef at a Mexican restaurant, have you ever actually been there? It also matters what kind of job you have. Are you the chef at a small place or a large one? At an institution like Old Ebbett Grill and take a chance on changing *anything?* Being a chef pays well, but it involves a lot of time, dedication, and effort on your part to rise above working in restaurants who won’t pay you what you’re worth if you’re that talented. You also really have to want it. Really. You have to want a life where you work when everyone else plays, and you may never get a holiday with your family ever again. It just depends on the restaurant, and also how quickly you go from being a chef de cuisine into the ranks of executive chef, where you’re not in the kitchen all the time. You’re planning menus, doing inventory, tracking food cost and labor, all of it. That’s why you have to balance why it’s worth becoming a chef, which leads directly into the next question.
  • “Is it fun being a chef?”
    • “Is it fun?” Sometimes. Sometimes it’s a drag because you’re caught up in paperwork. But when you’re actually in the kitchen and vibing with your team, there’s nothing like it. Reminds you of the old days, when you were the one constantly in the shit. You absolutely get high on life and you think you need caffeine to make it through. You don’t. Your body makes adrenaline like water under that much pressure. Our addiction to caffeine is at keeping up that breakneck pace, not that it’s impossible with enough time and sleep to let your muscles heal from all the ways you’re currently abusing them. Now, let’s talk about working in a kitchen when you’re not a chef. It is the biggest fucking ride of your life and you will never forget it. You’ll never live a life like it, and even if you leave relatively quickly, you’ll remember the kitchen fondly because you were being taught how to do something well that serves you every day of your life. We get to the kitchen early to prepare the mise, the containers and backups of prepared food like you see at a fast casual restaurant. Even fine dining has all their stations laid out like that, because “gotta move fast, gotta perform miracles.”
  • “Do I need special education to be a chef?”
    • Yes, and here’s how I think an education would best serve you. Get a job in a restaurant and see if you can hack it for a year without missing a day. See how many times you can impress your chef so that when they look at your food, they don’t find something you did wrong. If, at the end of that year, you still feel like you want to be the ringmaster, then go to culinary school. Learning on the job first is half the battle, because there are so many kids with no restaurant experience that go to culinary school They get in debt, and then they graduate with a huge flaw in their plans…………… they don’t actually like working in a restaurant.
  • “What can I do now to become a chef in the future?”
    • Watch every instructional video you possibly can on knife skills- not only the cut, but how to sharpen a knife as well. Because there are cheap chef’s knives that you can try out before you commit to a Japanese thousand fold, take the time to find your knife. It needs to fit perfectly in your hand, and the YouTube videos will tell you the difference between European and Asian cutting techniques. I prefer a handle that’s molded to me using French style, a basic octagonal handle when I’m using Japanese-style (more efficient in some ways. Depends on what I’m doing). However, I mean a Japanese chef’s knife with an octagonal handle. I would want a French-style handle on a santoku knife as well. The main thing is that the longer you use it, the more it feels like an extension of your hand. You start with knife skills because that’s the first thing Chef/the kitchen manager will notice. Can you handle yourself on prep? “I want this box of onions julienned.” You have half an hour. They don’t have to say it. That’s literally all the time you have left before service. Anything you don’t finish may or may not get done during the shift depending on how busy the restaurant is, but I’ll be back at it as soon as things calm down. I cannot leave without my prep list done at the end of the night, and doing pars for what I need to prep the next day. If I forget, I will go back to the restaurant, even if the next day is my day off.
  • “How do I improve my knife skills for cooking?”
    • People assume that dull knives are better because obviously, they’re not as sharp. However, it’s counterintuitive as a dull knife will slip, making it more likely than less that you’ll have an accident. I do not recommend electric sharpeners at all. Either learn how to use the stones or take it to someone if you value your knife. Even a good electric sharpener comes with no guarantee it won’t eat a chef’s knife for breakfast.
    • Again, instructional videos on YouTube so that you can hold your hands just like they do. So that you can see the cuts up close. Joshua Weissman is my favorite YouTube chef, but I don’t know if he has a video on basic knife skills. I can’t imagine that he doesn’t. If he doesn’t, Anthony Bourdain does. I can’t watch it anymore unless I’m really in the mood for it. It’s hard to see him be happy on camera because it just makes me miss the light that he was.
    • Expensive does not mean better when it comes to a knife. The care and maintenance on a Japanese thousand fold is not the same. The reason those knives exist is that they are heirlooms, the kind of present you get when you become a chef. They’re not just knives, they’re the knives you hope your great grandchildren use with pleasure. Just like with wine, buy what you like.
  • “What’s the best way to learn about different cuisines?”
    • You, and I can’t stress this enough, go there. And you won’t always learn the most from having a stage in a foreign restaurant. It may come from working locally and meeting people’s grandmothers. Restaurants cannot hold a candle to grandmothers. If you are in the US, you are blessed beyond all measure. Most of our cooking is built on ancestors from somewhere else. Therefore, you have access to a lot of culinary education just because a friend of a friend has a Georgian or Brazilian or South African grandmother. Miracles happen every day, you just have to know where to find them. Research is shit when it comes to food because you can’t Google it. You have to go there and taste the way the dish is made in the context in which it is generally prepared. I am not talking about the general public. I’m talking about chefs who want to specialize, like if I wanted to become a Mexican chef rather than an American chef, I’d have to live in Mexico a long time before I was ready to commit to working professionally. I need to prove to abuelita that I have my shit together.
  • “How do I handle the pressure in a busy kitchen?”
    • By having a two second out of body experience while you synthesize the information coming back at you. If you say “heard,” the next words will be “call back,” and if you didn’t slow down enough to hear, you will not be able to tell the chef what they just told you. Congratulations, you’re an idiot. The biggest hurdle to overcome is all the negativity that comes at you, because you have to shake things off immediately and move on. If you need to cry in the walk-in, it better be quick. We’ve all had those days when it’s all coming at us at once. But there’s more than just crying in the walk-in because you’re frustrated. Working long hours on grill when it’s open flame makes sitting in the freezer for a few minutes every couple of hours invaluable. The hardest break to take is having to go to the bathroom. The easiest break to take is having a smoke. No one gives a shit if you need to pee or if you just need a break. However, too many chefs have seen what happens when their cooks have nic fits in the middle of a shift. It’s how they get a break, and how non-smokers do a lot of work when people are feeling lazy. Loooooot more nic fits when there’s “nothing to do.”
  • “What are the essential tools every chef should have?”
    • A set of pots and pans that heat evenly and everything has a lid. You should do your own research, but I have All-Clad.
    • Spending the most you can afford on equipment for the restaurant and thus, me, and leaving the dishes and glassware to be picked up in the resale bin. You cannot afford to replace anything at $50 a wine glass when a customer or the dishwasher has an oopsie and destroys a whole case in the machine because they’re too delicate. That particular idea is from “Kitchen Confidential,” but it’s not like I don’t have the experience. I just didn’t write about it before he did.
    • A chef’s knife fit to height, and you need to experiment with which length is right for you. I am only 5’2. A 12-in chef’s knife is like seeing me in an XXL t-shirt.
    • A really, really good bread knife. Not only do you need the serrated edge for the crust, they’re handy when you have to break the skin on something, like a tomato or a bell pepper.
    • A set of spatulas that are silicon and won’t get hot if you accidentally leave them in the pan.
    • Cambros (storage containers of different sizes, same lids)
    • Scoops of varying sizes to ensure portion control/food cost.
    • There are a whole lot of things that fall under “etc.” here, but I promise you that 99% of the job is done with two knives and a spatula…. unless you have a flat top, and then I prefer dough cutters in both hands.
    • Comfortable shoes, because you need something that makes it where your feet don’t hurt after being on them for 12-14 hours a day up to seven days a week.
  • “What’s the role of creativity in cooking?”
    • Being able to adjust to anything on the fly. You never know what’s coming. If you get yourself into a mess, you better know how to get out of it. Luckily, the cooking fundamentals work across the ethnicity of the food. Acid neutralizes salt to some degree and starch will soak up the rest. Fat will support a lot of heat and spice. The more fat, the more Scovilles. Having anything sugary on the side is what makes riding the line between pain and pleasure so much fun- like habanero fudge ice cream at Pix Patisserie in Portland, OR….. which also falls under the “more fat” category. I don’t use heat to excess just for the hell of it. Whatever I’m cooking must have enough flavor to support that level of heat. For instance, acid, heat, and sugar mixing immediately in a fruit salsa. The way I shop never has to change. I don’t plan for what to cook, I work with what I have. Necessity is the mother of invention, and it creates flavor combinations that you wouldn’t have thought of before. If you don’t learn to step out on a limb to cook on principles and only follow recipes, then you are not a creative home cook- and that’s okay. Knowing how to execute a recipe is a skill Julia Child taught millions of people how to do that, even me before I married a chef and became French-trained by proxy. I’m not even sure I can follow a recipe because by the time I’ve gotten to the second paragraph, I’m like, “mmmmmm that’s not how we do that.” Creativity comes from tasting. Always. Rise above the recipe, and just feel it out. You can look up the technical details on YouTube, but only you know what spice levels you’ll tolerate. If something is bordering on inedible, sometimes full fat plain yogurt will kill the burn. Good luck. God bless.
    • But again, the most important role creativity plays in the kitchen is recovering from mistakes. I cannot stress this enough.

