Listening: I feel the time has come like a remedy. I feel the time has come. We're shaking the spear of love in the city.
What's my problem? I don't know all of the songs.
So, the last couple of days in the kitchen have gone much better. I'm back to thinking I can cook, thanks to some really well (meaning good not cooked through) cooked pieces of meat, some difficult but doable prep, and a chat with a friend.
Pies is acting somewhat easier over the past couple of days too. I don't know if he just got his period or if it's because his birthday is tomorrow, but he seems more chilled out, at least towards me. Then again, he was always chilled out to the other people in the kitchen. I still don't really trust him as far as I could throw him. I still have my eye on him. We'll see what happens over the next two weeks.
Thanksgiving plans have firmed up. It turns out that I'm cooking a non-traditional Thanksgiving meal with all of my friends that I don't work with. Heh heh heh. I think that there's gonna be some fish involved, some noodles... I'm thinking about searing off some duck breasts, making a cranberry ginger compote and maybe a little butternut squash risotto. I actually have to go to the grocery store tomorrow to pick up a few things that I'm going to want to use.
And in other news, I have swapped iPods with one of my friends here on the island. It's pretty cool getting to listen to what someone else is plugged into most of the time. I wish I had more time to listen to music, but it seems like I'm limited to the few hours after I wake up and before I go to work, and the few hours I'm awake after work. I've been delighted over the past fifteen minutes, I have heard both the Squirrel Nut Zippers as well as Blackalicious. Wonderful. There's a good mix of music that I am familiar with, as well as music that I have never heard before in my life.
Anyhow I'm going to bed now. I'll listen to the iPod for another half an hour as I read more of The Namesake before I head off to sleep. I'm sure it'll be quite a trip.
Wednesday, November 26, 2008
Saturday, November 22, 2008
Day 187: Doubt
Listening: If it were up to me, we would fall in love again. It wouldn't have to end, if it were up to me.
What's my problem? I really could suck.
So I'm having one of those periods where either I am screwing up a lot or I feel like I'm screwing up a lot. The times are slow, and I should have everything absolutely perfect. But, man, I'm getting caught up on this and that. I'm not sure if it's all me, or if it's a combination of my own lack of focus coupled with the overactive eye that Pies has on me. I feel like I'm leaving here on somewhat of a bad note. I have two and a half weeks to clean up my game and be the cook I know I am.
That's a problem right now. All this has me feeling that I can't cook. I know that it's not true, but I just feel in certain moments that I have no business in the kitchen doing what I'm doing. For a moment, it makes me not want to be in the kitchen, with these people, or even in a kitchen at all.
I know it's a wrong thought. There's nothing I love more than cooking for people. I love the pressure of the line, the crunch of being in the weeds during prep, and the satisfaction of pushing a beautiful, delicious plate of food through the pass to the runner. I love feeding people. When I go through a bad stretch, it makes me doubt that. It's a rough jarring feeling in me.
I don't know what this is or what's going on, but I hope it's for my greater good. I hope that this is the dip I usually experience before I spike. By this, I mean that I hope that, like in my past, this is a moment of weakness and vulnerability that directly precedes me learning a whole lot and taking my game to the next level. It's happened before, and I hope that it's happening again. But, for now, I'm stuck in a bit of a rut.
Now that I've just mentally vomited all over the internet, I guess I should talk about other things....
It's cold here. It was cold up in Boston when I was up there for four days, but down here on the island, it feels even colder. I've been holed up in my apartment for the past couple of days, only leaving to go to work. I wished that I had brought my wool socks down from Boston when I came back. Lately my feet have felt like rocks. It doesn't help that there's a draft coming through the window next to the couch where I usually sit. Luckily, according to my widget, it should be getting a little bit warmer tomorrow and even warmer as the week goes on. Maybe if it gets warm enough and I actually have a reason to, I'll venture out into town.
This is a bit of an odd week. Usually, I have Tuesday and Wednesday off, as the restaurant is usually closed those days. This week, since it's Thanksgiving on Thursday, we're only closed on Thanksgiving. As far as what I'm doing for Thanksgiving, I have no clue. Jon-Jon invited the kitchen staff to his place for Thanksgiving, but, given my current slump, I really don't want to be around people that I work with. I very well just might go it alone. From what I hear, there will be a couple of place in town open for dinner. I could just stay in and have my own little movie marathon of the "Up Series." But really, I have no clue what I'm going to do. All I know is that I won't be cooking a turkey personally, as I have over the past couple of years. Thanksgiving is my second favorite holiday, but I guess I can go one year with a blah Thanksgiving. I think really what I'll be missing is making and eating turkey congee with the turkey carcass.
