Free Money

Listening: But you must always know how long to stay and when to go.

What's my problem? Even eleven o'clock flights require me to wake up too early.

Not in the ATL. Not too broken up about it either. I'll explain.

Over the last week or so, I have been re-acclimating myself to my apartment. I've been re-acclimating myself to city life. I've been re-acclimating myself to my friends. It feels nice.

I have had some real quality nights of sleep in my own bed. I know that I talk about it a lot. I don't know if my bed in Nantucket was that shitty or if my bed in Cambridge is that faboo. The bottom line is that I get some killer sleep in Cambridge. Another funny thing is that my pillows have multiplied, some from a friend giving me some as a gift, and others from Iria leaving some behind. Right now, there are a total of seven pillows on my full size bed. I can make an igloo of pillows to live in if it gets too cold.

Anyhow, I've been enjoying city life and my city dwelling, but this morning at eleven in the morning, I was supposed to board a plane to suburban wasteland, where the make-up on girls is as thick as the accent from their lips and the stars and bars wave everywhere. It's been a while since I had been down to the 'rent's place in Atlanta, so for all I know, it could have changed for the better. However, the last time I was there, all there was to do was go to a mall or go see a movie. You could sit at home. You could go for a walk (around a gated community). And that's about it. I can't walk to a grocery store. There has to be wheels involved.

When I travel, I like to be flexible. I like to walk up to the gate counter and say, "So... How full is this flight?" If they say that the flight is overbooked or oversold, I then ask them if they are looking for volunteers to be bumped and ask what they're offering. Today, I was rewarded with $400 for avoiding one day in suburban sprawl. That's right. Four hundred bones.

It's not the first time this has happened. One holiday a few years ago, my brother and I got bumped twice on the way to Vancouver. I've been bumped at least six times for at least $2400. If you add in all of the meal vouchers, I have probably made another hundred or two. It's kind of my thing. I paid for my trip to Japan in 2001 with vouchers from being bumped. Unfortunately, with my new occupation, I haven't had much time to travel and, hence, I haven't had a lot of time to get bumped. So, I'm hoping that this is the beginning of a roll. I hope I travel a little bit more and that I can keep rolling my bump dollars.

Tomorrow, I have a ticket on a plane that takes off at half past eight in the morning. I'm hoping to get bumped off that flight too. Anyhow, I need to get some sleep. I gotta catch the first T out in the morning. There's more stuff too, but I'm too tired to recount it right now. Perhaps tomorrow night.

To Do List.

Listening: I don't know what to do with myself. Movies only make me sad. Parties make me feel as bad, 'cause I'm not with you.

What's my problem? I need to be busy.

First day off the island and I am at a loss for what to do. I know I have stuff to do, but I'm just not feeling like I want to do it. I had to unpack today, but I really only unpacked about two thirds of the stuff I brought back, the two thirds that were easy. That included putting dirty laundry into the laundry basket, along with the bedding from the island, putting my shoes in the foyer, unpacking some food brought back, pulling out my toiletries, and, well, that's about it.

It took a great deal of effort to get back home. I was exhausted all day. As noted from the last post, I was awake when I should have been sleeping. I eventually got back to sleep at seven in the morning, and slept for two hours. At nine, I got out of bed, showered, and started to finish packing and cleaning the apartment. It really is amazing how many condiments I had to empty out of the fridge before I wiped it out. At eleven thirty, I went to get my ferry ticket, and more importantly some coffee, before moving my two duffels, my two backpacks, and my bike into the kitchen to get ready to go.

Chef was nice enough to give me a ride to the ferry. If he hadn't offered, I probably would have called a cab. The boat ride was uneventful. I anticipated sleeping the whole way, but I found myself looking out the window, listening to my ipod and watching the spray come off the side of the boat.

When I got off the boat, Sam was running late and had some car trouble going on. I'm not quite sure what was happening, but I know that it DEFINITELY needed to be looked at. I think that at one point I didn't think the car was gonna make it. What made it even more weird was the fact that her car is usually in tip top condition. She keeps this car amazingly maintained. Any little thing, she has fixed.

We did eventually make it back to Boston, but she was running late for work. She ended up leaving me near Harvard Square, swearing that my stuff would be safe in her car parked behind Lumiere. I have to say that I was a little bummed that I had to walk back to Porter Square, but it gave me an opportunity to pick up a CD that I wanted.

See, I took lemons, and I came out with a CD. I bought the new-ish Rachael Yamagata disc "Elephants/Teeth Sinking Into Heart." It's actually a two disc set, each with its own character. I expected the Elephants disc to have more of her upbeat stuff and the Teeth Sinking Into Heart disc to be more downtempo and melancholy, but I was wrong. The Elephants disc was more of the heart wrenching, chilled out, haunting vocals that I have come to love from her. Though I have only given it one serious listen-through, I'm not nearly as impressed with the Teeth Sinking Into Heart disc. It jammed out a bit, but it didn't have any sort feeling like I got from the songs "Worn Me Down" and "1963" from the Happenstance album. Still, regardless, I love her raspy vocals and her honest lyrics and melodies.

Anyhow, after I got home, I immediately dropped my backpack and headed over to the Chez to have my first meal of the day at six o'clock. That's right. Up until that point, I had consumed a mere two cups of coffee, a Pepsi and nothing else. I was HUNGRY. So after dropping off some Nantucket cranberries to Marsoir, I sat down, had a Smuttynose and Cubano. Other than that, my visit to the Chez was pretty standard. There was a person in the dining room who ordered a Manhattan in a wine glass. The couple next to me snickered along with me.

After dinner was naptime. It must have slept for a good couple of hours. I woke up just in time to watch Heroes with my roomie. After watching a little TV, I was off to meet my friend for a drink. She was only in town for the night from the west coast, so it was something that had to be done. By the time I got home it was one in the morning and I was off to dreamland in a hurry.

Today, I woke up late, and as I said before I didn't do much of anything. I spent most of the day aimlessly walking around the city, something I haven't had the opportunity to do in quite some time. There are a million things that I should have been doing. So here's what I have to do in no particular order:

1. Go look at digital cameras
2. Research more about Asia airfare packages
3. Go look at digital scales
4. Re-tool and reorganize my iTunes
5. Organize my room/put away my clothes
6. Do laundry
7. Ask a Mac "Genius" about leaving my computer untouched for 2.5 months
8. Ask a Mac "Genius" about how my computer's fan is really loud sometimes
9. Get a haircut
10. Relax a little
11. Think about getting my scooter (they're on sale at scootersgogreen.com
12. Find moisture-wicking, quick drying boxers at a reasonable price for my trip
13. Get a pair of pants hemmed
14. Eat (I have slacked a bit on this over the last few days)
15. Drop Nantucket cranberries off to Rendezvous and catch up with Ben and Mark

I'm sure that there's more that I have to do, but I think that's a good start to my list. I'm sure that more will be added to it, but the real question is: How much of it will I do tomorrow?

Day 210: Exodus

Listening: I wanna stop silly little games you and me play. And I am feeling right on. If you feel the same way, baby, let me know right away.

What's my problem? It's 5:30AM and I'm awake.

It's half past five in the morning. I should be asleep. I have been awake for the past four or so hours. After I came home from the bar at around midnight, I fell right to sleep. A couple of hours later, I was awake again. And now I have a bit of a headache. There are a lot of things going on in my mind from the professional to the personal, all of which I wish I could clear out of my brain. And to make it all even better, I haven't been able to get the smell of bleach off of my hands from the intense scrub down of the kitchen earlier.

The last day of service was pretty calm. Since I got raped on the second to last night of service, I really was the only person with any prep to do. When I prepped on the second to last day, I tried to make just enough to get me through the last day. What I didn't count on was that the servers would sell seventeen pork chops. We did a total of about fifty covers that night. That's more than a third of the diners having pork chops. I also sold quite a bit of beef tenderloin and buffalo as well. It's kind of amazing how a station can just get completely obliterated when another station has their thumbs up their asses.

Anyhow, I actually had to prep on the last day of service. I was riding a little low and uncomfortable on collard greens, orzo, cheese sauce and crushed fingerling potatoes. I prepped the collards, orzo and the cheese sauce, but I decided to ride out the crushed fingerlings. As it turned out, I was right on for the crushed fingerlings, the cheese sauce and the orzo, but came out way ahead with the collards. Bastard guests who don't follow a trend! I expected to sell at least the nine pork chops I had on hand, marinated, and even to cut into the cryo-vaced ones I had in reserve. I only sold eight. I sold eight buffalo, four beef tenderloins, and one veg tart. All in all, it was a pretty easy night. I did sweat the crushed potatoes around the middle of service, but when the last order rolled in, I had a half a quart left. I actually started with two and a quarter quarts.

After service, we did some massive cleaning. The salamander, the grill and the ovens all got taken apart and cleaned. The low-boy fridges got emptied and scrubbed out. Dishes, glasses, and flatware, as well as all of the food storage plastics, all got put in storage. Cleaning up felt like it took significantly longer than usual, and it did take longer, but not as long as I thought it was taking. Before I knew it, though, the nightly clean was done and all that was left was the finishing and detailing that we did today.

Also on the last day of service, Chef asked me to have a sit down. We discussed where I was at as far as coming back next season. I told him that I thought that it would be good for me on many levels to come back. Earlier in the day, I had run into Pies in town and asked him if he had a problem with me coming back. He said that he'd be fine with it, and I'm guessing that he relayed that back to Chef. After we established that I would be coming back, Chef kind of gave me a bit of a reality check. He outlined things that he thought that I would need to work on, namely prep-speed/efficiency, quality/consistency, and kind of not strictly paying attention to my own station/getting a greater scope of the kitchen. Some of the stuff that he said was kind of hard to hear. It was all stuff that I have going on in my head already, that I beat myself up over, so hearing someone else say it just sucked.

Cleaning day was easy. I got there a bit late, because Chef said to be there between eleven and eleven thirty. I showed up at twenty past eleven after getting coffee and chatting with my friend Megan. The front of the house people were there at ten and the kitchen staff all rolled in around eleven. So, I was the last man there today. What sucked about the cleaning day was that there was no list of things to do. You had to keep asking and asking and asking. I kind of wished that I just had a list of things to do and I could just do it.