Writing a Letter, Part II

~ Leslie Lanagan ~ Leave a comment

Dear Mel,

I thought you might enjoy a food post since you’re in “learning a new kitchen” hell right now. I hope you’ll think of me when it’s time for your shiftie. If you don’t get this, I completely understand. See you in three years.

Love,

Leslie

When I think of food, I think of Mel, because she has jumped on the bandwagon of telling me to write more about it.

Because I am not up on current trends, I pick her brain looking for inspiration. I ask her food questions, she sends me pictures of Bletchley Park. It’s an even exchange. This is because asking her questions about food gives her energy. Getting the pictures is just a bonus. I don’t remember what food we were talking about at last interaction, I just think of her in general, the chef who can tell me about food culture in England and yet we’re tracking together like white on rice due to Escoffier’s meticulous detail.

If you have worked in a professional kitchen, you are beholden to him. The entire system was made by him. That’s why Julia Child was a tough motherfucker, and my language skills aren’t good enough to tell you how much of an understatement it is when you go through a program like that while female now. She was the first.

Working for OSS in Technical Services carrying around highly classified information is way less dangerous, but she did that, too. The reality is that there’s probably more sexual harassment and rape in kitchens/culinary schools than there is at OSS. I could be wrong. Those things are everywhere. Men do not like competition, and when their words fail, their fists come out- with other men. There’s a special hell for smart women, because few men truly recognize female brilliance when they see it. They’re programmed to be annoyed.