Anyhow I'm going to end this probably pretty depressing post in order to go to my bed and read what seems to be a pretty good book. Hopefully, my bed will be warmer than this couch. Man, I'd like a cup of coffee right now too....
What's my problem? I really could suck.
So I'm having one of those periods where either I am screwing up a lot or I feel like I'm screwing up a lot. The times are slow, and I should have everything absolutely perfect. But, man, I'm getting caught up on this and that. I'm not sure if it's all me, or if it's a combination of my own lack of focus coupled with the overactive eye that Pies has on me. I feel like I'm leaving here on somewhat of a bad note. I have two and a half weeks to clean up my game and be the cook I know I am.
That's a problem right now. All this has me feeling that I can't cook. I know that it's not true, but I just feel in certain moments that I have no business in the kitchen doing what I'm doing. For a moment, it makes me not want to be in the kitchen, with these people, or even in a kitchen at all.
I know it's a wrong thought. There's nothing I love more than cooking for people. I love the pressure of the line, the crunch of being in the weeds during prep, and the satisfaction of pushing a beautiful, delicious plate of food through the pass to the runner. I love feeding people. When I go through a bad stretch, it makes me doubt that. It's a rough jarring feeling in me.
I don't know what this is or what's going on, but I hope it's for my greater good. I hope that this is the dip I usually experience before I spike. By this, I mean that I hope that, like in my past, this is a moment of weakness and vulnerability that directly precedes me learning a whole lot and taking my game to the next level. It's happened before, and I hope that it's happening again. But, for now, I'm stuck in a bit of a rut.
Now that I've just mentally vomited all over the internet, I guess I should talk about other things....
It's cold here. It was cold up in Boston when I was up there for four days, but down here on the island, it feels even colder. I've been holed up in my apartment for the past couple of days, only leaving to go to work. I wished that I had brought my wool socks down from Boston when I came back. Lately my feet have felt like rocks. It doesn't help that there's a draft coming through the window next to the couch where I usually sit. Luckily, according to my widget, it should be getting a little bit warmer tomorrow and even warmer as the week goes on. Maybe if it gets warm enough and I actually have a reason to, I'll venture out into town.
This is a bit of an odd week. Usually, I have Tuesday and Wednesday off, as the restaurant is usually closed those days. This week, since it's Thanksgiving on Thursday, we're only closed on Thanksgiving. As far as what I'm doing for Thanksgiving, I have no clue. Jon-Jon invited the kitchen staff to his place for Thanksgiving, but, given my current slump, I really don't want to be around people that I work with. I very well just might go it alone. From what I hear, there will be a couple of place in town open for dinner. I could just stay in and have my own little movie marathon of the "Up Series." But really, I have no clue what I'm going to do. All I know is that I won't be cooking a turkey personally, as I have over the past couple of years. Thanksgiving is my second favorite holiday, but I guess I can go one year with a blah Thanksgiving. I think really what I'll be missing is making and eating turkey congee with the turkey carcass.
Anyhow I'm going to end this probably pretty depressing post in order to go to my bed and read what seems to be a pretty good book. Hopefully, my bed will be warmer than this couch. Man, I'd like a cup of coffee right now too....
Friday, November 21, 2008
Day 185: Back to Exile
Listening: The second that I feel your safe hands reaching out for mine, I slip away and out of sight. You've overstayed your time.
What's my problem? I miss my bed already.
Perhaps one of the most wonderful thing about these past few days was being in my own bed. I knew that the mattresses down here on the island sucked in the worst possible ways, but for the past four days, I realized just how wonderful my bed was. I slept more these past few days more than I ever should have. My time went something like this:
Open eyes. See that the time is nine o'clock. Close eyes. Decide my tasks can wait. Sleep. Open eyes. See that the time is half past ten. Close eyes. Pull blankets over head. Think about tasks. Decide tasks can wait. Sleep. Open eyes. See that the duvet is still over my head. Poke head out of duvet. See that the time is a little past noon. Sigh. Pull covers down past chest. Close eyes. Sigh. Get up and start the day. It was wonderful being nice and toasty warm. It was probably the simplest of pleasures.