After cleaning day, six of us went to Kitty Murtaugh's for some brunch. I had my very first Tanqueray Bloody Mary. I have to say it beats the piss out of a vodka Bloody Mary. It's just so much smoother.

Tonight was Peroni's farewell party. She has been on the island for about five years or so and is moving to San Francisco to do something with nutrition and whole foods. It was at this party that Pies and I had another talk about how the last two months went down, and we finally connected on what was happening. I understood where he was coming from, as he thought I was slacking because I was short-timing it. I thought he was being a non-constructive bitch, because he was. We cleared it all up and we're set straight for next season. It was just so frustrating these past couple of months.

The one thing that was said by both Chef and by Pies in our conversations that made me feel good was that I was cooking at an extraordinarily high level for a guy who has only been cooking professionally for three or four years without any culinary training. Of course, it was also coupled with the phrase, "but you still have a lot to learn and a lot to work on." I choose to focus more on the positive side.

So, today, I go back to civilization, to tackle what I think is going to be a can of worms. There are a lot of things that I have to take care of, and a lot of things that I need to tie up before I head to Asia. All I want to do, though, for now, is chill the fuck out. I want to work when I want to work and I want to see people I want to see. I want to sleep how I want to sleep, and I want to walk where I want to walk. Vacation is upon me. Hopefully I won't spend too much money before the good part gets here.

Random note: I find that when I try to type the word "good," I often type the word "food." Coincidence of the keys being too close together? I think not. Imagine the last sentence of that last paragraph if I had switched the two words. The sentence would kind of have the same meaning. Maybe that's just the quarter past six in the morning talking.

Day 206: I Never Thought

Listening: Don't suffer no more. Just step inside and listen. Listen to my pillbox tales.

What's my problem? My knife callus says ouch.

Over the past two days I have been pulling some hours at the Chez, doing some prep work for a couple of catering jobs. Initially, I thought that I would only be prepping for one catering job, not two. It just so happened that the Chez was booked for an afternoon private party on one of the afternoons that I would be prepping.

The first day that I prepped, I did things for the bigger catering job. The problem was that there wasn't enough product in the walk-in for me to really get much done. Furthermore, I was kind of tired from being up at five in the morning to catch a ride into town. I think it made me a bit less productive than I wanted to be. I prepped a lot of the day facing the line as they cooked, and that made it a bit more laxed than in other conditions I could have been prepping in. I prepped from half past one until about ten o'clock. When I got off work, who was waiting in the bar, chillin' with a beer? It was the old pastry chef, Anne.

As the beers got drank, and the line cooks finished cleaning, I got caught up on current events and found out that Anne would be kicking it in the kitchen for this catering job as well. As it turns out, it would be an old school team working for catering the next day. It would be Paul and Marsoir, Anne and I. The two management people and the two ex-employees.

The second day is what I call The Perfect Fuck Storm. It's like "The Perfect Storm" when a number of storms converge into a bigger, supremely powerful storm. In this case, it was two fuck storms that converged upon the Chez.

In this case, not only was there the catering job for 150 people that I said that I would help with, but there was another 60 person in-house party that we had to do passed hors d'oerves. Cuban sandwiches were on the menu, but the pork wasn't roasted off a day ahead. Aioli, pickle mix, grilled veg, sliced ham and cheese, nothing was done in advance. In my time, I would have made the Cubanos the day before so that they were ready for three o'clock with no fuss. Garde manger should have known that this was coming down the pipe and should have been prepared for it. So, I had to take time out of prepping for the pig party to put all of that shit together, which takes a lot longer when you have to prep it from the ground up. I felt like I wasted so much time getting the stuff together for the Cubanos that I didn't have as much time to prep the other crap that needed to be done.

Furthermore, no one pushes their dishes through when there's no dishwasher, so who steps up to rock dish pit until the dust settles? Me, the guy they're paying much more money than they should be paying a dish washer. Total. Fuck. Storm.

When the party cleared and regular service began, I was finally able to work on the 150 person party. Luckily I was stuck downstairs with Anne, the old pastry chef, and Jen, the new pastry chef. Both are delightful women, and there was always something interesting to talk about, whether it was about how the catering job would go down to traveling to running marathons.

I did so much more knife work that night than I do on a normal basis at Seasons that my knife callus on the inside of my right index finger legitimately hurt. I julienned 10 cucumbers for spring rolls and turned a whole side of slab bacon into matchstick lardons (and it's a lot of fucking lardons).

Anyhow, I'm back on the island for my last few days of work. I can't help but be a little sad. I realize that I made some good money this summer, or at least as much as I would have made in Boston. I've met some wonderful people, and some not so savory individuals. I've laid out on the beach. I've imbibed some beverages. A few more days and I'm back into the land of ethnic food.

And in other news, I have discovered a new song that I dig. Originally, I heard it here:



After I heard Sweetafton23 sing it, I searched out the Jon Brion version, and then realized that it was a cover of a Rhett Miller song. They all sound really similar, but I just dig it a lot. If you haven't heard it, check it out.

Day 203: Asian-Jacking, Sport Loitering, & Slacking Off

Listening: I fell into a winter slide and ended up the kind of kid who goes down chutes too narrow, just eeking out my measly pies.

What's my problem? My delinquency.

It's a quarter to three and I'm in my apartment hanging out on the internet with a friend plinking on her keyboard on the other couch. There will be food served tonight. There will be food consumed at the restaurant. I do not have the day off. I just have nothing of value to do in the kitchen until it comes to make staff meal. My list looks a little like this:

Check b-nut (butternut squash)
Check orzo
Braise beef cheeks for use on Thursday or Friday.
Staff meal.

Not a whole lot. Apparently Chef had already checked my b-nut and my orzo before I even went in late at two o'clock. The beef cheeks, he said, could be done on Thursday if I really wanted to put them off. He told me to go home for a while. I'm glad I didn't have much of a commute, just down the stairs. He sent Pies home for a while too. Pablo was told not to come in until late as well.

We have fifteen on. I can't see us doing much more than thirty. I'm just hoping to move some of my proteins.

The note of my upcoming slow service is, by no means, an excuse for my delinquency in posting. I have an excuse though. I have become the victim of "Asian-jacking." No. Not that kind of jacking. It's like hijacking, but instead of being swooped away by people you don't know for an agenda you don't know, you're surprisingly swooped away by a fellow Asian person, and brought on an potentially aimless adventure. Sometimes the adventure has direction, but it doesn't necessarily need to. One of my friends was "Asian-jacked" by being texted to come out of her house where her friend was already there, led to get sushi and whisked away to another house, all completely not premeditated by the victim of the "Asian-jacking."

I was "Asian-jacked" by my friend the other day (though it has happened a couple of times since then). She texted me for coffee, not realizing that I was one of those folks who lingers in bed for much longer than the normal person. Successful in rousing me from bed, we proceeded to have breakfast at the Downy Flake, sat there for a good few hours watching people come and go. We then drove out to Altar Rock, hung out there for a while. I helped her move some stuff to her new digs and then went to the Cisco brewery. We had a couple of pints and then went for dinner at Kitty Murtaugh's. We sat there for HOURS just drinking water after we finished. I came up with the idea that we had been sport loitering all day. We would seriously go somewhere, hang out for long periods of time, go somewhere else and hang out there for long periods of time. The word loitering was brought up by my friend, but it kind of went beyond just simple loitering. It took some serious skill, practice and dedication. Or maybe it just takes a dead island and two reasonably intellectual people who like to talk.

Anyhow it's a quarter past three. Maybe I should be going in soon. *sigh* Time for six hours of boredom. It's like the summer in Cambridge, but cold and with nowhere to go. I'll be back in the city tomorrow for catering prep with the Chez folks. It should be a good time. Maybe I'll even get some dim sum while I'm there.

Day 193: A Kind of Peace & Back Into The Fray

Listening: Slow down. Who you gonna turn to when there's nothing left for you to prove? And I can't control myself, and I won't be no one else.

What's my problem? I'm schleepy.

Oh, man. I am tired. It's been a long, but good 36... err... 48?

Wednesday was a nice busy service. We had fifty or so on the books, which is more than we've had for quite some time. It's not to say that we haven't done fifty covers in a night in a while. But it is certainly true that we haven't had fifty guaranteed covers in a long time.

As the day before Thanksgiving, we expected it to be busy too. I expected it to be moderately busy, so I did a bit more prep than I usually do. The funny thing was that more food was ordered off my station than I anticipated. I thought that, for sure, people would be chowing down on fish and lighter fare. How wrong I was. It was all braised beef cheek and buffalo sirloin. I sold nine of each plus four pork chops and one veg tart.

When I looked at my mise en place at the end of the night, I realized that I had prepped enough, but not enough of the things that would last the day off. I rode the line of "do I need to make more or should I ride with what I have?" Had it been a normal fall or winter day after the one day off, I would have let it ride. Since it was to be the day after Thanksgiving and we, again, had fifty on the books, I had to bulk my station. My prep list reflected that. I knew that Friday would hurt.

Since Wednesday was Pies' birthday, a bunch of us went to Kitty Murtaugh's to celebrate. Well, I went out to buy a round for Pies and Papi, as it was his birthday the day before. I chilled with the crew for a while until my friend showed up. After that, I let them have their shots of Jamison's and their stack of pint glasses while I enjoyed my friend's company. Before I knew it, they had the bright idea of going to Bamboo, a bar on the island known for it's rougher crowd and frequent fights. I opted to stay at Kitty's with my friend and bummed a ride home from her.

Thanksgiving day was an early start for me. Up, out of bed, showered and dressed all before a quarter to ten. Now that I'm thinking about it, it's not that impressive. I've been up before that on a number of occasions this summer. Anyhow, I actually set my alarm specifically to get up early and be ready for when my friend picked me up at a quarter past ten.

The plan was to go over to a house where another friend of ours was pet/house sitting where we would, off the cuff, cook a Thanksgiving dinner. Well, two of us would cook. Everyone else would just relax, eat, drink and be merry.

There were five of us altogether, and, lucky me, I was the only guy. I'm not saying that with any sort of sarcasm. These chicas are all cool, funny, intelligent, and attractive to boot. As far as thankfulness on the day of Thanksgiving, I was quite thankful that they brought me into the fold.