This is not any less true in the kitchen. It’s harder for women to speak up in all fields, but the kitchen is its own kind of hell because when you’re working that closely, you can’t help but touch each other. Assault happens every day of your life if some guy decides you deserve it, and some guy will. It hasn’t happened to me in every job consistently, but it has happened to me in every job. Every male line cook who has ever stood next to me saw me as his assistant. Every goddamn one.

We were paid the same, we had the same rights and responsibilities, and every day Daddy Knows Best. Nothing changes, whether they’re shit or fantastic. Male line cooks won’t ask women for advice unless they’re so young we have a matronly vibe to us- because they know they’re both screwed and scared and they can’t talk to anyone else. Men will not ask women anything until they’re afraid they’re going to lose their jobs and they have no choice but to be vulnerable. To be vulnerable to another male line cook is deadly for all kinds of personal and professional reasons….. one of them being that they’ll start treating the vulnerable kid like they treat women. Sexual harassment is real for men at work, because the amount of towel snapping and ass grabbing is highly regulated….. amongst each other.

Food isn’t worth it if you’re female. It’s just not. Those misogynistic French bastards took the thing women had been doing for millions of years unsung and decided it was valid when they learned. Just one of the many things women regret teaching men because thinking that women are the way they are (intellectually more stumped yet emotionally intelligent to the prehistoric) has so often come from theft. I can’t even imagine the numbers on an intellectual property lawsuit covering all women everywhere.

I am not saying women should quit (go on strike, really). I am saying that if you are female, you pursue this job because you can’t fucking do anything else. This is your passion, your drive, your coffee, your cocaine….. when you are high as hell on adrenaline after a rush, it becomes as primal a thrill as can be had legally. You dream pars and food cost. You have no idea what to do with yourself before 5:00PM. Days off are a story they tell little kids. Your family is a distant memory.

You didn’t come here to win. You came here to own the whole fucking thing.

And that’s what I’m thinking about when I think about Mel taking on a new kitchen. She can handle herself just fine. But I hope she has a me on the line, because there comes a time in every young man’s life where he will not accept female authority and needs to be disabused of the notion. This is probably best done by a chef barking down. But when they don’t, there’s safety in numbers and laughter in revenge.

I hope it’s going well for her. At least well enough to get a “heard.”

Lady Bits

~ Leslie Lanagan ~ 12 Comments

There aren’t many professions in which men and women are treated differently anymore. That’s because most businesses have an HR department. In the kitchen, you’ve got five people on shift who don’t give a shit about anything except finishing the night intact. Words are said. It’s always awful. You still don’t tell anyone anything, because it’s not that they’re gross, you’re uptight. If you don’t act like one of the guys, you can’t really survive in the kitchen, because there’s no respect for women except mothers. Not you, of course, but their own. The one who stood over them and taught them how to cook. Men treating women with respect in the kitchen has never been a thing. Julia Child was not a trailblazer because she worked for OSS. She’s a trailblazer because she made it through culinary school at all.

I have had the idea for an SNL skit for years (take it if you write for them) because of Julia. I read in the newspaper that Julia kept her phone number public long after her books were published and her television show was airing. The idea for the skit is that someone calls and she thinks it’s a home cook, but it’s CIA needing help on an old op or something. The entire conversation could be had because the information CIA needs is actually in cooking jargon.

She did make a shark repellent recipe. It’s a start.

The fun part is thinking about what “cassoulet,” “bechamel,” and “eclair” might have to do with spy jargon.

The writing prompt came from someone in my lady line cooks group who asked how to get men off her ass when she’s on her period, because she didn’t have enough to tolerate their bs today.

I said, “I compensate by being a complete bitch all the time so they can’t tell.”

It’s funny ’cause it’s true. I’m just not loud about it. Kinkaid can tell what I need with a look.

One of the reasons it’s so easy to get in the weeds is that so much of communication does become rote that you don’t talk about it, so you can’t recover from a mistake as fast. If you forget to drop a burger first and they want well done, there is no possible way it’s going to be on time. That’s throwing your waitstaff to the wolves, something I try very hard not to do. I will say that for all the waitstaff I’ve worked with, I’ve never dated any of them so they all remember me fondly.

This is generally the case in kitchens. Waitstaff jobs attract pretty actresses. The kitchen draws queer people to a moth like a flame, mostly women and men who won’t admit it because the homophobia is just that bad. Or there’s the alternative, the honey badger don’t care sexual assault. That dude does not care whether you like women or not. Whatever they’re packing is better than anything you’ve ever had and they believe it like Pete Davidson.

Chefs are known for thinking that they’re God’s gift to dick, and they lord it over female employees in the most subtle of ways as not to get caught. It’s bad for the women who reject them because there’s 20. It’s worse for the ones that think he’s serious and actually likes them.

People break up the mojo of the team all the time by sleeping together. Basically everyone pretends not to care, but they do. It’s not that our coworkers are boning, it’s that they do the job differently. They’re not as careful because they’re tired and they know fuckboy will excuse them, but he’ll beat hell down on us.

So, people are bitter and talk shit. If you can keep your relationship under wraps, it’s fine until you break up. Then all hell goes with it.

Dana and I could work together because we were both line cooks, but I gave her the authority of a chef because she had her stripes and I didn’t. That’s not true of most couples, and a few times it wasn’t even true of us. But we did a hell of a lot better than most couples. It didn’t get messy at work until after we left the kitchen.