There was room to sprawl out a bit (a double futon in Cambridge, as opposed to a single on the island), the warmth of the basement apartment, the warmth of my duvet, the six pillows... It all contributed to a wonderful few nights of sleep, sick or not.
Throughout the last few days, I turned the living room into what the Nantucket would equate with the "Take It Or Leave It." I pulled out boxes upon boxes. However, by the time I left this afternoon, it was almost as if I hadn't. There's a pile of crap under a table in the hallway, but other than that, there's no sign of the mess that had taken over.
I'm sure I could have gotten more done these past few days, but I was content just seeing my friends, shit shooting with my roomie, and hanging out in my bed. I had my fix of good ethnic food. I bought the new Dido CD (deluxe edition of course), put away a bunch of my clothes, and sorted out a bunch of old crap. I think that should all count for something. I come back to work fully rested, and almost over my ailment.
Also while I was off island, I got to see Nick & Norah's Infinite Playlist. It's a renter. I'm glad I saw it at the Somerville Theater, though. Only $7. It was a cute little movie, but it could have been so much better. The part played by Michael Cera could have been played by anyone. I was annoyed by the girl I should have been annoyed by. I was endeared to the girl I should have been endeared to, so I guess the movie was adequate in that matter. I just kind of wish that the love story had been escalated a bit more. I wish that the tension and that the stakes were higher. I knew it would be a little teen movie, but I was hoping that it would be a more adult teen movie. I felt like the "adult-ness" was pushed too hard.
On my way back to the island, I ran into three friends (aren't you proud of me? I now have more than two friends on the island. I have at least five.). It turned out that they had cruised up to Boston for the day and I didn't even know. They were also taking the last fast ferry back to the island.
These three girls are all very different. When I say different, I mean DIFFERENT. We have the Thai girl next door, the funny and bold Lithuanian, and the deadpan dry (and somehow still really funny) Korean. To be honest, I don't even really know if the Korean really likes me. It's hard for me to sort through her sense of humor. The other two seem to be quite friendly. There's a lot of networking going on between me and the Thai girl next door. She knows I'm going to southeast Asia and has a bunch of information to give me. She also has a cousin who wants to get into cooking who I may try to hook up with Chef for next season as a prep cook.
Anyhow, it's funny seeing them all together, even though in an ideal world, that's how it should be. Different people getting together and enjoying each other. It's nice. So, I chatted with them for the ride. They may be coming in to the restaurant sometime in the next few days. I look forward to it.
Speaking of the restaurant.... The reason I'm back on the island on Thursday night versus Friday early afternoon is because I'm going to have to be in the kitchen EARLY tomorrow morning. I have a ton of shit to do, as far as I can remember. Here's what my prep list for tomorrow looks like, just off the top of my head.
Brine/Marinate Pork Chops
Prep collard greens
Orzo
Cheese Sauce
Butcher buffalo
Potato galette
Trim Scallions
Trip & Braise beef cheeks
Champ Potatoes
Onion Ring dredge
Soak onion rings in buttermilk
Blanche spinach
Make cream reduction
Dice & blanche butternut squash
Season ricotta cheese
I feel like I'm buried. I guess I should get to sleep early, huh? I guess I should do that now, right? Okay. Off I go.
What's my problem? I miss my bed already.
Perhaps one of the most wonderful thing about these past few days was being in my own bed. I knew that the mattresses down here on the island sucked in the worst possible ways, but for the past four days, I realized just how wonderful my bed was. I slept more these past few days more than I ever should have. My time went something like this:
Open eyes. See that the time is nine o'clock. Close eyes. Decide my tasks can wait. Sleep. Open eyes. See that the time is half past ten. Close eyes. Pull blankets over head. Think about tasks. Decide tasks can wait. Sleep. Open eyes. See that the duvet is still over my head. Poke head out of duvet. See that the time is a little past noon. Sigh. Pull covers down past chest. Close eyes. Sigh. Get up and start the day. It was wonderful being nice and toasty warm. It was probably the simplest of pleasures.
There was room to sprawl out a bit (a double futon in Cambridge, as opposed to a single on the island), the warmth of the basement apartment, the warmth of my duvet, the six pillows... It all contributed to a wonderful few nights of sleep, sick or not.
