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?
Sunday, July 27, 2008
Tuesday, July 22, 2008
Day 63: Sexile?
Listening: But unaccountably my heart was growing small and mean. A hurry past wretched people I pretend I haven't seen, but there's money in my pocket and my clothes are clean
What's my problem? One person can ruin it all.
Strange... I've been consistently blogging around once a week for the past few weeks, and here I go and blog twice in three days! Amazing! My two fans in Chicago must be psyched. But please, don't everyone cream your pants. It's just a second blog in a week.
So, yesterday, for the first time ever in my life, I was sexiled. Yes. Sexiled. What is this? College? For fuck sake! Let me tell you how it all went down.
After work last night, I come upstairs, talk on the phone for an hour, shower and plop down on the couch only to channel surf and find that the only decent things on the TV were "Ghostbusters" and "Desperado," two legit uses of two hours when you're bored as fuck, but not really what I expose my brain to. Apparently Jo-jo, Pies, Papi, Sandy (a food runner), Soupy (a bartender) went to the Muse, the local "nightclub" (I use that term loosely). It was there that Jo-jo picked up a taxi full of chubbies and uglies. I use that in the nicest senses of the words. I'm taking some of this from second hand information. Apparently when these chicks hopped out of the cab, it raised up a good three or four inches without their weight inside. I know one of the girls who was part of the crew, and she is a chubby, and without a good personality to make her a worthwhile individual. I know I sound awful, but, okay, there's no good reason for it. I should erase this whole paragraph, but what's done is done. You'll just have to deal with the edge I have on this whole thing.
Anyhow, they bring all of these chicks back to the compound, continue drinking and causing a ruckas. That's when I got my fat ass up off the couch to see what was going on. There they are, being loud and annoying. If you talk to Brit about it, she gets heated. She was trying to sleep while all of this was going on. She had a 6AM prep shift the next morning. So, she comes out and tells them all to be quiet and I go downstairs to see what's up. It's there that I make visual contact with the annoying chubbies and uglies. They continue being loud and annoying.
After talking to the guys (Pies, Sandy & Soupy), I head back upstairs, because I figure this shit ain't worth my time. I stopped drinking hours ago and chubby & ugly girls who don't have anything interesting to say are not entertaining. On my way back into the apartment, I see this girl sitting on the bench across next to my front door texting on her phone. She's neither chubby nor ugly, so I ask her why everyone else is half in the bag and she's not. She admits that she is, in fact, half in the bag just like everyone else. I talk to her some more anyways.
I find out, when we introduce ourselves, that she has known about me for a while. Apparently, she worked at Temple Bar with my friends Tom and Greg. She said that when she told them that she would be working at Straight Wharf, they told her that she should try to find me because I would be working on the island too. As we talked, I half rolled my eyes at things she said, because she was a self admitting trust fund kid who lost her trust fund because her brother squandered it on drugs. She said she worked in kitchens in Boston and said she could rock the line. The truth was that she looked a little too prissy to have done all that. She definitely looks more front-of-the-house, which is what she's doing at Straight Wharf.
But I kept talking to her thinking to myself, "Hey, it's nice to meet someone who knows people I know in Boston, and maybe I might have someone new to hang out with on my days off." So I talk to her and talk to her, and that's when Jo-jo shows up. I'm fucking talking to this chica and he fucking hijacks the conversation. What tha fuck? Are you serious, dude? Have you any social graces? Clearly not. So Jo-jo likes to talk. He talks and talks and talks. I'm not just talking about in this particular instance. I'm talking in general. And ninety percent of the things that come out of his mouth make him sound like an arse.
Now, I'm not a guy who tries to hijack anything back. I'm not a guy who's gonna cut someone down while they're trying to throw game. At that point, I can't get a word in with Jo-jo's jabbering on anyways. So, I head back downstairs and end up sitting with the guys and one of the chubbies/uglies (all of the other ones left) until about half past three in the morning. When I finally go upstairs, there's a shirt on the door knob and sounds coming from inside.
Fuck, man. All I wanted to do was go to sleep. So, not only did I lose sleep, because I was out on the couch, but I lost someone I thought I might hang out with on my day off. See, I don't like to hang out with people who hang with people who are lacking in character. And as you can tell, I don't think too much of Jo-jo, both personally and professionally. So if she's riding the Jo-jo meat rocket, I don't want nothing to do with that chick.
It's amazing. I never once got sexiled in college. Not a single time. I have to wait until I'm thirty years old before that happens. How fuct is that? Anyhow I'm over it for the most part, but I still think about my living arrangement. I "share" a room with Jo-jo, a guy I don't really like all that much. At least ninety percent of the time he sleeps on the couch in the common room because he likes to sleep with the ambient noise of the History Channel. In the room he leaves his shit all over the place. He leaves the TV on all of the time, so, I can only listen to my music in my bunk where it's so low that I bump my head when I sit up straight. Tonight is a rare occasion. Jo-jo is asleep in the room, so Brit and I are in the common room on our computers and I'm playing my music. The TV is not on.
Pies, Brit and I were talking, and Pies said that it really shouldn't be Brit with the room all to herself. He says that the interns should have to bunk together and that I should have the solo room. I wish that were the case. There is another room in the back house. The only problem is that you have to go through the bathroom to get to the room and if anyone's in the bathroom, you can't get out. I've been thinking about moving into there. At least I wouldn't have a bunk over my head and if I wanted to just sit in my room, reading and listening to music, I could.
Anyhow, enough about bad shit. Let's talk about a little bit of good shit. So I'm prepping today, and chef slips a little manila envelope into my chef coat pocket. I know what it is. It's cash. I don't know how much cash, or what the cash is for, but I know it's cash. It's in the same type of envelope that he gave me the cash for my first week's raise in. I look in the envelope. It's the same amount of money as the raise I got. Weird. Pay day is on Friday and it's Monday. So, I really don't know what that money was for, and I'm kind of afraid to ask. If I get my paycheck this Friday and it's the same as the last paycheck, it just means that my raise didn't make it to this pay period. If my check is fatter than last paycheck, then I guess I got another bonus. I suppose that it could be that. Over the last week, I have been taking on more responsibility. I have been butchering fish, doing different prep odds and ends, and two days ago, I made a "bangin'" dipping sauce for the crab wontons that Chef was serving at a special catering event.
So that's all the news that's fit to print. Tomorrow's my day off and I have no clue what I'll be doing. I may just go somewhere to read if it's raining. Maybe I'll see whatever movie is playing tomorrow night. I also want to get to Marine Home Center to see if I can pick up some stuff for the kitchen. Anyhow, it's late. Time to go to sleep.
What's my problem? One person can ruin it all.
Strange... I've been consistently blogging around once a week for the past few weeks, and here I go and blog twice in three days! Amazing! My two fans in Chicago must be psyched. But please, don't everyone cream your pants. It's just a second blog in a week.
So, yesterday, for the first time ever in my life, I was sexiled. Yes. Sexiled. What is this? College? For fuck sake! Let me tell you how it all went down.
After work last night, I come upstairs, talk on the phone for an hour, shower and plop down on the couch only to channel surf and find that the only decent things on the TV were "Ghostbusters" and "Desperado," two legit uses of two hours when you're bored as fuck, but not really what I expose my brain to. Apparently Jo-jo, Pies, Papi, Sandy (a food runner), Soupy (a bartender) went to the Muse, the local "nightclub" (I use that term loosely). It was there that Jo-jo picked up a taxi full of chubbies and uglies. I use that in the nicest senses of the words. I'm taking some of this from second hand information. Apparently when these chicks hopped out of the cab, it raised up a good three or four inches without their weight inside. I know one of the girls who was part of the crew, and she is a chubby, and without a good personality to make her a worthwhile individual. I know I sound awful, but, okay, there's no good reason for it. I should erase this whole paragraph, but what's done is done. You'll just have to deal with the edge I have on this whole thing.
Anyhow, they bring all of these chicks back to the compound, continue drinking and causing a ruckas. That's when I got my fat ass up off the couch to see what was going on. There they are, being loud and annoying. If you talk to Brit about it, she gets heated. She was trying to sleep while all of this was going on. She had a 6AM prep shift the next morning. So, she comes out and tells them all to be quiet and I go downstairs to see what's up. It's there that I make visual contact with the annoying chubbies and uglies. They continue being loud and annoying.
After talking to the guys (Pies, Sandy & Soupy), I head back upstairs, because I figure this shit ain't worth my time. I stopped drinking hours ago and chubby & ugly girls who don't have anything interesting to say are not entertaining. On my way back into the apartment, I see this girl sitting on the bench across next to my front door texting on her phone. She's neither chubby nor ugly, so I ask her why everyone else is half in the bag and she's not. She admits that she is, in fact, half in the bag just like everyone else. I talk to her some more anyways.