But back to dinner. Instead of having the traditional Thanksgiving fare, my friend threw me for a loop and said she was getting fish. Okay. Now I have to figure out what she's doing with the fish so I can plan my part accordingly. Well, that's what I was thinking to start with. In the end, I just decided that I would make another course. She had a fish course, so I went with a meat course. First course was her pan roasted salmon (with the most wonderfully crisp skin, and flesh lovingly basted with lots of butter, as I was originally taught at the Chez, but not how it's done at the Seasons) on a bed of chiffonade brussels and a nice vinaigrette. I put forth roasted duck breast, butternut squash risotto, cranberry ginger compote and some of the pan juices deglazed with Jack Daniels. For dessert, my friend made a pear tart with pecan frangipane and cinnamon whipped cream. It was all delicious, and even though we each consumed much less than a normal American would on Thanksgiving, we had to take breaks of at least an hour between each course.

That night, I hadn't planned on crashing out over there, but it just happened. It was fine. Everyone was out by ten... dead asleep. Me, I was in and out of consciousness from nine until ten thirty, then I was wide awake again. So, here I am. Wide awake in a house where everyone is asleep, and not to mention, my phone had no reception. I was up until around one o'clock, part of the time watching TV, and the other part, just sitting in the dark thinking. It was nice, though, being in a place where no one actually knew where I was (aside from my four cohorts). There was no phone for me, no internet... I know that if I were trapped in that status for more than 24 hours, I may go ape shit, but in this case, it was nice.

Anyhow, I didn't get home until this morning around nine or so. Yes, another early morning for me. I knew I had a lot to do, so I napped for about an hour and then headed into work crazy early. I had braising to do, butchering, blanching, knife work, sauce work, baking... the list goes on and on. To top it all off, I was slated to make staff meal. Well, it was supposed to be Papi and I, but Papi never does anything. At a quarter to four, I had to drop everything and get staff meal rolling. It was fried rice and some dumplings that I had made months ago that were in the freezer. Papi came around last minute and stir-fried some cauliflower and some green beans. Yeah. That's Asian. Fried rice is the ultimate one pot meal. Why on earth would you also put up a dish of poorly stir-fried veggies?

So, I was busy enough that I skipped break in order to make a backup of some sauce and to make sure that my braise came out of the oven on time. It was a long day. And now it's time for that day to end. Off to bed with me. I need some sleep. I know that there was more that I wanted to say in this post, and I know that I wanted to organize it a bit better, but this is the best you're getting out of me for now. Maybe something more intelligent tomorrow.

Day 190: New Infusion

Listening: I feel the time has come like a remedy. I feel the time has come. We're shaking the spear of love in the city.

What's my problem? I don't know all of the songs.

So, the last couple of days in the kitchen have gone much better. I'm back to thinking I can cook, thanks to some really well (meaning good not cooked through) cooked pieces of meat, some difficult but doable prep, and a chat with a friend.

Pies is acting somewhat easier over the past couple of days too. I don't know if he just got his period or if it's because his birthday is tomorrow, but he seems more chilled out, at least towards me. Then again, he was always chilled out to the other people in the kitchen. I still don't really trust him as far as I could throw him. I still have my eye on him. We'll see what happens over the next two weeks.

Thanksgiving plans have firmed up. It turns out that I'm cooking a non-traditional Thanksgiving meal with all of my friends that I don't work with. Heh heh heh. I think that there's gonna be some fish involved, some noodles... I'm thinking about searing off some duck breasts, making a cranberry ginger compote and maybe a little butternut squash risotto. I actually have to go to the grocery store tomorrow to pick up a few things that I'm going to want to use.

And in other news, I have swapped iPods with one of my friends here on the island. It's pretty cool getting to listen to what someone else is plugged into most of the time. I wish I had more time to listen to music, but it seems like I'm limited to the few hours after I wake up and before I go to work, and the few hours I'm awake after work. I've been delighted over the past fifteen minutes, I have heard both the Squirrel Nut Zippers as well as Blackalicious. Wonderful. There's a good mix of music that I am familiar with, as well as music that I have never heard before in my life.

Anyhow I'm going to bed now. I'll listen to the iPod for another half an hour as I read more of The Namesake before I head off to sleep. I'm sure it'll be quite a trip.

Day 187: Doubt

Listening: If it were up to me, we would fall in love again. It wouldn't have to end, if it were up to me.

What's my problem? I really could suck.

So I'm having one of those periods where either I am screwing up a lot or I feel like I'm screwing up a lot. The times are slow, and I should have everything absolutely perfect. But, man, I'm getting caught up on this and that. I'm not sure if it's all me, or if it's a combination of my own lack of focus coupled with the overactive eye that Pies has on me. I feel like I'm leaving here on somewhat of a bad note. I have two and a half weeks to clean up my game and be the cook I know I am.

That's a problem right now. All this has me feeling that I can't cook. I know that it's not true, but I just feel in certain moments that I have no business in the kitchen doing what I'm doing. For a moment, it makes me not want to be in the kitchen, with these people, or even in a kitchen at all.

I know it's a wrong thought. There's nothing I love more than cooking for people. I love the pressure of the line, the crunch of being in the weeds during prep, and the satisfaction of pushing a beautiful, delicious plate of food through the pass to the runner. I love feeding people. When I go through a bad stretch, it makes me doubt that. It's a rough jarring feeling in me.

I don't know what this is or what's going on, but I hope it's for my greater good. I hope that this is the dip I usually experience before I spike. By this, I mean that I hope that, like in my past, this is a moment of weakness and vulnerability that directly precedes me learning a whole lot and taking my game to the next level. It's happened before, and I hope that it's happening again. But, for now, I'm stuck in a bit of a rut.

Now that I've just mentally vomited all over the internet, I guess I should talk about other things....

It's cold here. It was cold up in Boston when I was up there for four days, but down here on the island, it feels even colder. I've been holed up in my apartment for the past couple of days, only leaving to go to work. I wished that I had brought my wool socks down from Boston when I came back. Lately my feet have felt like rocks. It doesn't help that there's a draft coming through the window next to the couch where I usually sit. Luckily, according to my widget, it should be getting a little bit warmer tomorrow and even warmer as the week goes on. Maybe if it gets warm enough and I actually have a reason to, I'll venture out into town.

This is a bit of an odd week. Usually, I have Tuesday and Wednesday off, as the restaurant is usually closed those days. This week, since it's Thanksgiving on Thursday, we're only closed on Thanksgiving. As far as what I'm doing for Thanksgiving, I have no clue. Jon-Jon invited the kitchen staff to his place for Thanksgiving, but, given my current slump, I really don't want to be around people that I work with. I very well just might go it alone. From what I hear, there will be a couple of place in town open for dinner. I could just stay in and have my own little movie marathon of the "Up Series." But really, I have no clue what I'm going to do. All I know is that I won't be cooking a turkey personally, as I have over the past couple of years. Thanksgiving is my second favorite holiday, but I guess I can go one year with a blah Thanksgiving. I think really what I'll be missing is making and eating turkey congee with the turkey carcass.

Anyhow I'm going to end this probably pretty depressing post in order to go to my bed and read what seems to be a pretty good book. Hopefully, my bed will be warmer than this couch. Man, I'd like a cup of coffee right now too....

Day 185: Back to Exile

Listening: The second that I feel your safe hands reaching out for mine, I slip away and out of sight. You've overstayed your time.

What's my problem? I miss my bed already.

Perhaps one of the most wonderful thing about these past few days was being in my own bed. I knew that the mattresses down here on the island sucked in the worst possible ways, but for the past four days, I realized just how wonderful my bed was. I slept more these past few days more than I ever should have. My time went something like this:

Open eyes. See that the time is nine o'clock. Close eyes. Decide my tasks can wait. Sleep. Open eyes. See that the time is half past ten. Close eyes. Pull blankets over head. Think about tasks. Decide tasks can wait. Sleep. Open eyes. See that the duvet is still over my head. Poke head out of duvet. See that the time is a little past noon. Sigh. Pull covers down past chest. Close eyes. Sigh. Get up and start the day. It was wonderful being nice and toasty warm. It was probably the simplest of pleasures.

There was room to sprawl out a bit (a double futon in Cambridge, as opposed to a single on the island), the warmth of the basement apartment, the warmth of my duvet, the six pillows... It all contributed to a wonderful few nights of sleep, sick or not.

Throughout the last few days, I turned the living room into what the Nantucket would equate with the "Take It Or Leave It." I pulled out boxes upon boxes. However, by the time I left this afternoon, it was almost as if I hadn't. There's a pile of crap under a table in the hallway, but other than that, there's no sign of the mess that had taken over.

I'm sure I could have gotten more done these past few days, but I was content just seeing my friends, shit shooting with my roomie, and hanging out in my bed. I had my fix of good ethnic food. I bought the new Dido CD (deluxe edition of course), put away a bunch of my clothes, and sorted out a bunch of old crap. I think that should all count for something. I come back to work fully rested, and almost over my ailment.

Also while I was off island, I got to see Nick & Norah's Infinite Playlist. It's a renter. I'm glad I saw it at the Somerville Theater, though. Only $7. It was a cute little movie, but it could have been so much better. The part played by Michael Cera could have been played by anyone. I was annoyed by the girl I should have been annoyed by. I was endeared to the girl I should have been endeared to, so I guess the movie was adequate in that matter. I just kind of wish that the love story had been escalated a bit more. I wish that the tension and that the stakes were higher. I knew it would be a little teen movie, but I was hoping that it would be a more adult teen movie. I felt like the "adult-ness" was pushed too hard.

On my way back to the island, I ran into three friends (aren't you proud of me? I now have more than two friends on the island. I have at least five.). It turned out that they had cruised up to Boston for the day and I didn't even know. They were also taking the last fast ferry back to the island.

These three girls are all very different. When I say different, I mean DIFFERENT. We have the Thai girl next door, the funny and bold Lithuanian, and the deadpan dry (and somehow still really funny) Korean. To be honest, I don't even really know if the Korean really likes me. It's hard for me to sort through her sense of humor. The other two seem to be quite friendly. There's a lot of networking going on between me and the Thai girl next door. She knows I'm going to southeast Asia and has a bunch of information to give me. She also has a cousin who wants to get into cooking who I may try to hook up with Chef for next season as a prep cook.