Most of the time, two line cooks dating each other doesn’t happen because queer men aren’t on the line very often and neither are lesbians (we make up a disproportionate percentage, but still very small). It’s not that straight couples on the line don’t exist, it’s just not as prevalent for a straight woman and a straight man to cook together. Most of the time, when cooks are together, they work at different restaurants. When Dana and I had different jobs, I hated it. Absolutely hated it. This is because if we weren’t at work together, I didn’t see her.

My kitchen life doesn’t have room for anyone else, and everyone feels the same way. We all lead two lives. The one on the line, and the one where we’re helpless against the tide of people asking why we haven’t been to X or Y in a hundred years. God forbid someone actually takes in in that we’re sorry and we mean it, but you meet at 6:00 PM.

Mothers hate every holiday ever, because you’re not going to see us without three years’ notice. Moms do not understand when yes, they’re important, but so is having your ass on grill by five. It affects your future to a much larger degree. It shouldn’t, but it will. It’s a meritocracy.

Also, no one talks to anyone. So if you miss a shift and the manager isn’t there to tell everyone you died or someone close to you did, we will bitch the whole time about your absence and how you probably had brown bottle flu, but when we find out what really happened, you have never seen a team motivate faster in your life.

Being agile as a female cook is harder than being male once you have children. You can put up with all the shit until then. But no restaurant in the world is going to like it if you have a hard out, no matter what time it is. If you’re on day shift, you might be done by three, you might not. Roll with it. If you’re night crew, you might be done at 8:00, you might be done at midnight. Roll with it. That’s because restaurants have a system. If we’re not busy, no owner wants to pay labor. So, you might get three hours of work that day. You might get 12. You need to be prepared for either eventuality. People who show up for morning shift prepared to bust ass all day are worth their weight in gold because a hundred things could conspire to ruin dinner, and having a day crew that can cover prep while we chase down a problem saves everything. Because waitstaff makes tips and we make salary, I prefer being on day shift because it’s the easiest way to get paid more…. not in terms of salary. In terms of the number of hours you can get. It adds up.

I remember once I was worried that Supergrover didn’t have a job and I told her I could set her up with a sweet dishwashing gig in Columbia Heights. That’s funny on two levels. The first is that she’s buttoned up tight like Lindsay. Not because that’s who she is, that’s who she plays on TV. Just like Lindsay.

Therefore, the image of her washing dishes in Brooks Brothers was priceless, as was the thought of her washing dishes at all because I know her quite well. She doesn’t like cooking. She likes to have cooked.

What I do know is that her executive style rubbed off on me. I learned to stand up for myself easier. To notice when I had seniority and order people around like they did to me, because they didn’t have any more reason to tell me what to do than I did them. When chef isn’t there, you have to be loud and assertive, otherwise people will run right over you.

There’s never a way to be a “good” woman in a kitchen. You’re either going to get run over or seen as the biggest twatwaffle known to God and man when you try to flex. The hard part when you’re intimidated (if you’re me) is being 5’2 and arguing with someone is bigger, stronger, and generally angry at me because I’m a woman and my opinion means nothing.

I am lucky in that I have only had one job like that, the one in Silver Spring. It was no small consolation to learn that the owners had run the restaurant into the ground, just like I knew they would, seconded by my chef.

The rest of the time, it’s just been random comments and not constantly.

Most of the time, no one has noticed my lady bits.

The sad part is that it’s not because I wouldn’t want people to see me that way. It’s that in order to stand out, I have to blend in.

If you want to throw down in a kitchen because you think you’re being treated unfairly, focus on the food you make for yourself. Let everyone see what you’re doing. Let them have a bite. Cooks don’t listen with their ears. Respect will come from “how did you do that?”

The motto of the international brotherhood of line cooks is “we don’t have to talk about it. Just eat it.”

If you study hard, at least one of those times you’ll walk away feeling like God’s gift to something…… probably Pete Davidson.

Yes, Chef

~ Leslie Lanagan ~ Leave a comment

Two things have tickled me this week. The first was a meme talking about how people fawn over line cooks and somebody replied that line cook energy is Pete Davidson energy and she’d dated 15 of them. I wondered why if that was the case, why aren’t celebrities asking me out?

The other thing is that because of The Bear, people are starting to give line cooks/chefs Pedro Pascal energy. Yes, Chef is the new Daddy and I think it’s also hilarious. That’s because there is definitely something to watching us work. It’s mesmerizing. The mental and physical gymnastics on the brigade while it’s 110 degrees make us crazy and yet effective. Just know that it takes a lot to keep up that energy. Baby us when you can, because we hurt all over and our brains are fried. It’s not that the thinking is hard. It’s that it’s relentless. How do you time things to make sure everything is ready together? You work obsessively the whole time. We have more in common with athletes and ballet dancers than we don’t, because they don’t turn on the heaters and crank them up to hell at a basketball game.

I think that’s why Karens bother me so much.

It’s fine to complain about a restaurant’s food or service. However, Karens don’t seem to know how to get what they want without launching grenades. They will absolutely destroy someone’s self-esteem for a free soft drink…. and that’s not the scary part. The scary part is that they keep doing it over and over with absolutely no remorse. If I went on a date with someone like that, I would absolutely walk out in seconds. Even if I think you are God’s gift to the world, I will leave boot prints on your ass if you’re ever mean to waitstaff and cooks. That’s because there are some problems that can be worked out. There are some that can’t. Most of it depends on attitude. I have been a line cook for so long that I will not let it happen twice. Ever.