I find out, when we introduce ourselves, that she has known about me for a while. Apparently, she worked at Temple Bar with my friends Tom and Greg. She said that when she told them that she would be working at Straight Wharf, they told her that she should try to find me because I would be working on the island too. As we talked, I half rolled my eyes at things she said, because she was a self admitting trust fund kid who lost her trust fund because her brother squandered it on drugs. She said she worked in kitchens in Boston and said she could rock the line. The truth was that she looked a little too prissy to have done all that. She definitely looks more front-of-the-house, which is what she's doing at Straight Wharf.
But I kept talking to her thinking to myself, "Hey, it's nice to meet someone who knows people I know in Boston, and maybe I might have someone new to hang out with on my days off." So I talk to her and talk to her, and that's when Jo-jo shows up. I'm fucking talking to this chica and he fucking hijacks the conversation. What tha fuck? Are you serious, dude? Have you any social graces? Clearly not. So Jo-jo likes to talk. He talks and talks and talks. I'm not just talking about in this particular instance. I'm talking in general. And ninety percent of the things that come out of his mouth make him sound like an arse.
Now, I'm not a guy who tries to hijack anything back. I'm not a guy who's gonna cut someone down while they're trying to throw game. At that point, I can't get a word in with Jo-jo's jabbering on anyways. So, I head back downstairs and end up sitting with the guys and one of the chubbies/uglies (all of the other ones left) until about half past three in the morning. When I finally go upstairs, there's a shirt on the door knob and sounds coming from inside.
Fuck, man. All I wanted to do was go to sleep. So, not only did I lose sleep, because I was out on the couch, but I lost someone I thought I might hang out with on my day off. See, I don't like to hang out with people who hang with people who are lacking in character. And as you can tell, I don't think too much of Jo-jo, both personally and professionally. So if she's riding the Jo-jo meat rocket, I don't want nothing to do with that chick.
It's amazing. I never once got sexiled in college. Not a single time. I have to wait until I'm thirty years old before that happens. How fuct is that? Anyhow I'm over it for the most part, but I still think about my living arrangement. I "share" a room with Jo-jo, a guy I don't really like all that much. At least ninety percent of the time he sleeps on the couch in the common room because he likes to sleep with the ambient noise of the History Channel. In the room he leaves his shit all over the place. He leaves the TV on all of the time, so, I can only listen to my music in my bunk where it's so low that I bump my head when I sit up straight. Tonight is a rare occasion. Jo-jo is asleep in the room, so Brit and I are in the common room on our computers and I'm playing my music. The TV is not on.
Pies, Brit and I were talking, and Pies said that it really shouldn't be Brit with the room all to herself. He says that the interns should have to bunk together and that I should have the solo room. I wish that were the case. There is another room in the back house. The only problem is that you have to go through the bathroom to get to the room and if anyone's in the bathroom, you can't get out. I've been thinking about moving into there. At least I wouldn't have a bunk over my head and if I wanted to just sit in my room, reading and listening to music, I could.
Anyhow, enough about bad shit. Let's talk about a little bit of good shit. So I'm prepping today, and chef slips a little manila envelope into my chef coat pocket. I know what it is. It's cash. I don't know how much cash, or what the cash is for, but I know it's cash. It's in the same type of envelope that he gave me the cash for my first week's raise in. I look in the envelope. It's the same amount of money as the raise I got. Weird. Pay day is on Friday and it's Monday. So, I really don't know what that money was for, and I'm kind of afraid to ask. If I get my paycheck this Friday and it's the same as the last paycheck, it just means that my raise didn't make it to this pay period. If my check is fatter than last paycheck, then I guess I got another bonus. I suppose that it could be that. Over the last week, I have been taking on more responsibility. I have been butchering fish, doing different prep odds and ends, and two days ago, I made a "bangin'" dipping sauce for the crab wontons that Chef was serving at a special catering event.
So that's all the news that's fit to print. Tomorrow's my day off and I have no clue what I'll be doing. I may just go somewhere to read if it's raining. Maybe I'll see whatever movie is playing tomorrow night. I also want to get to Marine Home Center to see if I can pick up some stuff for the kitchen. Anyhow, it's late. Time to go to sleep.
Sunday, July 20, 2008
Day 61: R&R Followed By Helter Skelter
Listening: But the girl on car in the parking lot says, "Man you should try to take a shot. Can't you see my walls are crumbling?"
What's my problem? I have an overdeveloped sense of responsibility.
WHEW! What a week. I guess I'll start with my day off. Because Mikey dipped out and because there has been so much drama in the restaurant, Chef decided to close on Tuesday. He said it was the only time and will be the only time that he would close during the season. The funny thing was that it was my day off anyways. That's right. had Mikey not taken his ball and head home, I would have had Tuesday off anyways.
With that being said, all week, I had been thinking of whether I wanted to go to Hyannis to see Sam. She was down on the Cape hanging out with some of her family from out of town. I guess, every year a big group of her family rent a cluster of cottages and hang out for a while on the Cape. They go on bike rides and have wine and cheese parties. Honestly, it sounds like a lot of fun. But she asked me if I wanted to go to Hyannis to meet her for lunch. My first reaction was to say yes, but then I got thinking about it. It costs me $40 each way to take the fast (1 hour) ferry to Hyannis, or $19 each way to take the slow (2 hour) ferry. And even then, you're a slave to the ferry schedule, where there are only five or six departures per day each way. Then, there's the fact that I would only be seeing her for a few hours. While we were talking about it, she made it seem like she would only be able to meet up with me from around noon until three. So it would have been either $80 and two hours of travel time for hanging out for three hours, or $40 and four hours of travel time for three hours of hanging out. It hardly seemed like a good idea, so I hemmed and hawed.
On Monday, I had to make a decision. As I talked to Sam on the phone, she could tell that I wasn't really feeling it, so she let me off the hook. After I got off the phone, I started talking to my friend Rachel online. I asked her if she thought it was worth it. She said that if it would make me feel good to see Sam then I should go. If not, then don't. I thought about it and changed my decision. The second I did and stepped out of my room, Brit and Jo-jo were in the common room talking abotu going to Hyannis on the day off. They said that they were taking the 8AM flight from the Nantucket airport to the Hyannis airport for $20. See, the first four Nantucket Shuttle flights from Nantucket to Hyannis are $20! Score! And it only takes 15 minutes of travel time! Bonus!
So, I text Sam and tell her that I'm going to meet up with her after all and tell her the details. It turns out that she could meet up with me earlier, so we left it that she would call me on her way to Hyannis after she did a couple of things with her family.
The next morning, Brit, Jo-jo and I dragged our asses out of bed (or in Jo-jo's case, the couch) and caught our flight to Hyannis. Once we got there, both Brit and Jo-jo were on the prowl for McDonald's. Blech. They're kids. I suppose it's what kids eat. But, really, how can you have a refined palate and an appreciation for quality ingredients and still want to put that shit in your mouth. Then again, I was on the hunt for Dunkin' Donuts. Mmm. Donuts....
We found the Dunkin' first, so I got a nice large coffee and a chocolate donut. Right across the street was a McDonald's. To tell you the truth, the two of them couldn't get over there fast enough. I think Brit got a sausage, egg and cheese McMuffin, a hash brown and an apple juice, and Jo-jo got a couple of chicken biscuit things. As they were two for three dollars, he gave me one of them. I have to say that I like almost every biscuit that I meet. I'm not saying that I would go out and get one of these things again. I am saying that I love biscuits.
For the next couple of hours, the three of us wandered the streets of Hyannis. We found this kick ass record store that was a lot like Newbury Comics in Boston. It sold quirky t-shirts, bobble heads and other nick nacks. What actually brought us into the store was a t-shirt in the window that I ended up buying. I'll post a pic of it later. I also found a couple of CDs to buy. I found Arrested Development's "3 Years, 5 Months, and 2 Days in the Life of..." for five dollars, and what I thought was Ben Watt's "North Marine Drive" album, a record that I have been searching for for a while. It's an old import and completely out of print. Two things sucked about buying these CDs. First of all, the Arrested Development album wasn't nearly as good as I remember it being. Second, when I opened the Ben Watt album, I found the motion picture soundtrack to Twelfth Night. Luckily I opened the CDs while I was still in Hyannis and was able to return it for a full refund.
I ended up meeting up with Sam around eleven o'clock. We walked around for a while and then settled down to have some lunch. I wasn't really all that hungry seeing as I had eaten a donut and a chicken biscuit, and drank a large coffee. We ended up sitting on the patio of this restaurant for three hours just sitting and talking. In that time, we ordered two salads and three beers. We were the most unexciting deuce that this restaurant had ever seen. It was totally worth the cash and the travel time to just sit there and chat with someone who really knew me. It seems like I don't really have anyone here like that yet.