Throughout the last few days, I turned the living room into what the Nantucket would equate with the "Take It Or Leave It." I pulled out boxes upon boxes. However, by the time I left this afternoon, it was almost as if I hadn't. There's a pile of crap under a table in the hallway, but other than that, there's no sign of the mess that had taken over.
I'm sure I could have gotten more done these past few days, but I was content just seeing my friends, shit shooting with my roomie, and hanging out in my bed. I had my fix of good ethnic food. I bought the new Dido CD (deluxe edition of course), put away a bunch of my clothes, and sorted out a bunch of old crap. I think that should all count for something. I come back to work fully rested, and almost over my ailment.
Also while I was off island, I got to see Nick & Norah's Infinite Playlist. It's a renter. I'm glad I saw it at the Somerville Theater, though. Only $7. It was a cute little movie, but it could have been so much better. The part played by Michael Cera could have been played by anyone. I was annoyed by the girl I should have been annoyed by. I was endeared to the girl I should have been endeared to, so I guess the movie was adequate in that matter. I just kind of wish that the love story had been escalated a bit more. I wish that the tension and that the stakes were higher. I knew it would be a little teen movie, but I was hoping that it would be a more adult teen movie. I felt like the "adult-ness" was pushed too hard.
On my way back to the island, I ran into three friends (aren't you proud of me? I now have more than two friends on the island. I have at least five.). It turned out that they had cruised up to Boston for the day and I didn't even know. They were also taking the last fast ferry back to the island.
These three girls are all very different. When I say different, I mean DIFFERENT. We have the Thai girl next door, the funny and bold Lithuanian, and the deadpan dry (and somehow still really funny) Korean. To be honest, I don't even really know if the Korean really likes me. It's hard for me to sort through her sense of humor. The other two seem to be quite friendly. There's a lot of networking going on between me and the Thai girl next door. She knows I'm going to southeast Asia and has a bunch of information to give me. She also has a cousin who wants to get into cooking who I may try to hook up with Chef for next season as a prep cook.
Anyhow, it's funny seeing them all together, even though in an ideal world, that's how it should be. Different people getting together and enjoying each other. It's nice. So, I chatted with them for the ride. They may be coming in to the restaurant sometime in the next few days. I look forward to it.
Speaking of the restaurant.... The reason I'm back on the island on Thursday night versus Friday early afternoon is because I'm going to have to be in the kitchen EARLY tomorrow morning. I have a ton of shit to do, as far as I can remember. Here's what my prep list for tomorrow looks like, just off the top of my head.
Brine/Marinate Pork Chops
Prep collard greens
Orzo
Cheese Sauce
Butcher buffalo
Potato galette
Trim Scallions
Trip & Braise beef cheeks
Champ Potatoes
Onion Ring dredge
Soak onion rings in buttermilk
Blanche spinach
Make cream reduction
Dice & blanche butternut squash
Season ricotta cheese
I feel like I'm buried. I guess I should get to sleep early, huh? I guess I should do that now, right? Okay. Off I go.
Wednesday, November 19, 2008
Day 184: Mementos... AKA I'm a Packrat.
Listening: And if you find, one day, find some freedom and relief, with this freedom maybe, maybe you will find some peace.
What's my problem? I keep too much crap.
Over the past few days I have been going through the boxes that I have in storage in an attempt to pare down my life. In the process, I have decided to let go of a number of things that include, but aren't limited to: two computer printers, one vintage 1996 Powermac, my soccer cleats, shin guards, & keeper gloves, a number of random stuffed toys, a circa 1985 VCR, a Zip drive (not to be confused with Zipcar, which is probably a zillion times more useful), a HUGE box of school supplies, a 900mHz cordless phone, cassettes of the Smashing Pumpkins "Siamese Dream" album and Moby's "Everything is Wrong" album, and a koosh ball. That's right. I said a koosh ball.
Among some of the more amusing finds (and things I kept) were a yearbook of the kids I counseled for their sixth grade camp, a letter from one of my best friends throughout high school telling me about the guy who she was dating, who she eventually married, and who now has a kid with, a letter from a girl dumping me on my birthday during my senior year of college, letters from the first girl I ever kissed, a million 2.5" floppy disks (some of which contain some of the stories I wrote in high school and college), copies of mix tapes I made for people (I was the king of the mix tape), photos of me when I was 4, 6, 12, 16, & 18, my senior year high school yearbook, a couple of my radio show playlists, and a citation from campus police for having an illegal party on campus.