Anyhow, it's funny seeing them all together, even though in an ideal world, that's how it should be. Different people getting together and enjoying each other. It's nice. So, I chatted with them for the ride. They may be coming in to the restaurant sometime in the next few days. I look forward to it.

Speaking of the restaurant.... The reason I'm back on the island on Thursday night versus Friday early afternoon is because I'm going to have to be in the kitchen EARLY tomorrow morning. I have a ton of shit to do, as far as I can remember. Here's what my prep list for tomorrow looks like, just off the top of my head.

Brine/Marinate Pork Chops
Prep collard greens
Orzo
Cheese Sauce
Butcher buffalo
Potato galette
Trim Scallions
Trip & Braise beef cheeks
Champ Potatoes
Onion Ring dredge
Soak onion rings in buttermilk
Blanche spinach
Make cream reduction
Dice & blanche butternut squash
Season ricotta cheese

I feel like I'm buried. I guess I should get to sleep early, huh? I guess I should do that now, right? Okay. Off I go.

Day 184: Mementos... AKA I'm a Packrat.

Listening: And if you find, one day, find some freedom and relief, with this freedom maybe, maybe you will find some peace.

What's my problem? I keep too much crap.

Over the past few days I have been going through the boxes that I have in storage in an attempt to pare down my life. In the process, I have decided to let go of a number of things that include, but aren't limited to: two computer printers, one vintage 1996 Powermac, my soccer cleats, shin guards, & keeper gloves, a number of random stuffed toys, a circa 1985 VCR, a Zip drive (not to be confused with Zipcar, which is probably a zillion times more useful), a HUGE box of school supplies, a 900mHz cordless phone, cassettes of the Smashing Pumpkins "Siamese Dream" album and Moby's "Everything is Wrong" album, and a koosh ball. That's right. I said a koosh ball.

Among some of the more amusing finds (and things I kept) were a yearbook of the kids I counseled for their sixth grade camp, a letter from one of my best friends throughout high school telling me about the guy who she was dating, who she eventually married, and who now has a kid with, a letter from a girl dumping me on my birthday during my senior year of college, letters from the first girl I ever kissed, a million 2.5" floppy disks (some of which contain some of the stories I wrote in high school and college), copies of mix tapes I made for people (I was the king of the mix tape), photos of me when I was 4, 6, 12, 16, & 18, my senior year high school yearbook, a couple of my radio show playlists, and a citation from campus police for having an illegal party on campus.

It's been a tough few days mulling through all of this crap. I mean crap in the best possible way. I am a bit of a sentimentalist. I wish I wasn't. It would mean that I could throw away so much more crap. But I keep things that remind me of different things. I found glowsticks from one of the many times I saw DJ Icey, and some from when I went to the Area 2 tour and saw a crapload of DJs. All of those glowsticks, by the way, went into the trash. It's tough to prioritize your memories. I guess every so often, you have to do it. Dredge it all up and then re-prioritize them.

It was fun though, sending my friend from high school an e-mail about the letter I found about her and her would be husband, and a picture I e-mailed to the guy who was my best friend when I was 11 and just got back in touch with this summer. Fun little surprises. I wonder if someday, someone else is going to be digging through a box, will find a little piece of me and will call or e-mail me and will say, "Do you remember this? This was great."

Day 182: Home Sweet Home

Listening: Talking 'bout a sweet memory. It goes 'round and 'round in my head. Pretty soon I’ll want the real thing instead, but for now I got this sweet memory.

What's my problem? I own too much crap.

It's nice. Being on my own futon, in my own sheets, under my own comforter, in my own room, with my own stuff, in my own city. It's a beautiful thing to be warm and comfortable in my own corner of the apartment listening to Melody Gardot late at night warm and content. I'm a lucky man here for four days off with all of my island worries far behind me.

I was welcomed home with hugs by my beloved roomie, Linh, and promptly lost three and a half hours of my life shooting the shit with her. That's how life should be. It's a beautiful thing to be able to connect with people like that upon impact. Beautiful. It's not to say that I'm not connecting with people on the island. The thing is, it's only happened recently. Coffee dates with Gabi and random happenings upon Katherine have me optimistic that I may end up leaving the island with a couple of things that resemble actual friendships or more than ephemeral relationships. Connections. People I can say, "Hey, I think I would like to be around them in my time outside of work" about. Dare I say, people whose thoughts aren't limited to, "Food, cook, clean, drink, drink, nothingness, me, me, me." Or maybe I should say people who only show me that.

I have a few projects that I want to accomplish while I'm here in Boston. The list goes as follows, in no particular order:

1) Sort through clutter and throw away/donate/ebay as much as possible.
2) Put my room back in order. Hang up and put away all clothes that were stowed for the summer.
3) Schedule appointment with a travel immunologist.
4) Talk to a travel agent about the logistics and advantages/disadvantages to Asia passes.
5) Cook for roomies/friends.
6) Look at kitchen scales for mother.
7) Take care of random paperwork.
8) Buy ma cha powder for friend.
9) Hustle for part time work in January
10) I think the first 9 are enough.

So I think that's how the next four days are shaping up. The first day was great. Got home, caught up with the roomies, had dinner at the Chez, caught up with everyone there, came home and rested. Wonderful. Tomorrow, knock some stuff off that list and make a big pot of beef stew for my palz. Life is good when you have four days off in a row.

Day 180: Paranoia!

Listening: I'm sittin' at a coffee table unable to see straight, watchin' parallel lines unwind and undulate behind the rain-soaked window pane the scene's bleak. Another train leaving home, conceding defeat with a low moan.

What's my problem? I wonder if I suck sometimes.

So, I've been noticing something for a couple of weeks now. Pies, the sous, has become a bit distant from me. He doesn't say anything to me in the kitchen other than to criticize me, my mise, or something I'm doing. Sometimes he'll just start sticking his fingers in my mise looking for something wrong. Today he just started "fixing" something I cooked today that I had cooling in the walk in. It was kind of fucked up. He didn't say anything to me beforehand. He just went to town on it. I would have understood if he had brought it over to me and said, "I think there's too much vinegar in this." But he didn't.

So that's what's eating at me right now. I'm wondering if the slower pace of the nights and the fact that we're not going through our product as quick has made me sloppy. I'm wondering if he's right and I'm wrong. It's completely possible.

It's funny though. We were buddy-buddy for a while, but all of that seems to have dropped off. I'm wondering if I'm the bad guy of the kitchen now. I'm wondering if he's a bit threatened by some of the stuff I have been doing in the kitchen these days with the charcuterie and pates. I really don't know what it is.

If Pies does, in fact, have it out for me, it'll make it a bit harder for me to come back. I don't really want to work with/for someone who doesn't have my back. But, yeah, I get the feeling that Pies has a problem with me as of late.

It's a big question. Am I being paranoid or am I not? If I am, then I suck and I have to clean up my game and Pies is just being Pies. If I am not being paranoid, then Pies has it out for me and it's going to be an unpleasant three more weeks of working on Nantucket, and if I work on Nantucket next season, it'll be at another restaurant. Which is the better option? I don't know.

Day 177: What To Do? What To Do?

Listening: I'm gonna have to run away. I'm sure that I belong some other place. I've seen another side of all I've seen.

What's my problem? I need to formulate a way to not spend money.

So I was thinking about the time before I head down to Atlanta and before I head out to southeast Asia. I thought to myself that I need to find a way not to spend any money. I need to have my net income/expenditures be $0. In accounting terms, I need my debits and credits to cancel each other out.

So, here's what I was thinking. If I can't get some freelance work from the Chez or the Dizzle, or any of my various friends in the industry, I'll pimp out my services to my friends and my friends of friends. Here's how it'll be. I'll go out and buy the groceries. If it's a long cooking braised dish, I'll prep and cook everything at home. Either they will come and pick me up or I'll cab over to their place and I'll finish the meal for them. In return, they will pay for the groceries and pay for my travel to and from their house (if they pick me up, they don't have to worry about it). If they choose to tip me, that's their business (though, as you would guess it would be heartily welcomed).

Think about it. It'll be deep winter time. It'll be cold. People will want hearty warm food, which means braised meat, stews, soups. A lot of that kind of food takes time. It takes time to make a good stock. It takes time to braise a piece of meat. They'll be taking advantage of the fact that I have nothing better to do other than sit at home and wait for a braise to be finished.

So, if you're interested, or know someone who might be interested, let me know. We'll see what I can work out for you.

Day 176: Where's Charlotte?

Listening: I need a drink. Don't want to think. I drink too much, but who's to say what's right or wrong?

What's my problem? It's too cold, too slow, too low on time, and a little lower than I want on cash.

Well, it's the first "weekend" in the past three weeks that I haven't left the island to go back to Boston. It just didn't make sense this "weekend." See, I'm off for five days starting on Sunday. So I just worked five days, I have today and tomorrow off, and then I work for three more days before I have five days off. What I'm going to do for those five days off, I have no idea. Hopefully, I'll be able to get an appointment with a travel immunologist for one of those days.

Speaking of that, I have no clue what kind of immunizations I'm going to need to go to southeast Asia. I'm hoping they're just gonna be like, "Well, you should take these pills with you in case you get the shits, but other than that, you're fine." I think I should also book an appointment with my doctor for when I get back from my adventure. I figure that if I'm eating everything under the sun while I'm in southeast Asia, I should make sure I don't have a little friend living in my stomach when I get back. My friend Jill had a little friend for a while after she got back from a trip. I want to do my best not to have to starve myself and then inhale the fumes of rotting meat in order to coax a tapeworm out of my belly. Actually, if it does come to that I hope I can keep it in a jar.

On the whole travel front, I have been gotten a new influx of information and resources. I have reconnected with an old friend of mine who just took a trip to southeast Asia, and my parents met a chef who has traveled and has taken cooking courses all over southeast Asia. I have to say that it's really nice to have these new potential sources of information. I have gotten a bit overwhelmed with the information on the internet and with reading my Lonely Planet books. The amount of information is just so... not easy to digest. I've been having a hard time trying to figure out my routes and how long to spend in each place. I have a feeling, though, that I'll just pick an insertion point, book a secure hotel for my first three or four nights, and then just wing it. I'll have a rough itinerary, like I did for my Europe trip, but I think I'll try to keep it much more flexible.

