Listening: Don't suffer no more. Just step inside and listen. Listen to my pillbox tales.
What's my problem? My knife callus says ouch.
Over the past two days I have been pulling some hours at the Chez, doing some prep work for a couple of catering jobs. Initially, I thought that I would only be prepping for one catering job, not two. It just so happened that the Chez was booked for an afternoon private party on one of the afternoons that I would be prepping.
The first day that I prepped, I did things for the bigger catering job. The problem was that there wasn't enough product in the walk-in for me to really get much done. Furthermore, I was kind of tired from being up at five in the morning to catch a ride into town. I think it made me a bit less productive than I wanted to be. I prepped a lot of the day facing the line as they cooked, and that made it a bit more laxed than in other conditions I could have been prepping in. I prepped from half past one until about ten o'clock. When I got off work, who was waiting in the bar, chillin' with a beer? It was the old pastry chef, Anne.
As the beers got drank, and the line cooks finished cleaning, I got caught up on current events and found out that Anne would be kicking it in the kitchen for this catering job as well. As it turns out, it would be an old school team working for catering the next day. It would be Paul and Marsoir, Anne and I. The two management people and the two ex-employees.
The second day is what I call The Perfect Fuck Storm. It's like "The Perfect Storm" when a number of storms converge into a bigger, supremely powerful storm. In this case, it was two fuck storms that converged upon the Chez.
In this case, not only was there the catering job for 150 people that I said that I would help with, but there was another 60 person in-house party that we had to do passed hors d'oerves. Cuban sandwiches were on the menu, but the pork wasn't roasted off a day ahead. Aioli, pickle mix, grilled veg, sliced ham and cheese, nothing was done in advance. In my time, I would have made the Cubanos the day before so that they were ready for three o'clock with no fuss. Garde manger should have known that this was coming down the pipe and should have been prepared for it. So, I had to take time out of prepping for the pig party to put all of that shit together, which takes a lot longer when you have to prep it from the ground up. I felt like I wasted so much time getting the stuff together for the Cubanos that I didn't have as much time to prep the other crap that needed to be done.
Furthermore, no one pushes their dishes through when there's no dishwasher, so who steps up to rock dish pit until the dust settles? Me, the guy they're paying much more money than they should be paying a dish washer. Total. Fuck. Storm.
When the party cleared and regular service began, I was finally able to work on the 150 person party. Luckily I was stuck downstairs with Anne, the old pastry chef, and Jen, the new pastry chef. Both are delightful women, and there was always something interesting to talk about, whether it was about how the catering job would go down to traveling to running marathons.
I did so much more knife work that night than I do on a normal basis at Seasons that my knife callus on the inside of my right index finger legitimately hurt. I julienned 10 cucumbers for spring rolls and turned a whole side of slab bacon into matchstick lardons (and it's a lot of fucking lardons).
Anyhow, I'm back on the island for my last few days of work. I can't help but be a little sad. I realize that I made some good money this summer, or at least as much as I would have made in Boston. I've met some wonderful people, and some not so savory individuals. I've laid out on the beach. I've imbibed some beverages. A few more days and I'm back into the land of ethnic food.
And in other news, I have discovered a new song that I dig. Originally, I heard it here:
After I heard Sweetafton23 sing it, I searched out the Jon Brion version, and then realized that it was a cover of a Rhett Miller song. They all sound really similar, but I just dig it a lot. If you haven't heard it, check it out.
Thursday, December 11, 2008
Monday, December 8, 2008
Day 203: Asian-Jacking, Sport Loitering, & Slacking Off
Listening: I fell into a winter slide and ended up the kind of kid who goes down chutes too narrow, just eeking out my measly pies.
What's my problem? My delinquency.
It's a quarter to three and I'm in my apartment hanging out on the internet with a friend plinking on her keyboard on the other couch. There will be food served tonight. There will be food consumed at the restaurant. I do not have the day off. I just have nothing of value to do in the kitchen until it comes to make staff meal. My list looks a little like this:
Check b-nut (butternut squash)
Check orzo
Braise beef cheeks for use on Thursday or Friday.
Staff meal.