It's been a tough few days mulling through all of this crap. I mean crap in the best possible way. I am a bit of a sentimentalist. I wish I wasn't. It would mean that I could throw away so much more crap. But I keep things that remind me of different things. I found glowsticks from one of the many times I saw DJ Icey, and some from when I went to the Area 2 tour and saw a crapload of DJs. All of those glowsticks, by the way, went into the trash. It's tough to prioritize your memories. I guess every so often, you have to do it. Dredge it all up and then re-prioritize them.
It was fun though, sending my friend from high school an e-mail about the letter I found about her and her would be husband, and a picture I e-mailed to the guy who was my best friend when I was 11 and just got back in touch with this summer. Fun little surprises. I wonder if someday, someone else is going to be digging through a box, will find a little piece of me and will call or e-mail me and will say, "Do you remember this? This was great."
What's my problem? I keep too much crap.
Over the past few days I have been going through the boxes that I have in storage in an attempt to pare down my life. In the process, I have decided to let go of a number of things that include, but aren't limited to: two computer printers, one vintage 1996 Powermac, my soccer cleats, shin guards, & keeper gloves, a number of random stuffed toys, a circa 1985 VCR, a Zip drive (not to be confused with Zipcar, which is probably a zillion times more useful), a HUGE box of school supplies, a 900mHz cordless phone, cassettes of the Smashing Pumpkins "Siamese Dream" album and Moby's "Everything is Wrong" album, and a koosh ball. That's right. I said a koosh ball.
Among some of the more amusing finds (and things I kept) were a yearbook of the kids I counseled for their sixth grade camp, a letter from one of my best friends throughout high school telling me about the guy who she was dating, who she eventually married, and who now has a kid with, a letter from a girl dumping me on my birthday during my senior year of college, letters from the first girl I ever kissed, a million 2.5" floppy disks (some of which contain some of the stories I wrote in high school and college), copies of mix tapes I made for people (I was the king of the mix tape), photos of me when I was 4, 6, 12, 16, & 18, my senior year high school yearbook, a couple of my radio show playlists, and a citation from campus police for having an illegal party on campus.
It's been a tough few days mulling through all of this crap. I mean crap in the best possible way. I am a bit of a sentimentalist. I wish I wasn't. It would mean that I could throw away so much more crap. But I keep things that remind me of different things. I found glowsticks from one of the many times I saw DJ Icey, and some from when I went to the Area 2 tour and saw a crapload of DJs. All of those glowsticks, by the way, went into the trash. It's tough to prioritize your memories. I guess every so often, you have to do it. Dredge it all up and then re-prioritize them.
It was fun though, sending my friend from high school an e-mail about the letter I found about her and her would be husband, and a picture I e-mailed to the guy who was my best friend when I was 11 and just got back in touch with this summer. Fun little surprises. I wonder if someday, someone else is going to be digging through a box, will find a little piece of me and will call or e-mail me and will say, "Do you remember this? This was great."
Monday, November 17, 2008
Day 182: Home Sweet Home
Listening: Talking 'bout a sweet memory. It goes 'round and 'round in my head. Pretty soon I’ll want the real thing instead, but for now I got this sweet memory.
What's my problem? I own too much crap.
It's nice. Being on my own futon, in my own sheets, under my own comforter, in my own room, with my own stuff, in my own city. It's a beautiful thing to be warm and comfortable in my own corner of the apartment listening to Melody Gardot late at night warm and content. I'm a lucky man here for four days off with all of my island worries far behind me.
I was welcomed home with hugs by my beloved roomie, Linh, and promptly lost three and a half hours of my life shooting the shit with her. That's how life should be. It's a beautiful thing to be able to connect with people like that upon impact. Beautiful. It's not to say that I'm not connecting with people on the island. The thing is, it's only happened recently. Coffee dates with Gabi and random happenings upon Katherine have me optimistic that I may end up leaving the island with a couple of things that resemble actual friendships or more than ephemeral relationships. Connections. People I can say, "Hey, I think I would like to be around them in my time outside of work" about. Dare I say, people whose thoughts aren't limited to, "Food, cook, clean, drink, drink, nothingness, me, me, me." Or maybe I should say people who only show me that.
I have a few projects that I want to accomplish while I'm here in Boston. The list goes as follows, in no particular order:
1) Sort through clutter and throw away/donate/ebay as much as possible.