Plans have also been finalized for the holidays. I have mixed feelings about the whole deal though. Originally, I was supposed to meet up with my family at Disney from December 29th until Jan 4th. That would leave me 11 potential days in December to make money or to try to get freelance work, and 27 days in January. But now, I'm going down to Atlanta from December 24th and will be coming back on January 7th. That means that I'm losing five days in December and three days in January. With that little of time, I think that it will be even harder to secure freelance work.

The bonus to going to see the fam for that extended period of time is that I won't be spending as much money as if I were at home in Boston going out all of the time. I instead, I'll be bored to tears at their place in the cultural wasteland of materialistic consumerism that is the suburbs. I wanted to bring my knives down, but that means $15 each way for checked baggage. BASTARDS! Instead, I'll have to deal with their crappy Western knives. I really think that the only thing that I'll be able to do at their house is hang out on the internet (what else is new) and cook. We'll see what happens though. I have a feeling I'll end up driving up their grocery bills.

In other news, I'm missing a friend of mine. I first met her about two months ago or so. She was a HUUUUUUUGE spider on the railing on the way up to my apartment. She was beautiful. Brown and tan. I kind of wish I had a picture of her. She spun this really big web. On the days where it would be foggy or misty, droplets of water would form on the web, and there she was, just chillin' in the middle. During windy times (not to be confused with Wendy Time for you Cure fanatics), the web would be destroyed and I wouldn't see her for a few days. But, all of a sudden, the web would be back and she would be chillin' there in the middle again. After a while, I saw another spider just like her near the door to my apartment. I was psyched. Maybe I would have two websters hanging around. That spider I only saw that one day. A few days later, my spider was gone. The web had blown out and my spider was nowhere to be found. It's been over a week now and I haven't seen the spider. I hope she comes back. I fear it may be too cold and windy for her now, but I miss seeing her just chillin' in the middle of the web.

Tonight, I think I'm going to see Nick & Norah's Inifinite Playlist over at the one theater in town. That should take up a big chunk of the evening, and then I'll continue working on my travel plans.

I'm currently trying to decide on what digital camera to buy. My current one is kind of outdated. It's only 3.2 megapixel with 3X Optical zoom. I kind of want something that will have more optical zoom capabilities. I also don't feel like my current camera is very dependable. I have had two digital cameras in my life. Both were hand-me-downs from friends who had upgraded. I think it's high time that I buy my own and get caught up with the times. So right now, here are the ones I'm thinking about:


Nikon S560 Coolpix


Canon SD890 Powershot Digital Elph


Olympus Stylus 1030 SW

Any opinions?

Day 156: Well-Rounded, Well-Rested, & Well...

Listening: I'm pulling through and it's because of you. I'd do the same for you if your turn came. Hope it never will. For I've been through the mill. I won't get this debt. I'm pulling through.


What's my problem? There's no one. There's nothing. There's me.

Well, it's been a while since I posted. Sorry about that. I've been rather self-absorbed lately. A lot of stuff has happened.

Chef took the kitchen on a fishing trip as a thank you for not quitting. Everyone except for the pastry chef and I caught at least one fish. I may not have caught anything, but I had a hell of a cast. It was a lot of fun. Maybe if I go out again sometime, I'll catch something. It was kind of fuct that I was the only line guy who didn't catch anything. Such is life, right?

I also had a mild melt down. I was sick of the people that I see every day and spend at least eight or ten hours a day with. People were annoying the hell out of me. I was about to punch a couple people, but instead, I withdrew into myself. I was sick of working with them, day in and day out. I was sick of hearing their voices day in and day out, and I was sick of drinking with them day in and day out. I was a lot sick of the sport drinking that was going on. There was a period of a couple of days where I didn't really talk to anyone. I only spoke when spoken to. I answered questions in very short answers. I also think that a lot of it had to do with the repetitiveness of everything that was happening around me.

When Jo-jo skinned out, I ended up taking over the hot apps station full time. This meant that I worked hot apps six days a week, whereas before, I worked two days each on hot apps, saute, and the middle/expediting stations. I got sick of just scallops and octopi. I craved change. I craved differences in my days, because my nights were all the same. After work, drinking out behind the kitchen, drinking at a bar (someone inevitably bought shots or Irish car bombs), or I would go to my room and watch TV on my computer. It was a boring existence.

Even when I was out I didn't meet anyone new. I never socialized with the front of the house people. There wasn't anywhere loungey to just calmly have a drink. There wasn't really any variation in conversation. I wasn't learning anything new about the kitchen crew. It didn't help that some of them went completely overboard. Some of the guys I work with become complete asses when they drink (sometimes they're even asses when they're sober). I was just so over it.

So I withdrew. I didn't go out. I didn't talk to anyone. And because of that, I didn't really blog either. I just, literally, went in, did my job, came back upstairs, sat on my bed and vegged out while watching TV on my laptop. There were two people who still knew how to get me to talk. One was a runner, Gabi, and the other was a server, Brooke. Both of them saw the look of despair in my eyes, the sheer desperation to get off of the island. They knew it. Gabi just kind of tried to entertain me during service. Brooke was insistent that I get off the island ASAP. Both of them were tuned in, and I appreciated that.

After a while, it all wore off and I was back to normal. I figured that since I was a bit of a douche to my co-workers, I should make up for it. So, I decided to switch it up on them. Usually after work, we have one shift drink, any beer, wine by the glass, or well drink, and then we have a case of Rolling Rock beer that we, as the kitchen, split. There are usually six of us in the kitchen, and a couple of us don't really drink, so you can do the math on how much beer is consumed by those that do. Back in Boston, I started "40s Sundays." On Sunday, we would rotate buying 40s for the entire kitchen. It was a lot of fun. So I, as a "I'm sorry" bought 40s for the kitchen. It seemed to go over pretty nicely. It was something different and I liked it.

Since then, we've lost two people. Brit had to go back to school just before Columbus Day, and Lindsay had to get back to Canada less than a week later. Now, Christian/Pablo works garde manager, and I have completed my round of the hot line by taking over the grill station. Chef is now working the hot apps station and there is no man expediting to servers in front of the line.

In addition to learning the grill station, I have been playing with food again. I have successfully made Shanghai style soup dumplings (xiu long bao), which we offered as a hot app special. They sold like hotcakes. I have made another dumpling which we will be running any day now. And I have brought some stuff from my last trip to Boston like tofu skin and some preserved vegetables that I plan on using in the near future. I actually have some tofu skin rehydrating right now that I plan to wrap around ground duck. Hopefully it'll all work out and I'll be putting more specials on the menu.

So, since we have lost two more people in the kitchen, we now are closed two days a week, Tuesdays and Wednesdays. It gives me a little more opportunity to get back to Boston. I was there last "weekend" and I plan on going back the next two "weekends," once to help a friend go back to Bratislava, and the other time to vote for Barack Obama.

In other news, Pies has skinned out of going to southeast Asia. He went over to Hyannis and got sick from some food, so his rationale is "If I can't even go to Hyannis without food messing up my stomach, how could I possibly cope with southeast Asian food?" Personally, I think that it was just a cop out. Whatever, though. It frees me up to really do whatever I want. If I'm not meeting up with people, then I can set my own itinerary. I can either pick Bangkok or Singapore as my insertion point. If I want to go to the full moon rave on February 10th or March 10th, it's up to me, or I don't have to go at all.

Today I read this article and think I might want to try it. I have always been interested in martial arts and combat sports. I even checked out the website for Fairtex. In the States, I could go to San Francisco to do the training, but it would cost so much more. I could train for a week, get a week's accommodations at the training center, get one on one training, and two meals a day for as low as 7,700 Baht ($222.03) to share a room with no air conditioning, or get a private room with no air conditioning for 13,300 Baht ($383.51). To pay for a personal trainer for 5 hours a day for 7 days in a regular gym, let alone a fighting gym, would cost probably at least that, and it wouldn't even include room and board. To be honest, it sounds like a lot of torture and hard work, but it sounds like fun too. I really think I'm going to do it.

I've also been obsessed with the ukulele, ever since a friend of mine posted this Youtube video on her Livejournal.



I think that the song is so clever, and in addition to that, there are other ukulele players posting all sorts of covers of songs on youtube. It really makes me want to go out and get a ukulele. It only has four strings. I can't be too much harder than the violin that I played as a kid. So, yeah, now I want a ukulele.

Anyhow, I'm tired. I think it's time for me to turn in for the night. I'll leave you with some pictures though.


Brit and her fish.


Lindsay and one of her fish.


Papi and one of his fish.


Me and Pies on scooters when Anh Dao came to visit.


40s Night. Forget Colt 45. O.E. works every time.


Me, Sandy, Rob, Pablo, Byron and Croomie before the staff party last night.


Papi, Katarina and I at the staff party.


Sandy and Rob at the staff party.

Day 112: Sometimes I Don't Want To Talk To Cooks

Listening: I think I'll go to Boston. I think that I'm just tired. I think I need a new town to leave this all behind. I think I need a sunrise. I'm tired of the sunset.

What's my problem? It's been months and I still don't know anyone.

I was supposed to have today off. Instead of going to the beach, or taking a ride out to Madaket, I worked. Brit's sister has been in town for the last four days and goes home tomorrow. Brit's had a rough go of things, with this being her first time away from home. She's got a "friend" from home who works on the island, but from the stories that Brit has told me, she's not much of a friend. She's one of those friends who is a total user. I can't even begin to tell the stories that she has told me about her friend. I told her what one of my ex-girlfriends once told me: "Friends are the family you choose for yourself." It's the one true thing that I got out of that relationship. It's so true that from that point on, I tried my hardest to make sure I have the right friends, and make sure that I am as good to them as I can be, so that maybe they'll be as good to me as they can be. I gave up my day off to Brit so that she could spend more than one whole day with her sister. Chef said that there weren't many people who would do that. I told him that sometimes people need things more than you do and if it's no real skin off your nose, why not give it to them.

To be honest, I don't know what I would do with an extra day off. Chances are, I would hang out by myself and do nothing of consequence, hang out with no one of consequence, and just waste a day. Maybe I would start working off that trade debt that I have with the owner of the Centerboard Inn, but I don't even know if I'd do that.