That’s because I’ve been hurt so badly that I’ve been taken to the ER twice in 25 years (I was waitstaff before I cooked), but I didn’t injure myself twice. I’ve worked a five hour shift after picking up a hot spoon where the plastic fused to my skin. I’ve still got a pink triangle on my arm from touching a convection oven, and I am proud of it on multiple levels.

Pink triangle on my sleeve…….

I have worked through the flu, migraines, shingles, you name it. In every restaurant where I’ve worked, if you needed help, you got it, but that shit takes a minute and a half, get back to work.

I could cut off a finger at some restaurants and they’d just put it in the walk in until we closed, because no one leaves til we’re done.

Yes, it is that bad, and I’m telling you that so the Karen shit stops.

I still have scars on my stomach from accidentally touching it with a fry basket because someone came toward me and I grabbed it reflexively.

If you’re wondering why so many of us are alcoholics and drug addicts, a small part of that is having no health insurance, so let that sink in. If no one is prescribing you actual medication, you have to get it from somewhere. However, we are all severely addicted to caffeine to the tune of several 300mg energy drinks a shift if we think we’re in the weeds.

And people wonder why I don’t watch “The Bear.” That shit is for waitstaff. For us, it’s just “trigger, trigger, trigger.” If I am ever in a coma, just play the sound of a ticket coming in and I will have my ass on grill IMMEDIATELY. I know that *some* cooks will watch it, but that’s not the majority. Most of us need Xanax after the first episode. You think that shit is easy? Chasing down a delivery before everything opens? That scene is where I went “nope.”

I went to bed thinking about my pars.

I went in on my days off because I needed to make sure everything was prepped because first rule is don’t trust anyone else. No one has your back in a meritocracy. It wasn’t a big deal to me, though, because sometimes it was just a matter of driving Dana when I was off. It wasn’t like I made a special trip. But still. Most blue collar workers don’t spend a second thinking about work off the clock and we dream ours.

If you quit a restaurant job, the sound of tickets coming in will haunt you for years.

The other thing you have to realize is that most waitstaff aren’t required to tip out the cooks, so the income disparity is enormous. They’re getting the pay while we’re doing all the work. It’s not your job to remember to tip out kitchen staff. People hardly ever do. But it is your job to recognize that you’re only seeing the top layer of a submarine…. just Denzel and Gene smoking cigars that cost more than drugs.

……and we’re all little ducks.

To handle that kind of pressure, we’re all assholes. Every single one. There has to be a relief valve somewhere. It is not unlike being a world class surgeon. You have to have the arrogance to believe you can save a life just like you have to have enough arrogance to believe that feeding 500 people is child’s play.

When it gets bad, people drink themselves to sleep. They drink on the line when it gets worse.

The kitchen itself is a drug from the moment you walk in. Even if you’re stone cold sober, you’ll feel adrenaline coursing through you. When I worked at a local brewpub, I drank Mexican Cokes after work and it still took several hours to calm down. I’m not an alcoholic/addict, but I don’t drink often now because I didn’t want to fall into the trap. Besides, their beer was barely below room temperature and all I wanted was ICE. The sugar replacement didn’t suck, either.

When I was working in the kitchen, I stayed up all night and slept most of the day. That’s because since it took so long to come down, I’d write until the wee hours. My favorite schedule was writing midnight to 0400, because I didn’t have to go to work until at least 1500, sometimes later. I fell easily into waking up at noon or one, and I had Bourdain’s perfect life, complete with anxiety and bipolar depression. It’s why he’s St. Anthony to all of us, really.

Dooce is not the only manic rambling spiral I aspire to be. I wanted to be Tony first. I didn’t want to do the whole TV thing, I just wanted to cook and write so that I didn’t have to do IT. I couldn’t write when I was in IT. I was tethered to my phone and laptop 24/7. I loved being able to be off.

The hardest part of cooking is that very little is open all night, and even though we *can* do our business before noon, dollars to donuts we won’t. We are too tired to do anything but sleep right up until service. I can be totally sober and still look like a tweaked out addict because there’s no one who doesn’t using caffeine at that level. It is straight up abuse.

So, when you come into our houses and treat us as lesser than, we get a bit………… testy.

If you want to know the power of the high, ask your coworkers whether they’ve ever been cooks. Most people who tell you they were will tell you they got out because of the stress and pain, and tell you it was one of the happiest times in their lives without taking another breath.

We don’t do it because it’s easy, we do it because it is hard…………. and chicks dig scars.

“Back of House”

Wilted

~ Leslie Lanagan ~ 2 Comments

I started my morning by making coffee and a “kitchen sink” wilted salad with over medium eggs on top (I am a vegan who cheats. A lot. #noguiltever). By “kitchen sink,” I mean I just threw in whatever fruits and veggies were available.

I started out with sesame seed oil, onions, garlic, mushrooms, diced Granny Smith apples, and ginger. To finish, I added a mixture of shaved brussel sprouts and spring mix (red romaine, baby spinach, radicchio, green romaine, arugula, red mustard, red chard, frisee), then put some rice wine vinegar in the bottom of the pan and let it reduce, helping the to greens soften and mix.

When the veggies were ready, I pushed them to the sides of the pan, making a perfect circle for two eggs, spraying the pan with sesame seed oil again so nothing would stick. I was going to do sunny side up, but I didn’t have a lid for the pan, and I grew tired of waiting for the yolks to cook, because it takes so much longer without steam.