The three of us left on the three thirty flight. The CNN station in the airport on the way back had reports of a propeller plane crashing in Atlanta, GA. To be honest, it kind of wigged me out. I'm not a big fan of prop planes. I mean, if you can name people who have died in prop planes, then that's a lot of people. Off the top of my head, I can name, JFK Jr., Buddy Holly, the Big Bopper, Ritchie Valens, Aaliya. See that's five people there. I'm lucky that we didn't make it onto that list, but I told my two cohorts that if the three of us die like Buddy Holly, the Big Bopper and Ritchie Valens, I get to be Buddy Holly.
When I got back, I quickly dropped my gear and headed into town. I was on a mission to find a sandwich and a half bottle of wine. All week long, there has been free Shakespeare on Children's Beach. I was excited. I was hoping that it would be as good as the Shakespeare on the Common is in Boston. With my in-town missions accomplished, I headed to Children's Beach. When I got there, there were only a few people there my age. There were a lot of older folk, folks with kids and, well, their kids. I tried to convince some of the front of the house people to come with me, but no one was up for it or they blew me off. Bastards.
The show itself was only okay. The acting was mediocre and the costumes were, well, not much of costumes. The interpretation of the text was pretty straight forward. There wasn't any fun twists. Oh, by the way, the play that they were performing was "Much Ado About Nothing." I think that another time during the Nantucket Shakespeare Festival, "The Tempest" was performed. I like that play much more. I hope to get back up to Boston in the next few weeks where they're performing "As You Like It."
Anyhow, work has been crazy busy over the past few days. We've been feeding anywhere from 150 to 200 people a night and I have been feeding at least three quarters of them. That's right. At least three quarters of those people were ordering off of my station. For the past three nights, we put a striped bass special on the menu. It was pan roasted striped bass on potato risotto, ragout of Nantucket oyster mushrooms, basil pesto, truffle foam and fresh shaved summer truffles. It was a pretty bad ass dish, and we sold out of it. Last night, we sold 48 orders. Tonight, we sold 52 orders. So with that dish alone, I'm feeding at least a third of the diners. I can say that I sold around twenty guinea hens tonight, and twenty six last night. Twenty seven tunas last night, and fifteen tonight. I think I sold around twenty five or thirty each night. So I'm probably putting up at least a hundred and fifteen meals.
It's also been as hot as balls up in the kitchen too. It's almost as hot as it is when you stand next to the flat top at Chez in the middle of the summer, but not. It's about as hot as the saute station at Chez, but not as hot as it is at the grill and hot apps station at Chez during the summer. But hot nonetheless. So it's hot and busy. So you have to powder up so you don't chafe, and you should lube up and get ready for the ass fucking that is every night's service during the summer.
Last night, Pies was being a little bitch. He was tired, and was just a douche all day long. I tried to pump him up during service, but he really wasn't having it. At the end of service he was continuing to be a little bitch by throwing shit around and putting things where they didn't belong so that other people had to shuffle things around. Finally I had enough of it. So I said out loud in a crybaby voice, "Awww. Pies is tired. Awww." To that, he said, "What? I'm not allowed to be tired?" And to that I responded, "Not when you're just being a bitch to everyone." To that, he said, "I'm not even being a bitch, but if you want me to be a bitch, I can be a bitch." That completely pissed me off. Since Seany sous-sous left, Pies is the new sous. He's management. He should be the one trying to get people through the day, not the other way around. He should be the one leading by example, but instead, he bitches about the heat and bitches about being tired. He throws his shit around. It's not right. I dunno. You never hear me complaining about the heat, being tired or being hung over in the kitchen. I never let it affect my work. I don't think it should affect a sous chef's work either. I like Pies a lot. I think he's a good guy, but he has a lot to learn about managing people. Hopefully he'll learn the lessons that he needs to learn sooner rather than later.
Also in recent events, my friend Mark has been on the island for the past few days with his family. He recently finished working as a chef at a place in Central Square, and is currently jobless. I'm putting the full court press on trying to get him down here for at least a few weeks to work. He left today, and told Chef that he would call on Monday or Tuesday with what he has decided. It's kinda good that he's gone for now though. I have been out every night for the past four nights. I don't need to be doing that.
Anyhow, it's late. I need to be going to sleep. Hopefully I'll get better sleep tonight. I woke up sweating at half past six in the morning this morning. Ugh. It sucked. But I'm gonna crash hard tonight. Feeding at least two hundred and fifty people by yourself over two dinner services can wear you out. So I'll leave you with some images.
My new tee.
Brit and I on the prop plane to Hyannis.
Jo-jo and Brit psyched about their fast food.
The tattoo Jo-jo got while in Hyannis.
Sam and I in Hyannis.
A view of Nantucket from a prop plane.
The baptists in Hyannis say...
What's my problem? I have an overdeveloped sense of responsibility.
WHEW! What a week. I guess I'll start with my day off. Because Mikey dipped out and because there has been so much drama in the restaurant, Chef decided to close on Tuesday. He said it was the only time and will be the only time that he would close during the season. The funny thing was that it was my day off anyways. That's right. had Mikey not taken his ball and head home, I would have had Tuesday off anyways.
With that being said, all week, I had been thinking of whether I wanted to go to Hyannis to see Sam. She was down on the Cape hanging out with some of her family from out of town. I guess, every year a big group of her family rent a cluster of cottages and hang out for a while on the Cape. They go on bike rides and have wine and cheese parties. Honestly, it sounds like a lot of fun. But she asked me if I wanted to go to Hyannis to meet her for lunch. My first reaction was to say yes, but then I got thinking about it. It costs me $40 each way to take the fast (1 hour) ferry to Hyannis, or $19 each way to take the slow (2 hour) ferry. And even then, you're a slave to the ferry schedule, where there are only five or six departures per day each way. Then, there's the fact that I would only be seeing her for a few hours. While we were talking about it, she made it seem like she would only be able to meet up with me from around noon until three. So it would have been either $80 and two hours of travel time for hanging out for three hours, or $40 and four hours of travel time for three hours of hanging out. It hardly seemed like a good idea, so I hemmed and hawed.
On Monday, I had to make a decision. As I talked to Sam on the phone, she could tell that I wasn't really feeling it, so she let me off the hook. After I got off the phone, I started talking to my friend Rachel online. I asked her if she thought it was worth it. She said that if it would make me feel good to see Sam then I should go. If not, then don't. I thought about it and changed my decision. The second I did and stepped out of my room, Brit and Jo-jo were in the common room talking abotu going to Hyannis on the day off. They said that they were taking the 8AM flight from the Nantucket airport to the Hyannis airport for $20. See, the first four Nantucket Shuttle flights from Nantucket to Hyannis are $20! Score! And it only takes 15 minutes of travel time! Bonus!
So, I text Sam and tell her that I'm going to meet up with her after all and tell her the details. It turns out that she could meet up with me earlier, so we left it that she would call me on her way to Hyannis after she did a couple of things with her family.
The next morning, Brit, Jo-jo and I dragged our asses out of bed (or in Jo-jo's case, the couch) and caught our flight to Hyannis. Once we got there, both Brit and Jo-jo were on the prowl for McDonald's. Blech. They're kids. I suppose it's what kids eat. But, really, how can you have a refined palate and an appreciation for quality ingredients and still want to put that shit in your mouth. Then again, I was on the hunt for Dunkin' Donuts. Mmm. Donuts....
We found the Dunkin' first, so I got a nice large coffee and a chocolate donut. Right across the street was a McDonald's. To tell you the truth, the two of them couldn't get over there fast enough. I think Brit got a sausage, egg and cheese McMuffin, a hash brown and an apple juice, and Jo-jo got a couple of chicken biscuit things. As they were two for three dollars, he gave me one of them. I have to say that I like almost every biscuit that I meet. I'm not saying that I would go out and get one of these things again. I am saying that I love biscuits.
For the next couple of hours, the three of us wandered the streets of Hyannis. We found this kick ass record store that was a lot like Newbury Comics in Boston. It sold quirky t-shirts, bobble heads and other nick nacks. What actually brought us into the store was a t-shirt in the window that I ended up buying. I'll post a pic of it later. I also found a couple of CDs to buy. I found Arrested Development's "3 Years, 5 Months, and 2 Days in the Life of..." for five dollars, and what I thought was Ben Watt's "North Marine Drive" album, a record that I have been searching for for a while. It's an old import and completely out of print. Two things sucked about buying these CDs. First of all, the Arrested Development album wasn't nearly as good as I remember it being. Second, when I opened the Ben Watt album, I found the motion picture soundtrack to Twelfth Night. Luckily I opened the CDs while I was still in Hyannis and was able to return it for a full refund.