Part of my problem is that even after four months on the island, I still don't know anyone. I know cooks. I know cooks from my restaurant. I know cooks from Straight Wharf. I know a couple of other random cooks. Sometimes I just don't want to talk to cooks. I want to talk to artists. I want to talk to computer programmers. I want to talk to environmentalists. I want to talk to people who will connect with me on a different level.

I've tried getting to know the front of the house crew, and I've gotten to know a couple of the guys pretty well, but I still haven't found any profound connection. I've tried to get some of the girls from the front of the house to hang out, but it never really happens in anything more than a group setting. It's a strange thing for me to not feel really connected to anyone within a fifty mile radius. I've got no one to go to for any sort of social comfort.

Yeah.... I made one friend out here. She was a nanny for a rich family. She went back to school a few weeks ago. Other than that I'm not meeting too many people. I'm usually good at making friends, but I don't seem to be doing a good job here on Nantucket. Maybe I just need to break the island in a bit this year and then maybe next year I'll be the toast of the town. Or maybe I'll just work my ass off again.

I have to say that it would be nice to have someone completely unrelated to my business to hang out with. I guess for now, I'll just have to either hang out with cooks or be by myself. I figure that in December, when I get back to Boston for more than two days at a time, I'll reconnect with my people.

Day 110: Please Don't Finger Midgets' Genetals In The Bar

Listening: Hang your collar up inside. Hang your dollar on me. Listen to the water still. Listen to the causeway. You are mad and educated, primitive and wild. Welcome to the occupation.

What's my problem? Not doing as many rounds lately.

There are a lot of stories to tell and not so much time to tell them in. It's the excuse I'm giving for not blogging in a while. As far as work goes, I continue to work six days a week. The shit part is that since Jo-jo left, I'm working hot apps a whole lot more. I have to say that it's my least favorite station. I like being prepared for what I have to cook. I like looking down the line and seeing what I have coming. On hot apps, you get hit right away.

Tonight we had a 24 person party. About twenty of them ordered apps off my station. In addition, I had a couple of deuces order off my station for apps at the same time. Furthermore, as I was in the process of cooking the apps, some tables had ordered apps as entrees, so I got royally fucked. It's hard putting up twenty eight dishes on your own in one fell swoop. I had to break it up into smaller twelve and sixteen dish pickups. It sucked though. The funny thing was that we were dead the whole rest of the night. It was like one big tidal wave that I got the worst of. To make it even worse, I got made fun of for being pissy about it.

But that was just today. Lately I've had my hands on a bunch of specials. For the latest pig tail preparation, I created the Asian slaw that went down as the salad portion of the dish. One night, I put on a special of my own. I knew that if I didn't speak up, I wouldn't have any special to sell that night. I knew that the night would be slow too. So I asked Chef to throw me a bone and let me work a special. He said that we had a lot of shitake mushrooms and a chanterelle mushroom sauce that we had left over from another special, and that I could make a special from that. I ended up making what we called in the kitchen "shitake-o's" I took two shitake mushrooms, filled them with herbed goat cheese, tempura fried them, and served them on top of the chanterelle sauce with a salad of watercress, pickled red onion and orange and drizzled a orange sherry reduction over the top. I have to say that it was a tasty little dish.

Aside from work there have been some interesting things that have happened. A couple of Fridays ago, the lot of us from the kitchen, myself, Brit, Pies, Lindsay, and Pablo, along with Sandy, went out to Cap'n Toby's for drinks after work to celebrate Pablo's birthday. We were all having a grand ol' time, when Pies decided that we all need to stop cheers-ing like pansies with little clinks. Instead we needed to cheers with gusto. We needed to clink so hard that beer would fly everywhere from our three quarters of the way full pint glasses of beer. This was all fine and dandy until I was cheersed so hard that my glass broke in my hand and gave me a small cut just above my thumb on the back of my hand. Beer went everywhere, including all over me.

Probably the most fucked up thing that I have ever seen happened at the bar that night as well. As we're all standing there drinking, in walks in a midget. Well, she might have been a dwarf, but she was a little person nonetheless. She was very proportional though. She didn't have the... different proportions that some other little people have. She wore a tiny white dress, and walked up to the bar, climbed up a barstool and kneeled on it as she drank.

I know that you think that a little person kneeling on a bar stool with her ass in the air is pretty crazy and fucked up, but it gets a bit worse. So this girl was with a couple of friends, but it just so happened that her friends were all over the place, flitting here and there while she was just there on the bar stool. Next to her was a man in his late forties or early fifties who wore a crazy loud shirt and khaki pants. They start chatting and his hands start roaming. His hands are all over the place and she's just sort of going with it. At one point, I see one of his hands go up this girl's skirt, between her legs from behind. The entire group of us were watching like it was a train wreck. Here's a pic that Pies took when he stole my camera:



You can see the sketchy dude to the left of the girl. Amazingly enough we didn't get pics of the actual deed, but it was both graphic and disturbing.

In other news, we all had Wednesday off. So, Pies, Lindsay, Brit and I headed to the beach. It started off as being pretty overcast, but before we knew it, it was sunny and warm. Pies, Lindsay and I frolicked in the water, while Brit, a not so great swimmer, stayed on the beach. This was the type of beach day that I have been looking for all summer long. I was with people who would stay and watch the stuff while I went into the water. There were beers consumed and fun was had. At one point, Pies and Lindsay started drawing all over Brit in Sharpie marker.

Later on that night, we all went out for dinner. We were all exhausted though. Originally, I was supposed to call this Slovak chick that I work with so that we could go grab a drink, but all of the time in the sun and the long bike ride too and from the beach got the better of me. I ended up texting her to tell her I was zonked. Hopefully we'll go out sometime before she leaves at the end of October.

Anyhow, I'm tired. It's time to go to sleep so I can be bright eyed and bushy tailed for prep tomorrow. I'll leave you with some pics though!


Lindsay, Pablo & Brit at Cap'n Toby's


Lindsay, Brit, Pies, Sandy & Pablo


Lindsay and Brit check each other for breast cancer


A view of Downtown Nantucket from a widow's walk


Me at the beach


Brit being tatted


Pies adding ass hair to Brit


Brit's tramp stamp


The waves at Bartlett Farm Beach


Oh yeah, I just wanted to let you all know that we all went on a Mediterranean Vacation as well.

Day 96: Girls, Girls, Girls, Girls....

Listening: I love girls, girls, girls, girls, girls all over the globe.

What's my problem? Girls make my heart explode.

I've almost hit my 100th day on the island. As it stands now, what I expected when I came down here is completely opposite of what I was expecting. I was expecting a full work crew and alternating one day and two day off weeks. I was expecting a slightly more wild atmosphere. And I was expecting to get more reading done. None of this has really happened.

Instead, I'm working six days a week, a different station almost every day. The crew has come and gone unexpectedly, leaving us short staffed for the majority of the summer. I've spent time on the beach about six days this summer, and I really haven't met too many people other than my co-workers. Even then, none of us have the same days off, at least not until the middle of September, so we don't spend any free time together.

It's probably a good thing that we're not all off together most of the time. It means that I don't spend money doing stuff with them. Instead, I hang out by myself and spend minimal cash.

The news, the news, the news.... The shitty and the great news all in one mouthful is that Jo-jo is gone. He went back to school to "check in" to his room and to get an extension of his internship so that he could work through Labor Day. I was an arrangement that he had with Chef before he was even given the internship. When Jo-jo went back, he called on the morning that he was supposed to be back at work saying that his school wouldn't let him come back. This, we all know, was bullshit. We have another guy from his school working for us and he said that all Jo-jo needed to do was call up the school and let them know. He didn't even need to go back.

Jo-jo is a bag-a-douche. Everyone knows that now, and the world is a very small place. Your rights and wrongs follow you around like a cloud. There's always someone who knows someone who knows someone in this industry. References are big. I know that if someone in Boston asks me if I worked with him in Nantucket, I'll tell them that I did and I'll tell them what kind of guy that he was. It's the same thing with the girl from Chez that stole my ipod and headphones. Reputations are important. Why not build a good one?

On the brighter side of things, my wonderful roomie, Iria, came down to visit me from Monday through Wednesday. She got in on Monday afternoon, and was out and about while I worked, and passed out shortly after I got off work. Tuesday morning, we got up, puttered around a bit and then got breakfast at the Even Keel Cafe. I have to say that breakfast was okay. It was nice to see Merrill, a girl who I met working at the Nantucket Film Festival. But, as far as the food went, it was nothing to write home about. I had some French toast, and Iria had some blueberry pancakes.

After breakfast, which actually turned out to be more like brunch, we changed and headed out to Jetties Beach to rent a tandem kayak. Iria had never been kayaking before and, I could tell, she couldn't quite figure out an efficient paddling motion. I spent a lot of my time trying to steer. I can only imagine what would have happened had we rented two individual kayaks. There was quite a bit of splashing around involved, but we really couldn't go anywhere too far. We were restricted by the channel on one side, the jetties on another side and the harbor on the other side. It was fun though.

Iria didn't realize just how wet she would be getting in the kayak, so afterwards, we hung out on Jetties Beach waiting for her shorts to dry. It was a beautiful day, and the sun was out. There was a nice breeze and an amusing little boy playing near us. We spent a good couple of hours soaking in the sun and chatting about everything from her time in Boston to her upcoming move back to Germany.

Once Iria's shorts were dry, we headed back to the compound to pick up a Cisco Brewery growler that I had. The original plan was to bike to Bartlett Farms to pick up a snack, go to the Cisco Brewery to pick up beer, and then head to Cisco Beach to have a mid afternoon picnic. As we rode to the Farm and Cisco, the sky got a bit overcast and it became a bit chilly. So, we just ended up staying at the brewery to do a couple of tasting, drink a few pints, and pick up a growler to bring back to the kitchen crew. By the time we left the brewery, it was almost sunset, so we decided to head down to the beach to see if we catch the sunset, and we did. I have to say that it was a spectacular sunset.

It was a long chilly bike ride home. Neither of us were dressed for the drop in temperature that came with the lack of direct sunlight.

After a shower and a change, we headed downstairs to have dinner. It's only the second dinner that I've eaten at my current place of employment, which is the lowest of all of the restaurant that I have worked at. I can't even count the number of times that I have eaten at the Chez. I ate at least four times at the Dizzle and three times at CK. As Pies said just a couple of days later, the food tastes so much better out in the dining room. Everything just tastes so much better. Jon-jon was our server, and I got a chance to see the smiling faces that make up the cast of characters that I usually see by fluorescent light, not candle light. It makes a difference, you know.