The dish turned out perfectly, and I am my harshest critic. I was hungry in a now sort of way, otherwise I would have served everything over wild rice and lentils as well.

I have a rice cooker made by Instant Zest, and it is the best kitchen purchase I have ever made, because it was cheap and has settings for white rice, brown rice, steel cut oatmeal, quinoa, and veggie steam (which I have also used successfully for soft/hard boiled eggs).

It’s actually been a few days….. almost a week….. since I’ve cooked, because I had to gather the courage to do it again.  I was cubing raw sweet potato, and I cut myself in such a spectacular way that I don’t think I’ve ever had a worse kitchen injury. It happened so fast that I’m not even sure where I made the mistake. I don’t know if the cutting board slipped, the knife went sideways, it wasn’t sharp enough for raw potato, etc. It could also have been something I wouldn’t have caught, like my monocular vision making me think I was cutting a straight line, but I was actually cutting diagonally. This is a problem that is as equally likely as an accident I would have seen coming. All that being said, no matter what the cause, the effect was the same- absolute searing pain and bleeding so severe that I should have gone to Urgent Care/the ER to see if I needed stitches, but I didn’t.

My kitchen training was just too ingrained…. fix the problem and get back to cooking. It took forever to get it to clot, even using a styptic pencil for vasoconstriction. Once it did, I put on some Band-Aids and finished what I was doing. Two days later, I was taking off the Band-Aids to change the dressing, and it ripped open again, which led to another half hour of trying to fix profuse bleeding. Though I’d bought a first aid kit and very advanced bandages, I’d forgotten to get the one thing that would have really helped, and is a staple in a professional knife roll– Super Glue. If I’d gotten some, once the bleeding stopped, I probably could have avoided ripping it open again. You can chalk that one up to #dumbassattack, and it won’t be happening again.

Believe it or don’t, this is the first time I’ve cut myself in many years. When I was working professionally, at home I ran on sandwiches and hot dogs. The last thing I wanted to do when I got home was cook for myself…. so, the only time I used knives was at work, where everything is built for safety, even for short people like me. The counter is lower, the cutting boards are heavier and held in place by wet rags, at least one person in the kitchen has honing and sharpening tools, etc. I had plenty of injuries when it came to burning myself, but that was it.

It was funny the emotions that came up for me as soon as the knife went from sweet potato to the side of my finger and nail. I thought of all the professional chefs and cooks I’d worked with, including my ex-wife, Dana, and shame washed over me. I felt like I’d let them down. It was my own moment of feeling wilted.

For a home cook, it’s just an accident. For a professional cook, it’s “you were being a dumbass and whatever you did got you hurt. What the hell is wrong with you?” And believe me, with some chefs, that is the nice version of what they would have said. And if the chef wasn’t in the kitchen, your coworkers would do their job for them. For instance, Dana used to work in a high-end grocery store for the meat, sausage, and fish department. One of her coworkers sliced into his finger while filleting a fish, and the entire department called him Filet-O-Finger for YEARS ON END.

Speaking of which, the only time I ever got a nickname was due to no fault of my own. During junior college, I was on the waitstaff at my local Chili’s. It was a busy shift, and they hadn’t switched over to plastic mugs yet. So, this waiter broke one of the heavy glass mugs and like an idiot, just stuck it back in the rack. The manager made an announcement that the glass was broken, but I was delivering food and not there to hear it.

The way the mug was stuck down into the rack, you couldn’t see the broken part, so I came around the corner and it’s (of course) the first thing I pick up. Little shards immediately went into my pinkie at the knuckle, and it was definitely bad enough for stitches. The manager rushed me to the ER, and I didn’t go another day in that kitchen without being called “Worker’s Comp” by somebody. The reason that memory is still seared into my brain is that it’s been 20 years and the scar is still visible.

I have no reason to doubt that this cut will be the same. 20 years from now, I will still remember the day I was dicing raw sweet potatoes, because the cut is deep enough the scar will never fade.

So, today was about ignoring the fear I felt about cutting myself again so I could move past it for real. “Act as if,” you know? In fact, as everything was cooking, I kept cutting. I didn’t need but about a half of diced apple, so I cut the rest into very large dice, and did the same with another whole apple. It was enough to fill two Zip-Loc bags. With the first, I shook in a small box of sugar free cherry Jell-O powder, an idea my mom got from a magazine and is delicious with any flavor. A moment of grief washed over me, because I couldn’t remember the proportions and she wasn’t there to call and ask. She used to put Jell-O apples in my lunch box as a kid almost every day, so I knew she would know off the top of her head…… and Google is just no substitute.

It was yet another moment of feeling wilted, but due to the hopelessness of the situation, I just had to move on.

I figured I would learn on my own when I tasted them if I’d gotten it right or not, and moved on to the second bag, to which I added some rice wine vinegar to keep the apples fresh for cooking savory dishes or adding to a salad (Hmmmm…. there’s goat cheese in the fridge……).

The last thing I was thinking today is that my knife is so sharp that there’s no way it’s time to sharpen again, but it probably needs honing. I’ll call around and ask how much it would be, because I’ve never learned how to sharpen and hone a knife properly….. and no matter how much I spend on an electric honer/sharpener, it will not meet my expectations. I have seen the most expensive ones chew up a knife and spit it out, even if it worked perfectly before.