I ended up meeting up with Sam around eleven o'clock. We walked around for a while and then settled down to have some lunch. I wasn't really all that hungry seeing as I had eaten a donut and a chicken biscuit, and drank a large coffee. We ended up sitting on the patio of this restaurant for three hours just sitting and talking. In that time, we ordered two salads and three beers. We were the most unexciting deuce that this restaurant had ever seen. It was totally worth the cash and the travel time to just sit there and chat with someone who really knew me. It seems like I don't really have anyone here like that yet.
The three of us left on the three thirty flight. The CNN station in the airport on the way back had reports of a propeller plane crashing in Atlanta, GA. To be honest, it kind of wigged me out. I'm not a big fan of prop planes. I mean, if you can name people who have died in prop planes, then that's a lot of people. Off the top of my head, I can name, JFK Jr., Buddy Holly, the Big Bopper, Ritchie Valens, Aaliya. See that's five people there. I'm lucky that we didn't make it onto that list, but I told my two cohorts that if the three of us die like Buddy Holly, the Big Bopper and Ritchie Valens, I get to be Buddy Holly.
When I got back, I quickly dropped my gear and headed into town. I was on a mission to find a sandwich and a half bottle of wine. All week long, there has been free Shakespeare on Children's Beach. I was excited. I was hoping that it would be as good as the Shakespeare on the Common is in Boston. With my in-town missions accomplished, I headed to Children's Beach. When I got there, there were only a few people there my age. There were a lot of older folk, folks with kids and, well, their kids. I tried to convince some of the front of the house people to come with me, but no one was up for it or they blew me off. Bastards.
The show itself was only okay. The acting was mediocre and the costumes were, well, not much of costumes. The interpretation of the text was pretty straight forward. There wasn't any fun twists. Oh, by the way, the play that they were performing was "Much Ado About Nothing." I think that another time during the Nantucket Shakespeare Festival, "The Tempest" was performed. I like that play much more. I hope to get back up to Boston in the next few weeks where they're performing "As You Like It."
Anyhow, work has been crazy busy over the past few days. We've been feeding anywhere from 150 to 200 people a night and I have been feeding at least three quarters of them. That's right. At least three quarters of those people were ordering off of my station. For the past three nights, we put a striped bass special on the menu. It was pan roasted striped bass on potato risotto, ragout of Nantucket oyster mushrooms, basil pesto, truffle foam and fresh shaved summer truffles. It was a pretty bad ass dish, and we sold out of it. Last night, we sold 48 orders. Tonight, we sold 52 orders. So with that dish alone, I'm feeding at least a third of the diners. I can say that I sold around twenty guinea hens tonight, and twenty six last night. Twenty seven tunas last night, and fifteen tonight. I think I sold around twenty five or thirty each night. So I'm probably putting up at least a hundred and fifteen meals.
It's also been as hot as balls up in the kitchen too. It's almost as hot as it is when you stand next to the flat top at Chez in the middle of the summer, but not. It's about as hot as the saute station at Chez, but not as hot as it is at the grill and hot apps station at Chez during the summer. But hot nonetheless. So it's hot and busy. So you have to powder up so you don't chafe, and you should lube up and get ready for the ass fucking that is every night's service during the summer.
Last night, Pies was being a little bitch. He was tired, and was just a douche all day long. I tried to pump him up during service, but he really wasn't having it. At the end of service he was continuing to be a little bitch by throwing shit around and putting things where they didn't belong so that other people had to shuffle things around. Finally I had enough of it. So I said out loud in a crybaby voice, "Awww. Pies is tired. Awww." To that, he said, "What? I'm not allowed to be tired?" And to that I responded, "Not when you're just being a bitch to everyone." To that, he said, "I'm not even being a bitch, but if you want me to be a bitch, I can be a bitch." That completely pissed me off. Since Seany sous-sous left, Pies is the new sous. He's management. He should be the one trying to get people through the day, not the other way around. He should be the one leading by example, but instead, he bitches about the heat and bitches about being tired. He throws his shit around. It's not right. I dunno. You never hear me complaining about the heat, being tired or being hung over in the kitchen. I never let it affect my work. I don't think it should affect a sous chef's work either. I like Pies a lot. I think he's a good guy, but he has a lot to learn about managing people. Hopefully he'll learn the lessons that he needs to learn sooner rather than later.
Also in recent events, my friend Mark has been on the island for the past few days with his family. He recently finished working as a chef at a place in Central Square, and is currently jobless. I'm putting the full court press on trying to get him down here for at least a few weeks to work. He left today, and told Chef that he would call on Monday or Tuesday with what he has decided. It's kinda good that he's gone for now though. I have been out every night for the past four nights. I don't need to be doing that.
Anyhow, it's late. I need to be going to sleep. Hopefully I'll get better sleep tonight. I woke up sweating at half past six in the morning this morning. Ugh. It sucked. But I'm gonna crash hard tonight. Feeding at least two hundred and fifty people by yourself over two dinner services can wear you out. So I'll leave you with some images.
My new tee.
Brit and I on the prop plane to Hyannis.
Jo-jo and Brit psyched about their fast food.
The tattoo Jo-jo got while in Hyannis.
Sam and I in Hyannis.
A view of Nantucket from a prop plane.
The baptists in Hyannis say...
Sunday, July 13, 2008
Day 54: TRAUMA!
Listening: Don't forget to keep your head warm. Twinkle twinkle, Uncle Floyd.
What's my problem? We're short staffed!
It seems like this summer is the summer of calamities here at my restaurant. Chef assures us that it's not usually like this. Let's recount what has happened thus far at the restaurant.
1) Pies gets sick. He has to go to the hospital. He's out for a day.
2) Jo-jo gets sick. He's out for a day.
3) Mikey gets sick. He has to go to the hospital. He's out for a couple of days.
4) Matt the intern arrives. He sucks. He's bounced a week later.
5) The graceless rhinoceros arrives. She sucks. She dips out on 10 minutes notice. Glad to see her go, but she leaves us in the shits staffing wise.
6) Mikey has a panic attack on the line. He has to go to the hospital.
7) Jo-jo gets an oil pop in the eye. He has to go to the hospital.
Now here comes the shocker, and I don't mean a pinkie in the ass.
A couple of nights ago, Pies, Mikey and Papi are drinking after work one night. Mikey is the only one of us who doesn't live in the compound. So he decides that he's going to get on his scooter and go home. This has happened countless times. He gets trashed, but can still scoot-scoot home. He always gets home safe, and there's never a scratch on the scoot-scoot. This night was different though.
He leaves and a little while later, Pies gets a text. Mikey texted him saying that he had been hit by a car on his way home. Pies tells Mikey to stay put and hops on his bike and races to where Mikey says he is. When Pies gets there, Mikey is nowhere to be found. He calls Mikey again. Mikey says that he's walking the scoot-scoot home, and that he's down the road. Pies, again, tells him to stay put. When he gets to the next point, again, Mikey is nowhere to be found. This is when Pies' phone dies. He goes up and down the street looking for him and doesn't find him. At that point, there's nothing more that he can do, so he comes back to the compound.
The next day, yesterday, Mikey comes in later than usual. He's usually in around half past eleven or so, but this day, he came in at a quarter to one. He seems fine. In fact, I didn't even know he was in an accident all day long. He takes Chef aside and tells him that he has been in accident. Chef tells him that if he needs to take the day off, he can. Mikey says no and continues to prep for the day.
It was a weird day all of the way around. I didn't have a lot to do, but I was kind of in the weeds. I was working hot apps after a few days on saute, so I had to check all of my mis en place, and Jo-jo didn't bother to clean the fryer, so I had to do that as well.
At five, we break for dinner. We always have around a half hour or forty five minutes for dinner. Mikey tells Pies that he's going to go to the store and asks if Pies needs anything. Pies tells him to grab him a Gatorade. And off Mikey goes.
At half past five, we all come back to the kitchen to set up our stations and get ready for the beginning of service at six o'clock. One by one we all come back. I was the second or third one back into the kitchen. At twenty to five, Mikey hasn't shown up. I start setting up his station, because I want to organize the reach in refridgerator with my own proteins and things. At a quarter to six, Chef and Pies start to wrap the tuna with the shoestring potato. At ten to six, Pies, Chef and other people from the restaurant start to try to call Mikey. No answer. We call the hospital and the police. The pastry chef who left the restaurant hours ago hops in her car and begins searching the island.
At six o'clock, Chef makes the call. I'm to move over to saute and Jo-jo moves over to hot apps and Brit comes in from her day off and works garde manager. But still, the question remains. Where is Mikey?
We call his roommate. She says that she looked in his room and all of his stuff is packed. We find out that he made comments to her last night that he feels unlucky on the island this year.
Minutes after hanging up with his roommate, she calls back and tells us that he's on his way to the airport. Chef's wife immediately hops in the car and finds him there. He's on his way home. By home, I don't mean his apartment on the island. I mean home as in upstate New York.