Not a whole lot. Apparently Chef had already checked my b-nut and my orzo before I even went in late at two o'clock. The beef cheeks, he said, could be done on Thursday if I really wanted to put them off. He told me to go home for a while. I'm glad I didn't have much of a commute, just down the stairs. He sent Pies home for a while too. Pablo was told not to come in until late as well.
We have fifteen on. I can't see us doing much more than thirty. I'm just hoping to move some of my proteins.
The note of my upcoming slow service is, by no means, an excuse for my delinquency in posting. I have an excuse though. I have become the victim of "Asian-jacking." No. Not that kind of jacking. It's like hijacking, but instead of being swooped away by people you don't know for an agenda you don't know, you're surprisingly swooped away by a fellow Asian person, and brought on an potentially aimless adventure. Sometimes the adventure has direction, but it doesn't necessarily need to. One of my friends was "Asian-jacked" by being texted to come out of her house where her friend was already there, led to get sushi and whisked away to another house, all completely not premeditated by the victim of the "Asian-jacking."
I was "Asian-jacked" by my friend the other day (though it has happened a couple of times since then). She texted me for coffee, not realizing that I was one of those folks who lingers in bed for much longer than the normal person. Successful in rousing me from bed, we proceeded to have breakfast at the Downy Flake, sat there for a good few hours watching people come and go. We then drove out to Altar Rock, hung out there for a while. I helped her move some stuff to her new digs and then went to the Cisco brewery. We had a couple of pints and then went for dinner at Kitty Murtaugh's. We sat there for HOURS just drinking water after we finished. I came up with the idea that we had been sport loitering all day. We would seriously go somewhere, hang out for long periods of time, go somewhere else and hang out there for long periods of time. The word loitering was brought up by my friend, but it kind of went beyond just simple loitering. It took some serious skill, practice and dedication. Or maybe it just takes a dead island and two reasonably intellectual people who like to talk.
Anyhow it's a quarter past three. Maybe I should be going in soon. *sigh* Time for six hours of boredom. It's like the summer in Cambridge, but cold and with nowhere to go. I'll be back in the city tomorrow for catering prep with the Chez folks. It should be a good time. Maybe I'll even get some dim sum while I'm there.
What's my problem? My delinquency.
It's a quarter to three and I'm in my apartment hanging out on the internet with a friend plinking on her keyboard on the other couch. There will be food served tonight. There will be food consumed at the restaurant. I do not have the day off. I just have nothing of value to do in the kitchen until it comes to make staff meal. My list looks a little like this:
Check b-nut (butternut squash)
Check orzo
Braise beef cheeks for use on Thursday or Friday.
Staff meal.
Not a whole lot. Apparently Chef had already checked my b-nut and my orzo before I even went in late at two o'clock. The beef cheeks, he said, could be done on Thursday if I really wanted to put them off. He told me to go home for a while. I'm glad I didn't have much of a commute, just down the stairs. He sent Pies home for a while too. Pablo was told not to come in until late as well.
We have fifteen on. I can't see us doing much more than thirty. I'm just hoping to move some of my proteins.
The note of my upcoming slow service is, by no means, an excuse for my delinquency in posting. I have an excuse though. I have become the victim of "Asian-jacking." No. Not that kind of jacking. It's like hijacking, but instead of being swooped away by people you don't know for an agenda you don't know, you're surprisingly swooped away by a fellow Asian person, and brought on an potentially aimless adventure. Sometimes the adventure has direction, but it doesn't necessarily need to. One of my friends was "Asian-jacked" by being texted to come out of her house where her friend was already there, led to get sushi and whisked away to another house, all completely not premeditated by the victim of the "Asian-jacking."
I was "Asian-jacked" by my friend the other day (though it has happened a couple of times since then). She texted me for coffee, not realizing that I was one of those folks who lingers in bed for much longer than the normal person. Successful in rousing me from bed, we proceeded to have breakfast at the Downy Flake, sat there for a good few hours watching people come and go. We then drove out to Altar Rock, hung out there for a while. I helped her move some stuff to her new digs and then went to the Cisco brewery. We had a couple of pints and then went for dinner at Kitty Murtaugh's. We sat there for HOURS just drinking water after we finished. I came up with the idea that we had been sport loitering all day. We would seriously go somewhere, hang out for long periods of time, go somewhere else and hang out there for long periods of time. The word loitering was brought up by my friend, but it kind of went beyond just simple loitering. It took some serious skill, practice and dedication. Or maybe it just takes a dead island and two reasonably intellectual people who like to talk.
