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

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


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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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



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

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


Brit and her fish.


Lindsay and one of her fish.


Papi and one of his fish.


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


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


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


Papi, Katarina and I at the staff party.


Sandy and Rob at the staff party.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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



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

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

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

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


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


Lindsay, Brit, Pies, Sandy & Pablo


Lindsay and Brit check each other for breast cancer


A view of Downtown Nantucket from a widow's walk


Me at the beach


Brit being tatted


Pies adding ass hair to Brit


Brit's tramp stamp


The waves at Bartlett Farm Beach


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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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


Iria and I at the Cisco Brewery


A pint that's made from corn!


Iria during sunset at Cisco


Cisco surfers catching a wave at sunset


The sun beginning to rise at Brant Point


Iria on the beach at sunrise


Sunrise on the fishing boat bobbing sea


The first yacht out in the morning


Iria and the lighthouse


Iria and and I in the breezy morning

Day 91: Cannonball!

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

What's my problem? Waterlogged flounder.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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


Our sommelier with a fake mustache.


The crew raiding Soupy's ice cream shop.


Lindsay thinks ice cream is finger-lickin' good!


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


Brooke and Papi.


Lindsay wielding the scoop.

Day 81: I Have A Girlfriend?

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

What's my problem? Not enough to say.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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