2) Put my room back in order. Hang up and put away all clothes that were stowed for the summer.
3) Schedule appointment with a travel immunologist.
4) Talk to a travel agent about the logistics and advantages/disadvantages to Asia passes.
5) Cook for roomies/friends.
6) Look at kitchen scales for mother.
7) Take care of random paperwork.
8) Buy ma cha powder for friend.
9) Hustle for part time work in January
10) I think the first 9 are enough.
So I think that's how the next four days are shaping up. The first day was great. Got home, caught up with the roomies, had dinner at the Chez, caught up with everyone there, came home and rested. Wonderful. Tomorrow, knock some stuff off that list and make a big pot of beef stew for my palz. Life is good when you have four days off in a row.
What's my problem? I own too much crap.
It's nice. Being on my own futon, in my own sheets, under my own comforter, in my own room, with my own stuff, in my own city. It's a beautiful thing to be warm and comfortable in my own corner of the apartment listening to Melody Gardot late at night warm and content. I'm a lucky man here for four days off with all of my island worries far behind me.
I was welcomed home with hugs by my beloved roomie, Linh, and promptly lost three and a half hours of my life shooting the shit with her. That's how life should be. It's a beautiful thing to be able to connect with people like that upon impact. Beautiful. It's not to say that I'm not connecting with people on the island. The thing is, it's only happened recently. Coffee dates with Gabi and random happenings upon Katherine have me optimistic that I may end up leaving the island with a couple of things that resemble actual friendships or more than ephemeral relationships. Connections. People I can say, "Hey, I think I would like to be around them in my time outside of work" about. Dare I say, people whose thoughts aren't limited to, "Food, cook, clean, drink, drink, nothingness, me, me, me." Or maybe I should say people who only show me that.
I have a few projects that I want to accomplish while I'm here in Boston. The list goes as follows, in no particular order:
1) Sort through clutter and throw away/donate/ebay as much as possible.
2) Put my room back in order. Hang up and put away all clothes that were stowed for the summer.
3) Schedule appointment with a travel immunologist.
4) Talk to a travel agent about the logistics and advantages/disadvantages to Asia passes.
5) Cook for roomies/friends.
6) Look at kitchen scales for mother.
7) Take care of random paperwork.
8) Buy ma cha powder for friend.
9) Hustle for part time work in January
10) I think the first 9 are enough.
So I think that's how the next four days are shaping up. The first day was great. Got home, caught up with the roomies, had dinner at the Chez, caught up with everyone there, came home and rested. Wonderful. Tomorrow, knock some stuff off that list and make a big pot of beef stew for my palz. Life is good when you have four days off in a row.
Saturday, November 15, 2008
Day 180: Paranoia!
Listening: I'm sittin' at a coffee table unable to see straight, watchin' parallel lines unwind and undulate behind the rain-soaked window pane the scene's bleak. Another train leaving home, conceding defeat with a low moan.
What's my problem? I wonder if I suck sometimes.
So, I've been noticing something for a couple of weeks now. Pies, the sous, has become a bit distant from me. He doesn't say anything to me in the kitchen other than to criticize me, my mise, or something I'm doing. Sometimes he'll just start sticking his fingers in my mise looking for something wrong. Today he just started "fixing" something I cooked today that I had cooling in the walk in. It was kind of fucked up. He didn't say anything to me beforehand. He just went to town on it. I would have understood if he had brought it over to me and said, "I think there's too much vinegar in this." But he didn't.
So that's what's eating at me right now. I'm wondering if the slower pace of the nights and the fact that we're not going through our product as quick has made me sloppy. I'm wondering if he's right and I'm wrong. It's completely possible.
It's funny though. We were buddy-buddy for a while, but all of that seems to have dropped off. I'm wondering if I'm the bad guy of the kitchen now. I'm wondering if he's a bit threatened by some of the stuff I have been doing in the kitchen these days with the charcuterie and pates. I really don't know what it is.
If Pies does, in fact, have it out for me, it'll make it a bit harder for me to come back. I don't really want to work with/for someone who doesn't have my back. But, yeah, I get the feeling that Pies has a problem with me as of late.
It's a big question. Am I being paranoid or am I not? If I am, then I suck and I have to clean up my game and Pies is just being Pies. If I am not being paranoid, then Pies has it out for me and it's going to be an unpleasant three more weeks of working on Nantucket, and if I work on Nantucket next season, it'll be at another restaurant. Which is the better option? I don't know.
