Ok, so I was cleaning out my inbox and realized I never posted this piece sent out via email on 7/27/07. Anyway here it is.
Ok so I got a new job…well two but I’m not ready to discus the other one
yet. I work part time at a fine dining establishment on the garde manger
station or you could just call me the pantry chef. I make salads, prep
desserts and plate them when the order comes in and if I do say so myself it
looks like it came straight out of the Top Chef kitchen.
The restaurant is a little like Hell’s Kitchen minus the incredibly insane
executive chef. There is a lot of :
“Yes Chef.” “Two Minutes Chef”
Sometimes… he yells. My chef is firm but not abusive. He also cuts me a
lot of slack. I like to tell myself that it is because I’m new or because
I’m only there two nights a week but deep down, I know it is because I’m
female. And all I can say is
YEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!!!!
I’ve heard the way he talks to the guys. It scares me. HE scares me but I
know he means well. He just wants me to be a better cook. He sympathizes
with the fact that I went corporate and as a result walked away from my
passion, my life. During my interview he asked me what the best dessert I
ever made was and at a loss I blurted out-
Tres Leches.
-Tres Leches, that’s simple and really good if done well. I’d put it on my
menu. (insert my smile here)
We also bonded at the fact that I was from Panama and he had been offered a
job in Bocas del Toro, Panama. I felt like I was hitting it out of the
park.
On a side note, I ran into an old customer of mine from Trio. He asked me
when I would start cooking at this new place.
Well… they have me doing this (this, meaning stocking shelves) and I don’t
have time.
-What?!?! That’s like making Barry Bonds the batboy! Well maybe one day they
will see what they got in you.
I smiled. Mostly because I didn’t know who the hell Barry Bonds was and I
was too ashamed to ask. Later a friend told me and I smiled some more.
Aww, he thinks I’m Barry Bonds! I realized I hadn’t completely sold out if I
still had people savoring my Cuban style rice pudding or my suspiro cookies.
Anyhow, I digress. I spent a lot of time trying to be one of the boys but
realized the heat that comes with being male is more than I can handle. He
dosen’t let them half-step. EVER. When Miranda isn’t there I am the only
female cook and Chef doesn’t allow the men to curse or be sexually explicit
around me. I wasn’t used to that. I thought I had to put up with it to be
respected when in reality it was slowly starting to turn me into a potty
mouth kitchen @#$%. Trust me, I’ve met the type; it’s just not cute.
Walking into this restaurant I was expected to know certain things and found
myself being quizzed on a regular basis.
Andrea, what are the measurements for fine dice?
Ok then I need you to fine dice these jalapenos.
Make a 1/5 recipe of anglaise. (Anglaise by the way had been my nemesis at
Trio. I couldn’t get it right. I always scrambled the eggs. I got it right
on the first try that day and I was soooooo proud of myself! Again big
smile)
What are the four appropriate ways to thaw frozen food?
Can you chiffonade this romaine?
Argh!
I knew it. I knew it all. I just didn’t think I would have to prove myself
on an hour-by-hour basis. I also didn’t realize that new job = new mistakes
to make.
A party of 30 came in and they all ordered the same salad. I got out a big
bowl and started making it. After plating them I put them in the window.
30 House salads up!
-Thank you House. (They thank you when you’re finished with the name of the
dish)
He steals a piece of lettuce off one and eats it.
-Wait did you taste this?
Yes chef
-Taste it again
As I’m chewing I start to kick myself
-What do you taste?
Pepper, chef
-Throw this out and redo them, FAST!
Embarrassed and flustered I struggled to redo them.
Lesson learned. Be careful with the pepper.
One day I was fine dicing the jalapenos, which by the way is 1/8 by 1/8 of
an inch. I was happy as a clam that I was getting to work on my knife skills
when my hands started to tingle. By the time I was done my hands felt like
they were on fire. It hurt so bad I couldn’t think straight. I asked my
sous chef and he was like
Aw man, I should have told you to wear gloves.
Shoulda, coulda, woulda, I thought.
He told me to go ask Chef what I should do to make it stop. Chef said that
there wasn’t anything I could do and it should go away in half hour. EIGHT
HOURS LATER my hands were still burning. From time to time I would run it
under cold water to get some relief but it was only temporary. As soon as
my hands were dry the fire would start again.
Lesson learned. Wear gloves when chopping peppers. You can’t punch someone
when your hands hurt.
Later that night I was cleaning the sink out and decided to flush it out
with the hot water on full blast. When I was done I cleaned the shelf above
the sink and my arm touched the pipe. It was scalding hot!
Ow!
I jerked up and slammed my hand against the metal shelf.
@#$#$#@#@$%$#@%#$@%#$@%#$@%$#%@#!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
I sighed. The last time I was there I was too close to the oven and burned
a patch of skin off my arm.
Barry Bonds was making rookie mistakes.
The next day I looked at my arm and I had a bar shaped burn on one side and
a big bruise on the other. Oddly enough, I smiled. I had war wounds to
show off again. My hands and arms used to be full of scars where I had
burned and cut myself all in the name of the game. They have healed and
most have them have faded because during the day I work in a safe, plush
environment. Also you can’t burn yourself with a pricing gun.
My moral for today:
Whether you are a rookie or Barry Bonds – find a reason to smile.
Not taking herself too seriously,
Andiepandie31