We're all worried as hell. We don't know if everything is alright. We don't know if he hit his head really hard when the car hit him and he isn't thinking straight. All we know is that we're staring down the pipe at a hundred and fifty dinners, half of the cooks on the line are now working a station that they weren't prepared to work that night, and something is wrong with our compadre.
It was a tough night. I killed three proteins. I overcooked two trout and a flounder. We were all sweating bullets and to make it worse, it wasn't two turns of the dining room. It was one HUGE push. At seven o'clock, we only had orders for ten people.
Apparently when Chef's wife saw Mikey at the airport, she asked the police to not let him get on the plane and to take him to the hospital, because what he was doing as so out of character for him. Right before he got on the plane though, she asked him, holding onto his shoulders and looking straight into his eyes, "Do you know what you are doing?" His response was, "yes."
So here we are, two men down in the kitchen. Chef decided to close on Tuesday so that we can all sort of recover from all that has happened, and so that we do all get a day off.
It sucks. We all really like Mikey. Pies said it best that he feels like one of his best friend was killed in a car accident, but is still alive somehow. Mikey added a lot to the kitchen and I really do hope he is alright. We know that he's not coming back though. For me, it definitely has kitchen repercussions. This makes me the saute guy seven days a week, and I'm the only guy who is going to be thinking up staff meals. No one else really puts much effort into staff meal. One guy does nothing, even if he's assigned to help with it. Another guy just has shitty ideas and shitty execution, so I don't want him doing it.
So, that's the news from the Gray Lady. We're living in interesting times here, and hopefully they'll calm down so I can enjoy my working vacation.
What's my problem? We're short staffed!
It seems like this summer is the summer of calamities here at my restaurant. Chef assures us that it's not usually like this. Let's recount what has happened thus far at the restaurant.
1) Pies gets sick. He has to go to the hospital. He's out for a day.
2) Jo-jo gets sick. He's out for a day.
3) Mikey gets sick. He has to go to the hospital. He's out for a couple of days.
4) Matt the intern arrives. He sucks. He's bounced a week later.
5) The graceless rhinoceros arrives. She sucks. She dips out on 10 minutes notice. Glad to see her go, but she leaves us in the shits staffing wise.
6) Mikey has a panic attack on the line. He has to go to the hospital.
7) Jo-jo gets an oil pop in the eye. He has to go to the hospital.
Now here comes the shocker, and I don't mean a pinkie in the ass.
A couple of nights ago, Pies, Mikey and Papi are drinking after work one night. Mikey is the only one of us who doesn't live in the compound. So he decides that he's going to get on his scooter and go home. This has happened countless times. He gets trashed, but can still scoot-scoot home. He always gets home safe, and there's never a scratch on the scoot-scoot. This night was different though.
He leaves and a little while later, Pies gets a text. Mikey texted him saying that he had been hit by a car on his way home. Pies tells Mikey to stay put and hops on his bike and races to where Mikey says he is. When Pies gets there, Mikey is nowhere to be found. He calls Mikey again. Mikey says that he's walking the scoot-scoot home, and that he's down the road. Pies, again, tells him to stay put. When he gets to the next point, again, Mikey is nowhere to be found. This is when Pies' phone dies. He goes up and down the street looking for him and doesn't find him. At that point, there's nothing more that he can do, so he comes back to the compound.
The next day, yesterday, Mikey comes in later than usual. He's usually in around half past eleven or so, but this day, he came in at a quarter to one. He seems fine. In fact, I didn't even know he was in an accident all day long. He takes Chef aside and tells him that he has been in accident. Chef tells him that if he needs to take the day off, he can. Mikey says no and continues to prep for the day.
It was a weird day all of the way around. I didn't have a lot to do, but I was kind of in the weeds. I was working hot apps after a few days on saute, so I had to check all of my mis en place, and Jo-jo didn't bother to clean the fryer, so I had to do that as well.
At five, we break for dinner. We always have around a half hour or forty five minutes for dinner. Mikey tells Pies that he's going to go to the store and asks if Pies needs anything. Pies tells him to grab him a Gatorade. And off Mikey goes.
At half past five, we all come back to the kitchen to set up our stations and get ready for the beginning of service at six o'clock. One by one we all come back. I was the second or third one back into the kitchen. At twenty to five, Mikey hasn't shown up. I start setting up his station, because I want to organize the reach in refridgerator with my own proteins and things. At a quarter to six, Chef and Pies start to wrap the tuna with the shoestring potato. At ten to six, Pies, Chef and other people from the restaurant start to try to call Mikey. No answer. We call the hospital and the police. The pastry chef who left the restaurant hours ago hops in her car and begins searching the island.
At six o'clock, Chef makes the call. I'm to move over to saute and Jo-jo moves over to hot apps and Brit comes in from her day off and works garde manager. But still, the question remains. Where is Mikey?
We call his roommate. She says that she looked in his room and all of his stuff is packed. We find out that he made comments to her last night that he feels unlucky on the island this year.
Minutes after hanging up with his roommate, she calls back and tells us that he's on his way to the airport. Chef's wife immediately hops in the car and finds him there. He's on his way home. By home, I don't mean his apartment on the island. I mean home as in upstate New York.
We're all worried as hell. We don't know if everything is alright. We don't know if he hit his head really hard when the car hit him and he isn't thinking straight. All we know is that we're staring down the pipe at a hundred and fifty dinners, half of the cooks on the line are now working a station that they weren't prepared to work that night, and something is wrong with our compadre.
It was a tough night. I killed three proteins. I overcooked two trout and a flounder. We were all sweating bullets and to make it worse, it wasn't two turns of the dining room. It was one HUGE push. At seven o'clock, we only had orders for ten people.
Apparently when Chef's wife saw Mikey at the airport, she asked the police to not let him get on the plane and to take him to the hospital, because what he was doing as so out of character for him. Right before he got on the plane though, she asked him, holding onto his shoulders and looking straight into his eyes, "Do you know what you are doing?" His response was, "yes."
So here we are, two men down in the kitchen. Chef decided to close on Tuesday so that we can all sort of recover from all that has happened, and so that we do all get a day off.
It sucks. We all really like Mikey. Pies said it best that he feels like one of his best friend was killed in a car accident, but is still alive somehow. Mikey added a lot to the kitchen and I really do hope he is alright. We know that he's not coming back though. For me, it definitely has kitchen repercussions. This makes me the saute guy seven days a week, and I'm the only guy who is going to be thinking up staff meals. No one else really puts much effort into staff meal. One guy does nothing, even if he's assigned to help with it. Another guy just has shitty ideas and shitty execution, so I don't want him doing it.
So, that's the news from the Gray Lady. We're living in interesting times here, and hopefully they'll calm down so I can enjoy my working vacation.
Tuesday, July 8, 2008
Day 50: Check, RAISE!
Listening: We were just wasting time. Let the hours roll by, Doing nothing for the fun. A little taste of the good life, whether right or wrong, makes us want to stay, stay, stay, stay, stay for a while.
What's my problem? Tom Nevers is too far away.
Since we kicked the graceless rhinoceros to the curb, the schedule has been switched up a little bit. From today forward, I'm working saute four days a week and hot apps two days a week. This essentially makes saute my station and hot apps Jo-jo's. I've been rocking saute, but I've been looking at some of the food that Jo-jo has been putting up and I'm not at all impressed.
It makes me angry when I work a station and the guy who is working on the days that I'm not working it is putting up inferior looking plates. In the restaurant business, consistency is a big thing. If there's such a big swing of quality and beauty on nights, what are the guests supposed to believe about the food?
The thing is that I try to help coach Jo-jo, but he doesn't want my help or any of the knowledge that I can bring forth. He has an answer for everything, and doesn't really want to step it up. He's frantic, not urgent.
In the kitchen, I feel that one must be composed, but work with a sense of urgency. When you work franticly, your hands shake and you're not nearly as precise, and thus, your food looks like shit. Not only does it piss me off when I put up food that looks like shit, but it pisses me off when the guy next to me is putting up shit. We're all in this together. Although it's Chef's name on the restaurant and on the menu, it's our food leaving the kitchen. From the salads to the desserts, it's all of our names on the plates. When we leave here, we'll say that we worked here. And if we talked to someone who ate here, and they had a lackluster meal, then that reflects on us.
To be honest, I like working saute. I like it much more than cooking hot apps. There are three potential bad asses who can work saute (Papi, Mikey and myself). There are two bad asses (Mikey and myself) who can work hot apps. With the rhinoceros gone, we need to fill in the grill station. Papi is over there now. On his day off, Pies moves to the grill from the middle station and Mikey moves over. So essentially, we have no choice other than to give Jo-jo more shifts on hot apps. If it meant that the food would come out better and the station would be better equipped, then I would rather work hot apps and find a way to fill saute another way. I would rather stick Brit, the other intern, on hot apps, because she listens and she's kind of a sponge. She soaks up everything you show and tell her.