What's my problem? I wonder if I suck sometimes.
So, I've been noticing something for a couple of weeks now. Pies, the sous, has become a bit distant from me. He doesn't say anything to me in the kitchen other than to criticize me, my mise, or something I'm doing. Sometimes he'll just start sticking his fingers in my mise looking for something wrong. Today he just started "fixing" something I cooked today that I had cooling in the walk in. It was kind of fucked up. He didn't say anything to me beforehand. He just went to town on it. I would have understood if he had brought it over to me and said, "I think there's too much vinegar in this." But he didn't.
So that's what's eating at me right now. I'm wondering if the slower pace of the nights and the fact that we're not going through our product as quick has made me sloppy. I'm wondering if he's right and I'm wrong. It's completely possible.
It's funny though. We were buddy-buddy for a while, but all of that seems to have dropped off. I'm wondering if I'm the bad guy of the kitchen now. I'm wondering if he's a bit threatened by some of the stuff I have been doing in the kitchen these days with the charcuterie and pates. I really don't know what it is.
If Pies does, in fact, have it out for me, it'll make it a bit harder for me to come back. I don't really want to work with/for someone who doesn't have my back. But, yeah, I get the feeling that Pies has a problem with me as of late.
It's a big question. Am I being paranoid or am I not? If I am, then I suck and I have to clean up my game and Pies is just being Pies. If I am not being paranoid, then Pies has it out for me and it's going to be an unpleasant three more weeks of working on Nantucket, and if I work on Nantucket next season, it'll be at another restaurant. Which is the better option? I don't know.
Wednesday, November 12, 2008
Day 177: What To Do? What To Do?
Listening: I'm gonna have to run away. I'm sure that I belong some other place. I've seen another side of all I've seen.
What's my problem? I need to formulate a way to not spend money.
So I was thinking about the time before I head down to Atlanta and before I head out to southeast Asia. I thought to myself that I need to find a way not to spend any money. I need to have my net income/expenditures be $0. In accounting terms, I need my debits and credits to cancel each other out.
So, here's what I was thinking. If I can't get some freelance work from the Chez or the Dizzle, or any of my various friends in the industry, I'll pimp out my services to my friends and my friends of friends. Here's how it'll be. I'll go out and buy the groceries. If it's a long cooking braised dish, I'll prep and cook everything at home. Either they will come and pick me up or I'll cab over to their place and I'll finish the meal for them. In return, they will pay for the groceries and pay for my travel to and from their house (if they pick me up, they don't have to worry about it). If they choose to tip me, that's their business (though, as you would guess it would be heartily welcomed).
Think about it. It'll be deep winter time. It'll be cold. People will want hearty warm food, which means braised meat, stews, soups. A lot of that kind of food takes time. It takes time to make a good stock. It takes time to braise a piece of meat. They'll be taking advantage of the fact that I have nothing better to do other than sit at home and wait for a braise to be finished.
So, if you're interested, or know someone who might be interested, let me know. We'll see what I can work out for you.
What's my problem? I need to formulate a way to not spend money.
So I was thinking about the time before I head down to Atlanta and before I head out to southeast Asia. I thought to myself that I need to find a way not to spend any money. I need to have my net income/expenditures be $0. In accounting terms, I need my debits and credits to cancel each other out.
So, here's what I was thinking. If I can't get some freelance work from the Chez or the Dizzle, or any of my various friends in the industry, I'll pimp out my services to my friends and my friends of friends. Here's how it'll be. I'll go out and buy the groceries. If it's a long cooking braised dish, I'll prep and cook everything at home. Either they will come and pick me up or I'll cab over to their place and I'll finish the meal for them. In return, they will pay for the groceries and pay for my travel to and from their house (if they pick me up, they don't have to worry about it). If they choose to tip me, that's their business (though, as you would guess it would be heartily welcomed).
Think about it. It'll be deep winter time. It'll be cold. People will want hearty warm food, which means braised meat, stews, soups. A lot of that kind of food takes time. It takes time to make a good stock. It takes time to braise a piece of meat. They'll be taking advantage of the fact that I have nothing better to do other than sit at home and wait for a braise to be finished.
So, if you're interested, or know someone who might be interested, let me know. We'll see what I can work out for you.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