Anyhow it's a quarter past three. Maybe I should be going in soon. *sigh* Time for six hours of boredom. It's like the summer in Cambridge, but cold and with nowhere to go. I'll be back in the city tomorrow for catering prep with the Chez folks. It should be a good time. Maybe I'll even get some dim sum while I'm there.
Friday, November 28, 2008
Day 193: A Kind of Peace & Back Into The Fray
Listening: Slow down. Who you gonna turn to when there's nothing left for you to prove? And I can't control myself, and I won't be no one else.
What's my problem? I'm schleepy.
Oh, man. I am tired. It's been a long, but good 36... err... 48?
Wednesday was a nice busy service. We had fifty or so on the books, which is more than we've had for quite some time. It's not to say that we haven't done fifty covers in a night in a while. But it is certainly true that we haven't had fifty guaranteed covers in a long time.
As the day before Thanksgiving, we expected it to be busy too. I expected it to be moderately busy, so I did a bit more prep than I usually do. The funny thing was that more food was ordered off my station than I anticipated. I thought that, for sure, people would be chowing down on fish and lighter fare. How wrong I was. It was all braised beef cheek and buffalo sirloin. I sold nine of each plus four pork chops and one veg tart.
When I looked at my mise en place at the end of the night, I realized that I had prepped enough, but not enough of the things that would last the day off. I rode the line of "do I need to make more or should I ride with what I have?" Had it been a normal fall or winter day after the one day off, I would have let it ride. Since it was to be the day after Thanksgiving and we, again, had fifty on the books, I had to bulk my station. My prep list reflected that. I knew that Friday would hurt.
Since Wednesday was Pies' birthday, a bunch of us went to Kitty Murtaugh's to celebrate. Well, I went out to buy a round for Pies and Papi, as it was his birthday the day before. I chilled with the crew for a while until my friend showed up. After that, I let them have their shots of Jamison's and their stack of pint glasses while I enjoyed my friend's company. Before I knew it, they had the bright idea of going to Bamboo, a bar on the island known for it's rougher crowd and frequent fights. I opted to stay at Kitty's with my friend and bummed a ride home from her.
Thanksgiving day was an early start for me. Up, out of bed, showered and dressed all before a quarter to ten. Now that I'm thinking about it, it's not that impressive. I've been up before that on a number of occasions this summer. Anyhow, I actually set my alarm specifically to get up early and be ready for when my friend picked me up at a quarter past ten.
The plan was to go over to a house where another friend of ours was pet/house sitting where we would, off the cuff, cook a Thanksgiving dinner. Well, two of us would cook. Everyone else would just relax, eat, drink and be merry.
There were five of us altogether, and, lucky me, I was the only guy. I'm not saying that with any sort of sarcasm. These chicas are all cool, funny, intelligent, and attractive to boot. As far as thankfulness on the day of Thanksgiving, I was quite thankful that they brought me into the fold.
But back to dinner. Instead of having the traditional Thanksgiving fare, my friend threw me for a loop and said she was getting fish. Okay. Now I have to figure out what she's doing with the fish so I can plan my part accordingly. Well, that's what I was thinking to start with. In the end, I just decided that I would make another course. She had a fish course, so I went with a meat course. First course was her pan roasted salmon (with the most wonderfully crisp skin, and flesh lovingly basted with lots of butter, as I was originally taught at the Chez, but not how it's done at the Seasons) on a bed of chiffonade brussels and a nice vinaigrette. I put forth roasted duck breast, butternut squash risotto, cranberry ginger compote and some of the pan juices deglazed with Jack Daniels. For dessert, my friend made a pear tart with pecan frangipane and cinnamon whipped cream. It was all delicious, and even though we each consumed much less than a normal American would on Thanksgiving, we had to take breaks of at least an hour between each course.