I dunno. In the end it's Chef's decision, as is everything that goes on in that kitchen. Let me tell you about another....
I go into work yesterday, and Chef asks me to step into the dining room to have a little chat. He proceeds to tell me that he thinks I'm doing a great job, and that he really likes how I've stepped up since the rhinoceros left. He said that I'm doing an especially amazing job as a person who is coming to the island for the first time and who is working his first season at this restaurant. He informs me that he was talking with the co-owner of the restaurant, a.k.a. his wife, and they both think that I'm doing a great job, adding a lot to the team, and that I have a great attitude. So they bumped up my pay! Yep, I got a raise less than 50 days on the job! I realize that it's only a 10% raise, but it'll give me that much more money to travel with. If I go to southeast Asia, the amount more I'll be getting a week could be living expenses for three days.
When I told Linh, she kind of put it in perspective. She said to me that it's kind of amazing how I went from getting fired from Chez for my poor attitude to getting a pay raise in Nantucket for my great attitude. Pretty funny, huh?
So, all in all, I'm liking almost everyone I work with. I'm enjoying my work. The only thing that's just okay is my social life.
Today was my day off. For the past few days, I have been waking up a little late, which means that I haven't been leaving the compound to get coffee or anything in the morning. I, for a mere few days, was a factory worker, as Sam calls it. I wake up, punch the clock, and go home. Today, I was determined to get things done, first and foremost, and then to go relax.
I actually woke up when I wanted to, at ten in the morning, made some phone calls, and got out of the house by eleven. I rode down to the grocery store and picked up some snacks for my post-service munchies. For lunch, I stopped at a pizza place that I read about in "Yesterday's Island," the free Nantucket weekly paper. There was a whole article on pizza places on the island and this one was mentioned. I had two slices and a red Powerade. It cost me $10.50. Ten-mutha-fuckin-fifty. Yeah. Luckily, each of the slices was as big as my head, so big, in fact, that I couldn't finish them. I got through half of the second slice before I called it quits. It wasn't fantastic pizza by any means, but it did the job for lunch.
By the time I got back to the compound, put everything away, went to the library to look at their travel book section, and came back to change, it was after two o'clock. So, I got back on my bike and headed to the beach.
I've been to a few beaches here on Nantucket. Brant Point, Jetties and Steps are all really close to the compound, and they're all north shore beaches. I've been to Surfside which is a south shore beach. But, I have heard that all of these beaches get pretty packed during the season. I knew that I didn't want to deal with the crowds, so I headed to Nobadeer Beach, or what I thought was Nobadeer Beach.
Nobadeer is on the same stretch of coast as Surfside, but a little closer to the airport. The surf is strong, and the sand is nice. I'm not entirely sure if it was, in fact, Nobadeer Beach. I just took the last left before I got to Surfside, and rode until I saw a little bike rack and a stairway down to the beach. The road bent and went further, but I decided to just stop there.
The beach itself was beautiful. I don't know why, but I opted out of bringing my camera, but I totally should have. The beach was populated, but I had enough space to myself. I could see the sand and the ocean, not just beach chairs and umbrellas. The waves were big enough to make a nice crashing noise. It was really quite beautiful. After being at the beach for an hour, I realized that if I had gone up the beach another hundred meters or so, I would have had much more eye candy.
A little aside. You know, it seems like almost every girl on the beach has been issued a bikini. This is both a good and a bad thing. When it's a good thing, I think, "G'damn!" When it's a bad thing, I think, "Jeez, you should really put that, and I mean all of that, away." Luckily, I was thinking "G'damn!" much more than I thought, "Jeez, you should really put that away."
Today, I was determined to get into the water. Back at Crane's beach on the north shore of MA, the water was so cold that I would get into the water with Sam up to the top of my thighs, but when the water got up to the boys, they retreated, and so did I. At Nobadeer, the water was much warmer, and for the first time in years, I was submerged in ocean waters. To be honest, I can't remember the last time I was completely under water in the open ocean. Next time someone comes out to the island to visit me, I have to take them there.
I spent from a quarter to three until about six o'clock at the beach. I spent time napping and time reading. The entire time, I spent with my iPod firmly attached to my dome, looking up only to notice the occasional eye candy. It was a thoroughly enjoyable experience.
While I was out during the day, I saw that there was a fair going on in Tom Nevers, a town on the southwest shore of Nantucket. I decided that it would be a cool thing to do. So I came home, changed and tried to figure out a way to get there. Originally, I thought I would take the bus to Tom Nevers Road, but when I got to the bus stop, I was told that it was a good hour hike from the bus stop to the fair. I was crushed, so I just decided to come home after a sandwich and some ice cream. So here I am.
Nantucket life is going much better and work, though hard, is satisfying. I just kind of need to work on getting out there and meeting some people who might want to hang out on my days off, because this whole by myself at the beach could be so much better if I had someone chillin' next to me. We don't have to talk or anything, they could just be my beach wing-person.
Anyhow I've written enough. It's show and tell time.
My new favorite burn. It's from an oil pop.
The Anti-pirates have arrived! Instead of eye patches and peg legs, they have popped collars and lapdogs.
Boats and bikes. That's Nantucket.
This is where I sit and read as I do laundry. I hang out on this step a lot. Usually there isn't a boat on the left there, but I guess the season is in full swing.
A hazy Nantucket sunset.
What's my problem? Tom Nevers is too far away.
Since we kicked the graceless rhinoceros to the curb, the schedule has been switched up a little bit. From today forward, I'm working saute four days a week and hot apps two days a week. This essentially makes saute my station and hot apps Jo-jo's. I've been rocking saute, but I've been looking at some of the food that Jo-jo has been putting up and I'm not at all impressed.
It makes me angry when I work a station and the guy who is working on the days that I'm not working it is putting up inferior looking plates. In the restaurant business, consistency is a big thing. If there's such a big swing of quality and beauty on nights, what are the guests supposed to believe about the food?
The thing is that I try to help coach Jo-jo, but he doesn't want my help or any of the knowledge that I can bring forth. He has an answer for everything, and doesn't really want to step it up. He's frantic, not urgent.
In the kitchen, I feel that one must be composed, but work with a sense of urgency. When you work franticly, your hands shake and you're not nearly as precise, and thus, your food looks like shit. Not only does it piss me off when I put up food that looks like shit, but it pisses me off when the guy next to me is putting up shit. We're all in this together. Although it's Chef's name on the restaurant and on the menu, it's our food leaving the kitchen. From the salads to the desserts, it's all of our names on the plates. When we leave here, we'll say that we worked here. And if we talked to someone who ate here, and they had a lackluster meal, then that reflects on us.
To be honest, I like working saute. I like it much more than cooking hot apps. There are three potential bad asses who can work saute (Papi, Mikey and myself). There are two bad asses (Mikey and myself) who can work hot apps. With the rhinoceros gone, we need to fill in the grill station. Papi is over there now. On his day off, Pies moves to the grill from the middle station and Mikey moves over. So essentially, we have no choice other than to give Jo-jo more shifts on hot apps. If it meant that the food would come out better and the station would be better equipped, then I would rather work hot apps and find a way to fill saute another way. I would rather stick Brit, the other intern, on hot apps, because she listens and she's kind of a sponge. She soaks up everything you show and tell her.
I dunno. In the end it's Chef's decision, as is everything that goes on in that kitchen. Let me tell you about another....
I go into work yesterday, and Chef asks me to step into the dining room to have a little chat. He proceeds to tell me that he thinks I'm doing a great job, and that he really likes how I've stepped up since the rhinoceros left. He said that I'm doing an especially amazing job as a person who is coming to the island for the first time and who is working his first season at this restaurant. He informs me that he was talking with the co-owner of the restaurant, a.k.a. his wife, and they both think that I'm doing a great job, adding a lot to the team, and that I have a great attitude. So they bumped up my pay! Yep, I got a raise less than 50 days on the job! I realize that it's only a 10% raise, but it'll give me that much more money to travel with. If I go to southeast Asia, the amount more I'll be getting a week could be living expenses for three days.
When I told Linh, she kind of put it in perspective. She said to me that it's kind of amazing how I went from getting fired from Chez for my poor attitude to getting a pay raise in Nantucket for my great attitude. Pretty funny, huh?
So, all in all, I'm liking almost everyone I work with. I'm enjoying my work. The only thing that's just okay is my social life.
Today was my day off. For the past few days, I have been waking up a little late, which means that I haven't been leaving the compound to get coffee or anything in the morning. I, for a mere few days, was a factory worker, as Sam calls it. I wake up, punch the clock, and go home. Today, I was determined to get things done, first and foremost, and then to go relax.