If it is more expensive than another chef’s knife from Chicago Cutlery, I’ll just get a new one and leave this one in the community block…. but I’m really hoping that it’s not, because this knife, since I hide it from my housemates, has become mine. I never got first blood on Rachel (so named since she was as sharp as a Maddow takedown), or the three knives before her. I haven’t named this one……..

It’s probably going to be “Worker’s Comp.”

That Moment When…

~ Leslie Lanagan ~ Leave a comment

That moment when you feel like you’ve just run a marathon in the kitchen is one of the best adrenaline rushes on earth, but it is often thankless. Last night, it wasn’t…. a moment I want to record here for posterity. One of the waitstaff came into the kitchen after about a four hour run and said:

Ticket times were on point. You guys rock.

I swear to God I almost started crying, because emotions were already running high in a “we made it” sort of way. The bar was busier than usual due to the Washington Capitals game (which we won- go Caps), and to say it was relentless was an understatement, especially with only me, one other cook, and a dishwasher. It really helped that this same waitress took time out to help us expo, which is shorthand for calling out to us what she needed and in what order, because we had so much food to hand out. She was the real hero. We were just background noise.

Generally, on nights that busy, there is a permanent expo- another cook or the kitchen manager- but no one expected us to be that busy on a Wednesday. Generally, expo is reserved for the weekend. This particular weekend is all hands on deck, because it’s a holiday known for three days of Bacchanalian splendor. IMG_0024It seems to defeat the purpose of the holiday. I can’t help but give thanks for the veterans who made it possible for us to have picnics and beer in our American egocentricity, when we forget that we get all these privileges for which they died to protect.

I know that I have ancestors who have died in wars, but I don’t have any friends who have. Luckily, all my friends who have served have made it home in one piece… but not necessarily in one peace. Because of this, I believe Thank You For Your Service is required viewing in addition to all your hot dogs and beer this weekend. Not only is it about death during wartime, but the aftermath of what those deaths do to the living, and the absolute hell the survivors go through in order to get help for it.

So while I am slinging hash, I’ll be thinking about why. The above picture is one that I took at Arlington National Cemetery myself, surrounded by people ignoring the signs to be quiet and respectful.

This weekend, it’s them that deserve your praise. Being able to cook well is a distant thousandth compared to their bravery, even the cooks in the military. I haven’t done it, but I am assuming that cooking is even more stressful under the threat of the mess hall being bombed. It makes me grateful for everything I have, and everything I ever will.

My job is often thankless because I’m just doing what I’m paid to do. It’s nice to get thanked, but it is not necessary. I make good money to do what I do, and I am internally satisfied when it goes well.

If their job is thankless, we are not doing so well in the basic humanity department. So, no matter what you’re drinking this weekend, from Diet Cokes to margaritas, raise a glass to the fallen. It’s the least we can do because they allow us to drink them. If you see a veteran this weekend, make sure to say “thank you for your service and sacrifice.” This is because it ignores how they might feel about why they did what they did, and how they might feel about what the top brass asked them to do. It is a simple acknowledgement that when you sign on the dotted line, you serve and you sacrifice.. no matter the administration or the justification for the fight.

Yes, Memorial Day honors those who have lost their lives, but at the same time, it is not a bad thing to honor the living while we’re at it. Some soldiers suffer incredible survivors’ guilt, and though it is inappropriate to say so, you never know what kind of sacrifice you’re honoring that day…. and maybe, just maybe, it is exactly what that soldier needs to hear at the time he or she needs to hear it.

Dish

~ Leslie Lanagan ~ Leave a comment

The more things change, the more they stay the same. Things in the kitchen haven’t progressed in thousands of years. Everything is done the same way, for good reason. The most important thing is that line cooks only have to be trained once… well, sort of. There are surface tasks that come with every new restaurant, but equipment is basically standard, and if you know how to clean one brand of range, oven, salamander, griddle, etc., you probably know how to clean them all.

What is different is staff personalities, and I am lucky in my kitchen that everyone gets along, even (unusually) the waitstaff and the cooks. There is not the back and forth blame game that generally exists between front of house (FOH) and back of house (BOH). For all you customers out there, never blame the waitstaff and stiff them if a) it takes a while to get your food b) something is wrong with the food. Neither of these things is ever their fault. It’s not like they’re lazy and just forgot to pick up your order.

Most likely, something was dropped, spilled, or otherwise ruined by one of my ilk and we’re not in the back trying to fix a mistake- we’re redoing it from scratch because nothing can ever really be “fixed.” I don’t think a customer has ever said “just pick it up off the floor… it’s faster that way.” It should be a comfort to you that we never do.

The other thing I’ve noticed that customers do all the time is tell the waitstaff that the food is fine rather than send it back. Especially in DC, food is expensive. I never want you to pay that much for a sub-par meal, even though I’ve done it because I’m sensitive to the kitchen- overwhelmingly so… even though I know that the cooks would be more embarrassed not to know that the food wasn’t great. Even if it’s something small, like the fries are cold, send it back.

Also, never blame the waitstaff if your drink is taking a long time unless you’ve ordered tea, coffee, water, or a soft drink. The bar is just as busy as the kitchen, and a table full of mojitos is manual labor. In fact, I would probably go so far as to say you should tip more for a martini, Old Fashioned, or a mojito than a beer, because the bartender has to take extra time just for you. Anything that has to be muddled or shaken takes longer.