That night, I hadn't planned on crashing out over there, but it just happened. It was fine. Everyone was out by ten... dead asleep. Me, I was in and out of consciousness from nine until ten thirty, then I was wide awake again. So, here I am. Wide awake in a house where everyone is asleep, and not to mention, my phone had no reception. I was up until around one o'clock, part of the time watching TV, and the other part, just sitting in the dark thinking. It was nice, though, being in a place where no one actually knew where I was (aside from my four cohorts). There was no phone for me, no internet... I know that if I were trapped in that status for more than 24 hours, I may go ape shit, but in this case, it was nice.
Anyhow, I didn't get home until this morning around nine or so. Yes, another early morning for me. I knew I had a lot to do, so I napped for about an hour and then headed into work crazy early. I had braising to do, butchering, blanching, knife work, sauce work, baking... the list goes on and on. To top it all off, I was slated to make staff meal. Well, it was supposed to be Papi and I, but Papi never does anything. At a quarter to four, I had to drop everything and get staff meal rolling. It was fried rice and some dumplings that I had made months ago that were in the freezer. Papi came around last minute and stir-fried some cauliflower and some green beans. Yeah. That's Asian. Fried rice is the ultimate one pot meal. Why on earth would you also put up a dish of poorly stir-fried veggies?
So, I was busy enough that I skipped break in order to make a backup of some sauce and to make sure that my braise came out of the oven on time. It was a long day. And now it's time for that day to end. Off to bed with me. I need some sleep. I know that there was more that I wanted to say in this post, and I know that I wanted to organize it a bit better, but this is the best you're getting out of me for now. Maybe something more intelligent tomorrow.
What's my problem? I'm schleepy.
Oh, man. I am tired. It's been a long, but good 36... err... 48?
Wednesday was a nice busy service. We had fifty or so on the books, which is more than we've had for quite some time. It's not to say that we haven't done fifty covers in a night in a while. But it is certainly true that we haven't had fifty guaranteed covers in a long time.
As the day before Thanksgiving, we expected it to be busy too. I expected it to be moderately busy, so I did a bit more prep than I usually do. The funny thing was that more food was ordered off my station than I anticipated. I thought that, for sure, people would be chowing down on fish and lighter fare. How wrong I was. It was all braised beef cheek and buffalo sirloin. I sold nine of each plus four pork chops and one veg tart.
When I looked at my mise en place at the end of the night, I realized that I had prepped enough, but not enough of the things that would last the day off. I rode the line of "do I need to make more or should I ride with what I have?" Had it been a normal fall or winter day after the one day off, I would have let it ride. Since it was to be the day after Thanksgiving and we, again, had fifty on the books, I had to bulk my station. My prep list reflected that. I knew that Friday would hurt.
Since Wednesday was Pies' birthday, a bunch of us went to Kitty Murtaugh's to celebrate. Well, I went out to buy a round for Pies and Papi, as it was his birthday the day before. I chilled with the crew for a while until my friend showed up. After that, I let them have their shots of Jamison's and their stack of pint glasses while I enjoyed my friend's company. Before I knew it, they had the bright idea of going to Bamboo, a bar on the island known for it's rougher crowd and frequent fights. I opted to stay at Kitty's with my friend and bummed a ride home from her.
Thanksgiving day was an early start for me. Up, out of bed, showered and dressed all before a quarter to ten. Now that I'm thinking about it, it's not that impressive. I've been up before that on a number of occasions this summer. Anyhow, I actually set my alarm specifically to get up early and be ready for when my friend picked me up at a quarter past ten.
The plan was to go over to a house where another friend of ours was pet/house sitting where we would, off the cuff, cook a Thanksgiving dinner. Well, two of us would cook. Everyone else would just relax, eat, drink and be merry.
There were five of us altogether, and, lucky me, I was the only guy. I'm not saying that with any sort of sarcasm. These chicas are all cool, funny, intelligent, and attractive to boot. As far as thankfulness on the day of Thanksgiving, I was quite thankful that they brought me into the fold.