I actually woke up when I wanted to, at ten in the morning, made some phone calls, and got out of the house by eleven. I rode down to the grocery store and picked up some snacks for my post-service munchies. For lunch, I stopped at a pizza place that I read about in "Yesterday's Island," the free Nantucket weekly paper. There was a whole article on pizza places on the island and this one was mentioned. I had two slices and a red Powerade. It cost me $10.50. Ten-mutha-fuckin-fifty. Yeah. Luckily, each of the slices was as big as my head, so big, in fact, that I couldn't finish them. I got through half of the second slice before I called it quits. It wasn't fantastic pizza by any means, but it did the job for lunch.
By the time I got back to the compound, put everything away, went to the library to look at their travel book section, and came back to change, it was after two o'clock. So, I got back on my bike and headed to the beach.
I've been to a few beaches here on Nantucket. Brant Point, Jetties and Steps are all really close to the compound, and they're all north shore beaches. I've been to Surfside which is a south shore beach. But, I have heard that all of these beaches get pretty packed during the season. I knew that I didn't want to deal with the crowds, so I headed to Nobadeer Beach, or what I thought was Nobadeer Beach.
Nobadeer is on the same stretch of coast as Surfside, but a little closer to the airport. The surf is strong, and the sand is nice. I'm not entirely sure if it was, in fact, Nobadeer Beach. I just took the last left before I got to Surfside, and rode until I saw a little bike rack and a stairway down to the beach. The road bent and went further, but I decided to just stop there.
The beach itself was beautiful. I don't know why, but I opted out of bringing my camera, but I totally should have. The beach was populated, but I had enough space to myself. I could see the sand and the ocean, not just beach chairs and umbrellas. The waves were big enough to make a nice crashing noise. It was really quite beautiful. After being at the beach for an hour, I realized that if I had gone up the beach another hundred meters or so, I would have had much more eye candy.
A little aside. You know, it seems like almost every girl on the beach has been issued a bikini. This is both a good and a bad thing. When it's a good thing, I think, "G'damn!" When it's a bad thing, I think, "Jeez, you should really put that, and I mean all of that, away." Luckily, I was thinking "G'damn!" much more than I thought, "Jeez, you should really put that away."
Today, I was determined to get into the water. Back at Crane's beach on the north shore of MA, the water was so cold that I would get into the water with Sam up to the top of my thighs, but when the water got up to the boys, they retreated, and so did I. At Nobadeer, the water was much warmer, and for the first time in years, I was submerged in ocean waters. To be honest, I can't remember the last time I was completely under water in the open ocean. Next time someone comes out to the island to visit me, I have to take them there.
I spent from a quarter to three until about six o'clock at the beach. I spent time napping and time reading. The entire time, I spent with my iPod firmly attached to my dome, looking up only to notice the occasional eye candy. It was a thoroughly enjoyable experience.
While I was out during the day, I saw that there was a fair going on in Tom Nevers, a town on the southwest shore of Nantucket. I decided that it would be a cool thing to do. So I came home, changed and tried to figure out a way to get there. Originally, I thought I would take the bus to Tom Nevers Road, but when I got to the bus stop, I was told that it was a good hour hike from the bus stop to the fair. I was crushed, so I just decided to come home after a sandwich and some ice cream. So here I am.
Nantucket life is going much better and work, though hard, is satisfying. I just kind of need to work on getting out there and meeting some people who might want to hang out on my days off, because this whole by myself at the beach could be so much better if I had someone chillin' next to me. We don't have to talk or anything, they could just be my beach wing-person.
Anyhow I've written enough. It's show and tell time.
My new favorite burn. It's from an oil pop.
The Anti-pirates have arrived! Instead of eye patches and peg legs, they have popped collars and lapdogs.
Boats and bikes. That's Nantucket.
This is where I sit and read as I do laundry. I hang out on this step a lot. Usually there isn't a boat on the left there, but I guess the season is in full swing.
A hazy Nantucket sunset.
Friday, July 4, 2008
Day 46: Ding Dong, The Witch Is Dead!
Listening: Broken down kitchen at the top of the stairs. Can I mix in with your affairs? Share a smoke. Make a joke. Grasp and reach for a leg of hope.
What's my problem? I'm not even supposed to BE here.
Originally, I was going to title the post "Hygiene." I would have talked about how I got my knife so sharp that I could shave the hair off of the back of my arm with it. I would have told you that I have the sharpest knife in the kitchen. I would have also told you a bit about how the graceless rhinoceros, the other day, went into her room, dropped her towel in front of her roommate and proceeded to insert a tampon in front of her as well as apply some Vagisil. I would have told you all about the disgust and the reaction of Brittany, the roommate who was exposed to such an attrocity. I would have told you all of that, but I won't.
Instead, this post is titled "Ding Dong, The Witch Is Dead." Can you guess what happened? No? Well, I'll tell you.
Yesterday, the graceless rhinoceros gets a call from her boyfriend. He's been fired from his job for being a douchebag. So they decide that they're leaving. She gives Chef ten minutes notice. That's right. Ten minutes. Not two weeks. Not two days. Ten minutes. Before we know it, she's packed up and headed to the boat.
Everyone was pretty pleased that she would be leaving, but it wasn't without repercussions. Papi had to work that night. He was supposed to have the day off, and intended on going surfing because the waves were supposed to be fantastic that day. Instead, he was banging out two hundred and four dinners.
For me, I was supposed to have today off. Linh was supposed to fly down and hang out with me for the day. Instead, I had to call her off and work tonight. To be honest, it would have been nice to see a friendly face around here that knows me, but I think that in the long run, it's better that the rhinoceros is gone.
Right now I'm pretty tired. I have been working a lot, but I guess that's what I signed up for. It's a good thing that I'm putting away three quarters of my paycheck. Anyhow that's all the news that's fit to be printed at the moment. Hopefully I'll have more eventful things to tell you once I get some rest. The Fourth felt just like any other day. Hopefully, my next day off will be fun and relaxing like today was supposed to be.
What's my problem? I'm not even supposed to BE here.
Originally, I was going to title the post "Hygiene." I would have talked about how I got my knife so sharp that I could shave the hair off of the back of my arm with it. I would have told you that I have the sharpest knife in the kitchen. I would have also told you a bit about how the graceless rhinoceros, the other day, went into her room, dropped her towel in front of her roommate and proceeded to insert a tampon in front of her as well as apply some Vagisil. I would have told you all about the disgust and the reaction of Brittany, the roommate who was exposed to such an attrocity. I would have told you all of that, but I won't.
Instead, this post is titled "Ding Dong, The Witch Is Dead." Can you guess what happened? No? Well, I'll tell you.
Yesterday, the graceless rhinoceros gets a call from her boyfriend. He's been fired from his job for being a douchebag. So they decide that they're leaving. She gives Chef ten minutes notice. That's right. Ten minutes. Not two weeks. Not two days. Ten minutes. Before we know it, she's packed up and headed to the boat.
Everyone was pretty pleased that she would be leaving, but it wasn't without repercussions. Papi had to work that night. He was supposed to have the day off, and intended on going surfing because the waves were supposed to be fantastic that day. Instead, he was banging out two hundred and four dinners.
For me, I was supposed to have today off. Linh was supposed to fly down and hang out with me for the day. Instead, I had to call her off and work tonight. To be honest, it would have been nice to see a friendly face around here that knows me, but I think that in the long run, it's better that the rhinoceros is gone.
Right now I'm pretty tired. I have been working a lot, but I guess that's what I signed up for. It's a good thing that I'm putting away three quarters of my paycheck. Anyhow that's all the news that's fit to be printed at the moment. Hopefully I'll have more eventful things to tell you once I get some rest. The Fourth felt just like any other day. Hopefully, my next day off will be fun and relaxing like today was supposed to be.
Tuesday, July 1, 2008
Day 43: MAN DOWN!
Listening: I'm afraid, and I can't breathe, and I'm in love with you, but you are not with me. 'Cause I have put so much into a life I made too much about you now to lie.
What's my problem? Keeping hydrated.
It's been an exciting few days here on Nantucket. The temperature outside has been right around seventy five degrees with around eighty percent humidity for the past four days. With the burners on and ten plates on each of my pickups, it feels like it's at least a hundred and thirty degrees in the kitchen. It's so hot that I have used my little wrist bands every single day for the past week. I don't have enough to cover me until I'm ready to do laundry, so I'll have to go without soon.
On one of the first of the sticky, nasty days, we got a little service-time visit from the health inspector. Now, for those of you who don't know, it's extremely rare for you to get a visit from the health inspector DURING service. They usually come in the morning or during prep time, at least as far as my experience goes and as far as I have heard from other people. So, he was there and the tickets where ticking in. We were running service as usual and the only thing that the health inspector could call us on was that one guy wasn't wearing his hat (he had taken it off to eat staff meal and forgot to put it back on), and we were handling the food a little too much. He didn't like that we used our fingers to place the food on the plate. So he told us that we had to wear latex gloves on the line.