Iria had the avocado and cucumber soup special and the salmon for her entree. I had the foie gras tasting (how could I not) and the lamb loin special. As a cook, we taste a lot of components to a dish. We make sure that everything tastes good on its own. We can imagine what these things taste like together, but we rarely get a chance to have a taste of the fully composed dish. So, when we do get to eat a complete dish coming from the kitchen that we work in, it's quite a treat. I have to say that I had a fantastic dinner that really stuffed me to the gills. Iria and I ordered a dessert to share, but we could barely make a dent in it.

It made me happy to see Iria clean her plate. She seemed to love everything that she had that night, which in addition to her soup, salmon, and dessert, included a scallop dish and a cheese plate that Chef sent out to us.

That night, as much as I wanted to go out on the town, I was beat. I had four hours of sleep the two nights before, so I was ready for sleep. So, we stayed in and watched a movie before taking a two hour nap before sunrise.

That's right. We got up before sunrise and headed out to Brant Point to see the sunrise over the boats bobbing in the waves. It was great watching Iria watch the sunrise and sunset. There was just something wonderful about it, as if she were taking advantage of every single sunrise and sunset, as to make the most out of her time on earth. Watching her made me want to make the most of my time on earth too. It's tough, though, when you're a night person in a daytime world. Maybe I'll try to see some more sunrises and sunsets on my days off. Maybe I'll try to have the smile and the sparkle in my eyes like she seems to have. You know, that sparkle of life.

After another short nap, we went to Fog Island for breakfast before she headed back onto the ferry. Surprisingly, I knew one of the servers. She works at my restaurant too. I didn't even know that she worked there. Crazy! Anyhow, Iria and I had a nice breakfast and then it was time for her to leave. It was sad knowing that it would be a long while before I see her again. It won't be a forever thing, but it will be measured in the degrees of months, if not years. But, I do know that in the year that she has lived in Boston, she has become one of my good and trusted friends.

A couple of days after Iria got on the boat, I received an e-mail from Linh, just before I went to work. Her e-mail made a bit of emotion well up in me and made my heart heart a little. She wrote:

Tonight was my last night out with Iria. It only just hit me that she's *really* leaving, and I'm pretty bummed out. Totally irreplaceable. I'll miss her a lot....

I thought of you at dinner and wished you could be there. Iria did, too. We agreed it hasn't been quite the same since you've been away.

I always knew that I missed my room mates. I love them both to pieces. But, for the first time since I've been down here, my heart physically hurt as I missed them and the rest of my good friends in Boston. Brit has been going through a bit of homesickness, because she feels that she can't really depend on anyone down here, and for the first time since I got here, I could really feel what I think she's feeling. At the same time I know that it's a necessary evil for me to be down here. It's making me, not only, a stronger cook, but a stronger person who is more ready to move around the world and take it for my own. It doesn't mean that I miss or love my girls any less.

In a related note, I was thinking today. I work with so many amazing women that it's mind boggling. Sometimes I wonder how any of them are single. They're all beautiful, smart, funny, and charming/charismatic. A number of them are in their late thirties, and I wish I could hook them up with some of my single guy friends from Boston. Some I just want to take home myself, but the likelihood of that seems rather slim. But man, how lucky can I guy like me be to work around such beauty, grace, humor and intelligence. I'm such a lucky guy, even if none of them come home with me. I'm "blessed" by so many great women in my life from Holly, a friend from high school, to Jess, a friend from college, to Linh, a friend from my depression years and my transition years, to Sam, my friend in my happy years. I have such great women stick with me through my life. It makes my heart want to explode.

And now it is late. I'll leave you with some pics from Iria's visit.


Iria and I at the Cisco Brewery


A pint that's made from corn!


Iria during sunset at Cisco


Cisco surfers catching a wave at sunset


The sun beginning to rise at Brant Point


Iria on the beach at sunrise


Sunrise on the fishing boat bobbing sea


The first yacht out in the morning


Iria and the lighthouse


Iria and and I in the breezy morning

Day 91: Cannonball!

Listening: Don't let your life wrap up around you. Don't forget to call, whenever. I'll be here just waiting for you. I'll be under your stars forever, neither here nor there, just right beside you.

What's my problem? Waterlogged flounder.

So I have been slacking a bit on the updating. Well, it's because I've been working my arse off as usual. Things in the kitchen have been relatively okay. Lindsay is a rockstar. She, I can tell, is a much better cook than me right now. I also think that she has been in the business quite a bit longer than me, so I don't feel so bad. Papi, on the other hand, I am finding out is a shit cook.

Man, I don't know why that guy's a cook. Sure he went to the Culinary Institute of America, but that, I am finding out, doesn't mean shit. He's a dirty cook. I don't mean that people will get sick from eating his food. I mean that his mise en place, or station, is constantly in disarray. He doesn't clean his cutting board very often. Pots and pans are everywhere on his stove top. Second, he comes in late all of the time. He's the last one into the kitchen in the "morning," and the first to leave the kitchen for break. The other day, we put up staff meal at a quarter to five. I still had some things that I wanted to do, so I was still setting up my mise en place. Everyone else was peeling potatoes and onions. Even Chef was helping with the peelings. Papi, he takes his meal and leaves without saying a word. Bag-o-douche.

Tonight, we had a lamb special on the menu. As I have experienced on the nights that I have been working the middle/plating/expediting station, Papi is slow on his pickups. He's the last one to put the protein on the plates. Half of the time, I have to grab his sides or sauces and put everything on the plate. See, the saute plates are really quite simple. There isn't a lot of fancy sauce work., not like with the steak plate setup or the shrimp dish setup from the grill station. It's the veg in the middle of the plate, the sauce around the veg, the protein on top, and a garnish on top before Chef puts the finishing touches on. But still, the guy can't get the food to the plate. When I'm working saute, because of the location of the ticket rack, I plate up 90% of my food and am already working on the next pickup as I'm plating the current pickup. Anyhow, Pies knew that he would be slow on the pickup anyways, but Chef wanted the lamb to come off of the grill. Papi was blowing the lamb away. He overcooked a number of lambs. It was totally fucked. And then, as he was pulling his salmon out of the broiler with a not entirely dry towel, he felt the heat in his fingers and dropped his sizzle plate right onto my two orders of flounder. Did I happen to mention that I only had four orders of flounder left? Oh, man did it burn my ass, and Pies almost lost it as he was working the middle/plating/expediting station. I don't blame him.

Anyways, in other news, another annoyance in the kitchen lately is the flounder. See, we used to get this locally fished flounder. It was beautiful stuff. It was firm, browned up well, and was kind of impossible to blow away. Last week, the quota was filled, meaning that the local flounder fishing for the season is over. In fact the quota was overfished by at least a hundred thousand pounds. So now we're getting flounder for somewhere else, and it sucks. When it gets to us, it's all waterlogged. The fish is soft and easily falls apart. Sometimes, even when I'm trying to delicately turn the fish, it breaks. Sometimes when it's browning in the pan, it sticks and falls to pieces. It's just a shitty product. For the past week or so, I have hated putting it on the plate. I feel like I'm doing a disservice to the guests by putting it on the plate. Luckily, Chef has finally decided to switch the protein. I think tomorrow, we're switching to striped bass until that season is over. I can't begin to tell you how much happier I am with it.

On the fun side of life, last night we were done with service early, so a bunch of us went out on the town. We started at Cambridge Street, and ended up at Soupy's ice cream place on Straight Wharf. A lot of us were trashed. One of the servers from my restaurant was so trashed that she decided that she wanted food. She went back to the kitchen of Cambridge Street and rooted around until she found some ice cream. She proceeded to eat ice cream straight out of the carton. It was partially really amusing, and partially horrifying. After we all raided Soupy's ice cream shop, people started jumping off of the roof of the shop into the ocean water below. It was a lot of fun until the cops came. Unfortunately, I didn't get to do it. But I will be doing it by the end of the summer.

Tomorrow is my day off. My roomie from Boston, Iria, is down here for a couple of days. Tomorrow, I'm planning on taking her to Cisco brewery and then to Cisco beach. It should be a good time.

And one final thought before I throw some pictures at you.... China's beach volleyball player Xue Chen is HOT. Hope she wins the bronze.


Our sommelier with a fake mustache.


The crew raiding Soupy's ice cream shop.


Lindsay thinks ice cream is finger-lickin' good!


Pies and Stephanie. By the way, Pies is holding a pint of vodka in his hand.


Brooke and Papi.


Lindsay wielding the scoop.

Day 81: I Have A Girlfriend?

Listening: Now it always seemed such a waste. She always had a pretty face, so I wondered how she hung around this place.

What's my problem? Not enough to say.

Well, it's 8/8/08. It's the opening of the olympics today, and apparently a bunch of dumb people wanted to get married today. C'mon, people. It's just some numbers.

Today was a pretty slow night, surprisingly. On a typical Friday in season, we would be expecting to do right around 200 dinners. Tonight, we did a mere 150. I was running a sardine special on the hot apps station, and we sold five of them all night long.

To be honest, not a lot has been happening lately. I've been working my ass off, as usual, and I am working rounds every week. This means that I'm splitting my time between a number of stations. I work two days on hot apps, two days on saute and two days on the expo/plating station. Doing this is both good and bad. It's good, because it means that I'm clutch. It means that I am the jack of all trades and I can fill in for anyone at any time. It's bad, because it means that I'm covering for people's days off. And on the day before a day off, a lot of people slack off. This means that I have to clean up other people's messes or dig other people out of the weeds. I think it makes me feel important to know that without me, Chef would have to work the line on people's days off.

It seems like staffing is a huge issue these days. We only recently got fully staffed and that's going to end when Jo-jo bounces out of here. A number of other restaurants have had a hard time getting fully staffed. In Boston, I know that since I left the Dizzle, they have been under staffed. What makes it even worse for the Dizzle is that, one line cook left after I left, another one's last day is on Sunday, and then two interns gave their notice the other day. If they don't get bodies in the door, they're screwed.