But back to dinner. Instead of having the traditional Thanksgiving fare, my friend threw me for a loop and said she was getting fish. Okay. Now I have to figure out what she's doing with the fish so I can plan my part accordingly. Well, that's what I was thinking to start with. In the end, I just decided that I would make another course. She had a fish course, so I went with a meat course. First course was her pan roasted salmon (with the most wonderfully crisp skin, and flesh lovingly basted with lots of butter, as I was originally taught at the Chez, but not how it's done at the Seasons) on a bed of chiffonade brussels and a nice vinaigrette. I put forth roasted duck breast, butternut squash risotto, cranberry ginger compote and some of the pan juices deglazed with Jack Daniels. For dessert, my friend made a pear tart with pecan frangipane and cinnamon whipped cream. It was all delicious, and even though we each consumed much less than a normal American would on Thanksgiving, we had to take breaks of at least an hour between each course.
That night, I hadn't planned on crashing out over there, but it just happened. It was fine. Everyone was out by ten... dead asleep. Me, I was in and out of consciousness from nine until ten thirty, then I was wide awake again. So, here I am. Wide awake in a house where everyone is asleep, and not to mention, my phone had no reception. I was up until around one o'clock, part of the time watching TV, and the other part, just sitting in the dark thinking. It was nice, though, being in a place where no one actually knew where I was (aside from my four cohorts). There was no phone for me, no internet... I know that if I were trapped in that status for more than 24 hours, I may go ape shit, but in this case, it was nice.
Anyhow, I didn't get home until this morning around nine or so. Yes, another early morning for me. I knew I had a lot to do, so I napped for about an hour and then headed into work crazy early. I had braising to do, butchering, blanching, knife work, sauce work, baking... the list goes on and on. To top it all off, I was slated to make staff meal. Well, it was supposed to be Papi and I, but Papi never does anything. At a quarter to four, I had to drop everything and get staff meal rolling. It was fried rice and some dumplings that I had made months ago that were in the freezer. Papi came around last minute and stir-fried some cauliflower and some green beans. Yeah. That's Asian. Fried rice is the ultimate one pot meal. Why on earth would you also put up a dish of poorly stir-fried veggies?
So, I was busy enough that I skipped break in order to make a backup of some sauce and to make sure that my braise came out of the oven on time. It was a long day. And now it's time for that day to end. Off to bed with me. I need some sleep. I know that there was more that I wanted to say in this post, and I know that I wanted to organize it a bit better, but this is the best you're getting out of me for now. Maybe something more intelligent tomorrow.
Wednesday, November 26, 2008
Day 190: New Infusion
Listening: I feel the time has come like a remedy. I feel the time has come. We're shaking the spear of love in the city.
What's my problem? I don't know all of the songs.
So, the last couple of days in the kitchen have gone much better. I'm back to thinking I can cook, thanks to some really well (meaning good not cooked through) cooked pieces of meat, some difficult but doable prep, and a chat with a friend.
Pies is acting somewhat easier over the past couple of days too. I don't know if he just got his period or if it's because his birthday is tomorrow, but he seems more chilled out, at least towards me. Then again, he was always chilled out to the other people in the kitchen. I still don't really trust him as far as I could throw him. I still have my eye on him. We'll see what happens over the next two weeks.
Thanksgiving plans have firmed up. It turns out that I'm cooking a non-traditional Thanksgiving meal with all of my friends that I don't work with. Heh heh heh. I think that there's gonna be some fish involved, some noodles... I'm thinking about searing off some duck breasts, making a cranberry ginger compote and maybe a little butternut squash risotto. I actually have to go to the grocery store tomorrow to pick up a few things that I'm going to want to use.
And in other news, I have swapped iPods with one of my friends here on the island. It's pretty cool getting to listen to what someone else is plugged into most of the time. I wish I had more time to listen to music, but it seems like I'm limited to the few hours after I wake up and before I go to work, and the few hours I'm awake after work. I've been delighted over the past fifteen minutes, I have heard both the Squirrel Nut Zippers as well as Blackalicious. Wonderful. There's a good mix of music that I am familiar with, as well as music that I have never heard before in my life.
Anyhow I'm going to bed now. I'll listen to the iPod for another half an hour as I read more of The Namesake before I head off to sleep. I'm sure it'll be quite a trip.
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.
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."
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