Do you know what it feels like to wear latex gloves when it's like a hundred and thirty degrees in the kitchen? It feels like you have a swamp in the palm of your hand. For a while, I would wear two pairs of gloves at a time so that when I wanted to change gloves, it was easier to slip a new glove over the glove that was directly on my hand. When you only wear one glove and you take it off, your hand is so drenched with sweat that it's impossible to slip another glove on. You can try to dry your hands with towels, paper towels, or even in front of a fan, and it will never be dry enough to get another glove on. Trust me, I've tried.
So along with the heat, I've been wearing latex gloves during service. I hate it so much, but I kind of have to do it. What really ends up happening is that we wear gloves to start service and then once eight o'clock rolls around, the gloves come off. We're really just wearing them until the health inspector comes around again. Once he does and sees us wearing the gloves and marks us as being compliant, the gloves come off permanently. What he doesn't understand is that we're making artisanal food. We are not making institutional food. We are hand crafting each and every one of the dishes that leaves the kitchen. We need to be hands on. When I have the gloves on, I can't feel my food. I don't know how micro greens are going to fall off of my finger tips. I can't feel if I have any residue on my gloves. I can't feel a damn thing. Things that normally stick to my fingers a little bit don't stick, and things that normally don't do. It's totally messed up.
So, back to the heat in the kitchen. It's been crazy hot. Almost as hot as it is on the hot line at Chez Henri. It could even be right on par. It's a tough call though. Pies on the middle station and Mikey on the saute station are both dripping with sweat. I'm dripping with sweat on hot apps. Two nights ago, I'm getting rocked. Things aren't going well for me. I can barely keep my head above water. At about half past eight, Mikey turns to me and asks if I can cover him for a minute. He looks awful. So, I jump on saute and he heads outside. I have no clue where he's at in the tickets. His fish looks like shit, I have no clue what he has that's ready. Jo-jo slides over to cover hot apps, and I eventually dig myself out on saute. Meanwhile, Mikey is having a panic attack outside. Apparently he has an inner ear condition which occasionally gives him vertigo. This happened to him as a result of the extreme heat and lack of hydration. The vertigo caused him to panic, and he had to be taken to the hospital.
It was pretty intense at the time. I've never had anyone have to leave the line for anything like that. To be honest, we were all pretty concerned when it went down. Luckily, Mikey was okay, but it was quite a scare. What was good was that after the jarring event of Mikey leaving the line, I was able to dig out on a station that I was relatively new at. I was putting up almost all of my orders on the fly, but at the same time, I put up some nice fish too. I was working fast and efficiently. I know I only work a day or two on saute, but I really do enjoy it much more than hot apps.
Speaking of hot apps, I put a special on the menu for the very first time. Two days ago, during prep, I was next to Chef as he butchered tuna. I asked him if he did anything with the chain meat (the meat of the tuna not on the loin that contains a lot of touch connective tissue). He said that sometimes he saves it, and other times, he pitches it. That day it was pretty nice, so I asked him if I could do a special. We brainstormed all day and looked at what we had in the walk in that was extra, and I came up with a dish. It was a curry vinaigrette tuna tartare in tomato water with pickled ginger and tempura fried eel. It was sexy as shit. My only regret is that I wasn't able to take a picture of the dish. I forgot to bring down my camera for service. I totally planned on it, but it just didn't happen. Anyhow, I was really proud of myself.
It was my day off today. I had a lot to do. I wanted to get some paperwork done and a haircut. I also wanted to make it to the beach. However, the fates conspired against me and not everything happened. I did get a haircut. The downside is that I couldn't get all of my paperwork done because I was missing some information, and it was a bit overcast all day, so going to the beach would have been a waste. So, one out of three ain't bad. To be honest, it might qualify as being one and a half out of three. At around five in the evening, the weather got really nice, so I headed down to the beach for an hour or so.
Well, it's getting late so I'll leave you with some more photos.
The beach at five o'clock.
My feet in the sand.
My new kicks.
Houses on the docks at dusk.
What's my problem? Keeping hydrated.
It's been an exciting few days here on Nantucket. The temperature outside has been right around seventy five degrees with around eighty percent humidity for the past four days. With the burners on and ten plates on each of my pickups, it feels like it's at least a hundred and thirty degrees in the kitchen. It's so hot that I have used my little wrist bands every single day for the past week. I don't have enough to cover me until I'm ready to do laundry, so I'll have to go without soon.
On one of the first of the sticky, nasty days, we got a little service-time visit from the health inspector. Now, for those of you who don't know, it's extremely rare for you to get a visit from the health inspector DURING service. They usually come in the morning or during prep time, at least as far as my experience goes and as far as I have heard from other people. So, he was there and the tickets where ticking in. We were running service as usual and the only thing that the health inspector could call us on was that one guy wasn't wearing his hat (he had taken it off to eat staff meal and forgot to put it back on), and we were handling the food a little too much. He didn't like that we used our fingers to place the food on the plate. So he told us that we had to wear latex gloves on the line.
Do you know what it feels like to wear latex gloves when it's like a hundred and thirty degrees in the kitchen? It feels like you have a swamp in the palm of your hand. For a while, I would wear two pairs of gloves at a time so that when I wanted to change gloves, it was easier to slip a new glove over the glove that was directly on my hand. When you only wear one glove and you take it off, your hand is so drenched with sweat that it's impossible to slip another glove on. You can try to dry your hands with towels, paper towels, or even in front of a fan, and it will never be dry enough to get another glove on. Trust me, I've tried.
So along with the heat, I've been wearing latex gloves during service. I hate it so much, but I kind of have to do it. What really ends up happening is that we wear gloves to start service and then once eight o'clock rolls around, the gloves come off. We're really just wearing them until the health inspector comes around again. Once he does and sees us wearing the gloves and marks us as being compliant, the gloves come off permanently. What he doesn't understand is that we're making artisanal food. We are not making institutional food. We are hand crafting each and every one of the dishes that leaves the kitchen. We need to be hands on. When I have the gloves on, I can't feel my food. I don't know how micro greens are going to fall off of my finger tips. I can't feel if I have any residue on my gloves. I can't feel a damn thing. Things that normally stick to my fingers a little bit don't stick, and things that normally don't do. It's totally messed up.
So, back to the heat in the kitchen. It's been crazy hot. Almost as hot as it is on the hot line at Chez Henri. It could even be right on par. It's a tough call though. Pies on the middle station and Mikey on the saute station are both dripping with sweat. I'm dripping with sweat on hot apps. Two nights ago, I'm getting rocked. Things aren't going well for me. I can barely keep my head above water. At about half past eight, Mikey turns to me and asks if I can cover him for a minute. He looks awful. So, I jump on saute and he heads outside. I have no clue where he's at in the tickets. His fish looks like shit, I have no clue what he has that's ready. Jo-jo slides over to cover hot apps, and I eventually dig myself out on saute. Meanwhile, Mikey is having a panic attack outside. Apparently he has an inner ear condition which occasionally gives him vertigo. This happened to him as a result of the extreme heat and lack of hydration. The vertigo caused him to panic, and he had to be taken to the hospital.
It was pretty intense at the time. I've never had anyone have to leave the line for anything like that. To be honest, we were all pretty concerned when it went down. Luckily, Mikey was okay, but it was quite a scare. What was good was that after the jarring event of Mikey leaving the line, I was able to dig out on a station that I was relatively new at. I was putting up almost all of my orders on the fly, but at the same time, I put up some nice fish too. I was working fast and efficiently. I know I only work a day or two on saute, but I really do enjoy it much more than hot apps.
Speaking of hot apps, I put a special on the menu for the very first time. Two days ago, during prep, I was next to Chef as he butchered tuna. I asked him if he did anything with the chain meat (the meat of the tuna not on the loin that contains a lot of touch connective tissue). He said that sometimes he saves it, and other times, he pitches it. That day it was pretty nice, so I asked him if I could do a special. We brainstormed all day and looked at what we had in the walk in that was extra, and I came up with a dish. It was a curry vinaigrette tuna tartare in tomato water with pickled ginger and tempura fried eel. It was sexy as shit. My only regret is that I wasn't able to take a picture of the dish. I forgot to bring down my camera for service. I totally planned on it, but it just didn't happen. Anyhow, I was really proud of myself.
It was my day off today. I had a lot to do. I wanted to get some paperwork done and a haircut. I also wanted to make it to the beach. However, the fates conspired against me and not everything happened. I did get a haircut. The downside is that I couldn't get all of my paperwork done because I was missing some information, and it was a bit overcast all day, so going to the beach would have been a waste. So, one out of three ain't bad. To be honest, it might qualify as being one and a half out of three. At around five in the evening, the weather got really nice, so I headed down to the beach for an hour or so.
Well, it's getting late so I'll leave you with some more photos.
The beach at five o'clock.
My feet in the sand.
My new kicks.
Houses on the docks at dusk.
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