For the past few years, the gettin' has been good for cooks and chefs, and anyone working in the restaurant industry. With the boom of the food network and all of the pedestrian foodies out there, restaurants have been opening and have been making money hand over fist. With the current economic downturn, I fear that the good times may be ending soon. The cost of everything is up with the cost of oil and gas. In the restaurant industry, we depend on gas to cook with and to transport our raw goods. So this in tern is making it more expensive to put food on a plate, which in turn makes it more expensive for the average joe to go out and eat. If the average joe can't go out to eat, restaurants close. This means that there are less good restaurant jobs. I just hope that when the smoke clears and the dust settles, I'm part of the elite who are running this country's culinary scene.

Anyways, enough of the speculation on the economy and on the future of the American culinary scene. I'll finish this post off with a bit of a story.

Two nights ago, Val, the dishwasher comes in. She works at another restaurant during the day. Lindsay, the new girl's boyfriend works at that restaurant too. So, Val comes in and says to Lindsay and I, "So you're both dating people over at (insert restaurant name)?" Lindsay says she is, and I say, "What on earth are you talking about?" It turns out that The people over at that restaurant were talking about it. Lindsay's boyfriend said that they were dating, and someone else said that the guy with the glasses working where I work was dating a girl over there. I'm the only guy who wears glasses in our kitchen. I assure you, I'm not dating anyone on the island at the moment, but for a while, there was a rumor going around that I was. ti told Val to figure out who I was dating and to make sure she was cute. If she wasn't cute, trade her in for someone who is. As expected, it was all just a big misunderstanding. It's too bad really. It might have been nice to have someone to hang out with on the island.

Speaking of the little bit of loneliness that plagues my stay here, I have found out once and for all the answer to the question of whether I am an introvert or an extrovert. I find that I am an extrovert. I take my energy from those around me. When I'm by myself and I don't know anyone, it's much harder for me to get the ball rolling. My days off are usually pretty solitary, which isn't an entirely bad thing. It's just annoying. Well, I'm off to sleep. Hopefully, I'll have more to say later.

Day 69 (Did You Really Think That I Would Pass This Up): It Should Have Been... Me?!?

Listening: Don't you know me? I'm the boy next door, the one you find so easy to ignore. Is that what I was fighting for? Walking on a thin line, straight off the front line, labeled as freaks loose on the streets of the city.

What's my problem? Inspiring men are not immortal.

I've been working my ass off lately. But, really, what's new about that? Twelve hour work days, six days a week. It's tough on the body. Lately, my body has been hating me. My lower back has been spasming a little over the past couple of days. It doesn't help that while working saute last night, I put up 139 of 205 meals. At the end of the night, Pies and I counted the proteins that we had left at the end of the night versus what we started. The numbers were something like 48 flounders sold, 34 tunas, 32 hens, and 25 monkfish specials. Hot apps probably put up ten or fifteen entrees, which means that grill only put up 55 meals. Yeah. How's that for a split?

I know that I've had a heavier share than that before though. When we run striped bass as a special, it blazes out of the kitchen. I don't know if it's because it's the most delicious fish on earth when cooked (in my humble opinion), or if it's because it's a completely seasonal fish. But people order the hell out of it. I think if I remember correctly, one night we sold out of 54 orders of striped bass with an hour still left in service.

Anyhow, last night, we totally got fucked by the flow. It was a complete deluge followed by a lull and then another deluge. Our last big push of the night had 57 dinners. About halfway through the night, I turned to Pies and asked him if he ever felt like he was in a bad prison movie. One of the things that totally fucked the flow was that on a four or five top, only one person would order an appetizer. This means that while that one person is eating his or her salad or whatever, everyone else at the table is sitting around with their thumb up their ass, waiting, getting hungrier by the second. See, from what I'm told, every actual minute feels like three if you're a diner waiting for food, and feels like ten seconds if you're a cook who is in the weeds. So, the lesson in this is for you to order apps so that the guys cooking your entrees have enough time to give them the proper care.

I think what hurt the most about last night's service was the very last pickup. I had a guinea hen on that pickup, and I accidentally blew it away. When the order for a guinea hen comes in, I drop a bread pudding in the warming oven that's set to 250 or 300 degrees, dredge the guinea hen breast in seasoned flour, shallow fry it skin side down until the breading is golden brown, flip it, fry on that side until golden brown, and then transfer it to a sizzle platter and pop it in my oven which is set at 500 degrees until it's cooked through. Well, I had so much going on in the last four or five pickups that I didn't even realize that it had finished cooking and that the bottom of the breast had burnt to the sizzle platter. Yeah. It sucked. We had to re-fire a new one. Luckily, I was able to pick out a smaller breast so that the cooking time was shorter.

Aside from that, work has been pretty good. I've been really on top of things, and have even started butchering the fish on a regular basis. I know that sounds pretty mundane, but it's a big thing for me. In every other restaurant that I have worked with, either the prep guy, the chef or the sous chef does all of the butchering. In the one case where it was the prep guy doing the butchering, he had been doing it for upwards of twenty years. So, needless to say, they only trust certain people to do the butchering. When I cut fish, I'm very careful and deliberate. I do a lot of things that I don't have to do when I butcher too. I check the invoices, calculate out how much everything costs, and cut according to how many portions we should be getting. For instance, salmon costs $12.50 per pound. I was told we want our food cost to be about $7 per serving of salmon. So, I'll multiply the number of pounds of salmon that we received by the cost of the salmon, which is about $12.50. I'll divide that number by 7, and that will tell me how many portions I should be getting out of the amount of salmon that we received. At first I was a little bit scared of doing the butchering. I mean, what happens if I make some bad cuts and we lose money on those portions? But I quickly got over that, and now it is probably one of my favorite things to do during prep.

On the worse side of prep, staff meal, or family meal, has been killing me. Since Mikey left, I have been doing a great deal of the thought for staff meal. Papi does his best to avoid doing anything for it, even if the master prep list says that he should be helping. Jo-jo just sucks, and he comes up with a lot of things that are a lot more labor intensive or just have weird flavor combinations, so I try to box him out of it. Pies is never on staff meal because he's sous. Chef isn't on it because he's chef. Brit. Well, she has some great ideas, it's just that sometimes it's bad timing. For instance, she wanted to make a chicken alfredo for staff meal the day after we had pasta with bolognese.

Yesterday, Pies deliberately gave me the day off from making staff meal, so it was just Jo-jo and Brit making staff meal. They decided that they would make sandwiches with sauteed beef, avocado and bean sprouts. It doesn't sound so bad. Brit made focaccia bread just for staff meal (mistake #1: staff meal should take at most 45 minutes of labor time... baking bread for staff meal is just unreasonable). Now, Staff meal is supposed to go up at a quarter to five, so that we can break at five and be back at half past five for the six o'clock start of service. They didn't get staff meal up until almost five past five (mistake #2). Further more, I had to help them put together the sandwiches. We weren't out of the kitchen until a quarter past five, so we only got a fifteen minute break. I said to Pies on the way out of the kitchen, "And this is why I will never get another day off from staff meal...."

Today, I came in to find out that no one had pulled any protein for staff meal last night. This means that I have nothing to work with for staff meal. Today, I just couldn't deal with it. My brain was tired and my back was killing me. I stood in the walk-in for a good ten minutes just trying to come up with an idea, and nothing was coming. So, I said, "fuck it." I let Jo-jo deal with it and he and Papi picked up the slack. It's tough to come up with anything good after working on every staff meal for six days a week for three or five weeks. It's a tough, tough thing. Hopefully, tomorrow I'll be back on my staff meal game. I'm doing my best to bring my game to the next level. For the most part I think I'm doing it.

Speaking of the next level, a funny little conversation happened the other night when I was out drinking with Pies. He had worked in kitchens for a long time at places like Longhorn Steakhouse and as a short order cook, but got serious about food and went to culinary school at age 28. He's 31 now and sous chef at arguably the best restaurant on Nantucket.

So, we're strolling along half cocked and I say, "Y'know, I wonder sometimes if I had gone to school, if I would be a sous-chef by now." He told me, "You would have, even if you hadn't gone to school. I know that for sure." I asked him how. This is when he tells me that one night he and Seany sous-sous had been out drinking when Seany said, "I hope the next sous is as cool as I am." Pies asked who the new sous was, and Seany told him that Chef had hired a guy from Boston (me) who was supposed to be pretty hot shit. Since no one knew anything about me, Pies got a bit up in arms. Originally Pies was gonna work the season and then head to southeast Asia to travel. This place was his way out of working for his brother in Seattle and his way out of the country. Pies wasn't even being considered for the position, because Chef knew that he wanted to take off at the end of the season. That's when Pies decided that he wanted to stay. He wanted the position, even though he wasn't being considered for it. After getting angry about it for a bit, he sat down with Chef and said that he wanted the position and that he would commit to at least two years. And that's how I was bypassed unbeknownst to me. So, I was supposed to be the next sous-chef.

I have to say that it's pretty amazing. I have a decent resume. I have decent skills, but am I ready to be a sous-chef? I don't know. I think I have the management skills and the mental capacity, but I dunno if I would have had the line confidence to be sous-chef. Now, I think that I totally have the line confidence to be a sous-chef. I wonder what would have happened had I become the sous. I think that I would have failed miserably. So I guess it's a good thing that Pies stepped up. I definitely see myself as lead line cook right now. I'm taking on more and more responsibility every day and I love it. I also don't think that it would have been as possible as it has been if Mikey hadn't dipped. Chef and Mikey were tight.

Anyhow, I only have a few more thoughts for the night. First of all, for those of you who don't know, Dr. Randy Pausch finally succumbed to pancreatic cancer on the 25th. He was the man responsible for giving the famous "Last Lecture" and writing the book named after the speech. The speech is worth the hour and fifteen minutes of your time. I have to be honest that as I watched the speech, I felt that he was talking to me. I know that it wasn't my childhood dream to be a chef, but I know now why it was so hard to get as far as I have gotten. I can't even begin to convey how inspirational Randy Pausch was, and continues to be for me. It's a great asset to the world that this man existed and touched more people than he could probably imagine. It's a great loss to the world that he is gone.

It's time for me to go to sleep so that I can wake up in the morning and beat my body to hell all over again. I need to find a masseuse. Anyone know a cheap masseuse in Nantucket?