Actually, let’s just put out the general rule that if you don’t have enough money to tip well, you don’t have enough to go out to eat.

Things in my personal life have also changed by going back to the kitchen. It feels overwhelmingly good, because the race brain of rumination has stopped. I love working with my hands for this very reason. As a writer and empath, I am all too often up in my head. The fast pace of a restaurant makes it impossible. I am only thinking about what’s right in front of me, and trying to anticipate what’s next. Before work, I have an amazing amount of caffeine and an anti-anxiety pill, because I need to be sharp and, at the same time, unfazed when I am ass deep in tickets. When there are 30-40 people waiting for food at the same time, I cannot afford to panic. The medication does not stop the feeling of being panicked, it stops the part where my heartbeat goes to 150 and I can’t breathe all the way down, can’t calmly do the math of what needs to go where and when. It’s worse in a pub, because in fine dining, people are seated in order, and though the pace is fast, it’s not the same as people seating themselves and literally fifty people ordering within two minutes of each other, all expecting food in the next 10. It is gymnastics, and we pull it off… I am still not sure how. All I know is at the end of the night, I feel like I should be standing on some sort of podium complete with a John Williams fanfare.

After work, I have a short adrenaline rush and then I can barely move, my brain leaking out of my ear. I know beyond a shadow of a doubt that I need to shower, because I’m covered in grease and maybe food. But I don’t have much luck in making myself. I walk into my room and see my bed and then it’s all over.

When I do take a shower, I have needed to change soaps. I used to use something non-drying that cares for my skin. Now, I basically need a degreaser, even on my face. I have not tried showering with Dawn™ yet, but it wouldn’t be out of place. I can just hear it now from my roommates…. “Leslie, why is there a bottle of Dawn in our shower?” “Oh, I worked fry station last night.” Every time I drop in French fries, taquitos, or anything else, a bit of grease splashes onto me. After six or eight hours, I have a vegetable oil facial…. which is actually not as much fun as it sounds.

I generally take an Uber Pool home, because the buses have stopped running. I get into the car and immediately apologize. “I just got off work and I’m really sorry if all you can smell is fried food.” Generally, no one minds, especially the driver, who’s just glad he didn’t come to a pub to pick up a drunk.

Although he might has well have. At that point in the evening, my mind works, but I have about as much control over my limbs as they do… my entire body feels like spaghetti and I can hardly lift my backpack, even when I’m only carrying my phone, wallet, knife (in its sheath), and shoes. I carry a different pair so that after work, the pressure points on my feet are different than my kitchen shoes. It helps.

I’m also wearing jeans in the kitchen until I can get my chef’s pants tailored, because I can roll them up and they’ll stay for about five minutes, and I can’t afford the time to keep rolling them OR to trip. If I trip on the line, I can easily take three people down with me. It’s a gift.

Well, the real gift is cooking altogether. I can’t think of any job I’d rather have, because while it is not known for making one rich, it is definitely known for making one happy. Even though I’ve said it before, I can’t think of anybody who has more complaints than a line cook… mostly about how much they hurt… but never, ever ask them if they’d rather be doing something else.

It’s, as Anthony Bourdain would say, “a tribe that would have us.”

And, like Bourdain, I am glad that I have a job that allows me to continue to write, because for all its flaws, cooking doesn’t have homework and there’s no tether to all my technology for e-mails that come in the middle of the night. Perhaps one day I’ll have that type job again, but for now, I can’t think of anything more perfect than a nice cup of coffee and a sit down, where I get to “dish.”

Oh, man…..

~ Leslie Lanagan ~ Leave a comment

I was completely worthless today.

Everything hurt, even muscles I forgot I had. If the stage was successful and I am offered the job, it won’t be a problem. I’ll be doing those kinds of acrobatics every day. I ran my ass off last night (which is bad… I don’t have much to begin with). I worked out more in four hours than I have in the last five years.

I woke up with the allergy attack from hell, and I still couldn’t make myself get up and take a shower. My arms and legs just rebelled. When I couldn’t find my Zyrtec bottle, I took some Benedryl and Sudafed, then padded downstairs for some Peet’s French Roast. Then, I did what any sane cook would do. I got back in bed.

After about four hours, when my allergy attack still hadn’t gone away, I got in the shower. Sometimes it helps to wash my face, because usually I’ve got dust or pollen on my skin. I also thought that hot water might ease the strain on my muscles. I, in fact, thought wrong. It’s almost 2330 and I still feel like I’ve been hit by a truck.

It occurred to me that I’m not 25, or even 30 anymore…. but I don’t think that’s the problem. I think having computer butt is the culprit. Someone who spends most of their day at a desk or in bed with a laptop is not going to feel awesome after a kitchen shift, especially when orders are coming in relentlessly for hours.

And, like most cooks, I woke up in the middle of the night- panicked because the ticket machine was going off in my head and I forgot to drop the taquitos and the pretzels were burning and everyone else had disappeared, even the dishwasher…… I ran back and forth between the dish pit and dry storage trying to find César because I was up to my ass in tickets….. If you’ve ever wondered how cooks dream, this is it…. a series of nightmare scenarios….. even after a night where everything went perfectly…. because it didn’t happen, but it could’ve.

Having worked front of house, I know waitstaff has their own version of snapping awake. They suddenly think things like, “I never did bring them their ranch,” and their throats tighten.

What I’ve learned over years and years, though, is that I’ve never heard anyone complain more than line cooks, but never, ever say to them that they could always do something else.