Listening: I don't know what to do with myself. Movies only make me sad. Parties make me feel as bad, 'cause I'm not with you.
What's my problem? I need to be busy.
First day off the island and I am at a loss for what to do. I know I have stuff to do, but I'm just not feeling like I want to do it. I had to unpack today, but I really only unpacked about two thirds of the stuff I brought back, the two thirds that were easy. That included putting dirty laundry into the laundry basket, along with the bedding from the island, putting my shoes in the foyer, unpacking some food brought back, pulling out my toiletries, and, well, that's about it.
It took a great deal of effort to get back home. I was exhausted all day. As noted from the last post, I was awake when I should have been sleeping. I eventually got back to sleep at seven in the morning, and slept for two hours. At nine, I got out of bed, showered, and started to finish packing and cleaning the apartment. It really is amazing how many condiments I had to empty out of the fridge before I wiped it out. At eleven thirty, I went to get my ferry ticket, and more importantly some coffee, before moving my two duffels, my two backpacks, and my bike into the kitchen to get ready to go.
Chef was nice enough to give me a ride to the ferry. If he hadn't offered, I probably would have called a cab. The boat ride was uneventful. I anticipated sleeping the whole way, but I found myself looking out the window, listening to my ipod and watching the spray come off the side of the boat.
When I got off the boat, Sam was running late and had some car trouble going on. I'm not quite sure what was happening, but I know that it DEFINITELY needed to be looked at. I think that at one point I didn't think the car was gonna make it. What made it even more weird was the fact that her car is usually in tip top condition. She keeps this car amazingly maintained. Any little thing, she has fixed.
We did eventually make it back to Boston, but she was running late for work. She ended up leaving me near Harvard Square, swearing that my stuff would be safe in her car parked behind Lumiere. I have to say that I was a little bummed that I had to walk back to Porter Square, but it gave me an opportunity to pick up a CD that I wanted.
See, I took lemons, and I came out with a CD. I bought the new-ish Rachael Yamagata disc "Elephants/Teeth Sinking Into Heart." It's actually a two disc set, each with its own character. I expected the Elephants disc to have more of her upbeat stuff and the Teeth Sinking Into Heart disc to be more downtempo and melancholy, but I was wrong. The Elephants disc was more of the heart wrenching, chilled out, haunting vocals that I have come to love from her. Though I have only given it one serious listen-through, I'm not nearly as impressed with the Teeth Sinking Into Heart disc. It jammed out a bit, but it didn't have any sort feeling like I got from the songs "Worn Me Down" and "1963" from the Happenstance album. Still, regardless, I love her raspy vocals and her honest lyrics and melodies.
Anyhow, after I got home, I immediately dropped my backpack and headed over to the Chez to have my first meal of the day at six o'clock. That's right. Up until that point, I had consumed a mere two cups of coffee, a Pepsi and nothing else. I was HUNGRY. So after dropping off some Nantucket cranberries to Marsoir, I sat down, had a Smuttynose and Cubano. Other than that, my visit to the Chez was pretty standard. There was a person in the dining room who ordered a Manhattan in a wine glass. The couple next to me snickered along with me.
After dinner was naptime. It must have slept for a good couple of hours. I woke up just in time to watch Heroes with my roomie. After watching a little TV, I was off to meet my friend for a drink. She was only in town for the night from the west coast, so it was something that had to be done. By the time I got home it was one in the morning and I was off to dreamland in a hurry.
Today, I woke up late, and as I said before I didn't do much of anything. I spent most of the day aimlessly walking around the city, something I haven't had the opportunity to do in quite some time. There are a million things that I should have been doing. So here's what I have to do in no particular order:
1. Go look at digital cameras
2. Research more about Asia airfare packages
3. Go look at digital scales
4. Re-tool and reorganize my iTunes
5. Organize my room/put away my clothes
6. Do laundry
7. Ask a Mac "Genius" about leaving my computer untouched for 2.5 months
8. Ask a Mac "Genius" about how my computer's fan is really loud sometimes
9. Get a haircut
10. Relax a little
11. Think about getting my scooter (they're on sale at scootersgogreen.com
12. Find moisture-wicking, quick drying boxers at a reasonable price for my trip
13. Get a pair of pants hemmed
14. Eat (I have slacked a bit on this over the last few days)
15. Drop Nantucket cranberries off to Rendezvous and catch up with Ben and Mark
I'm sure that there's more that I have to do, but I think that's a good start to my list. I'm sure that more will be added to it, but the real question is: How much of it will I do tomorrow?
Tuesday, December 16, 2008
Monday, December 15, 2008
Day 210: Exodus
Listening: I wanna stop silly little games you and me play. And I am feeling right on. If you feel the same way, baby, let me know right away.
What's my problem? It's 5:30AM and I'm awake.
It's half past five in the morning. I should be asleep. I have been awake for the past four or so hours. After I came home from the bar at around midnight, I fell right to sleep. A couple of hours later, I was awake again. And now I have a bit of a headache. There are a lot of things going on in my mind from the professional to the personal, all of which I wish I could clear out of my brain. And to make it all even better, I haven't been able to get the smell of bleach off of my hands from the intense scrub down of the kitchen earlier.
The last day of service was pretty calm. Since I got raped on the second to last night of service, I really was the only person with any prep to do. When I prepped on the second to last day, I tried to make just enough to get me through the last day. What I didn't count on was that the servers would sell seventeen pork chops. We did a total of about fifty covers that night. That's more than a third of the diners having pork chops. I also sold quite a bit of beef tenderloin and buffalo as well. It's kind of amazing how a station can just get completely obliterated when another station has their thumbs up their asses.
Anyhow, I actually had to prep on the last day of service. I was riding a little low and uncomfortable on collard greens, orzo, cheese sauce and crushed fingerling potatoes. I prepped the collards, orzo and the cheese sauce, but I decided to ride out the crushed fingerlings. As it turned out, I was right on for the crushed fingerlings, the cheese sauce and the orzo, but came out way ahead with the collards. Bastard guests who don't follow a trend! I expected to sell at least the nine pork chops I had on hand, marinated, and even to cut into the cryo-vaced ones I had in reserve. I only sold eight. I sold eight buffalo, four beef tenderloins, and one veg tart. All in all, it was a pretty easy night. I did sweat the crushed potatoes around the middle of service, but when the last order rolled in, I had a half a quart left. I actually started with two and a quarter quarts.
After service, we did some massive cleaning. The salamander, the grill and the ovens all got taken apart and cleaned. The low-boy fridges got emptied and scrubbed out. Dishes, glasses, and flatware, as well as all of the food storage plastics, all got put in storage. Cleaning up felt like it took significantly longer than usual, and it did take longer, but not as long as I thought it was taking. Before I knew it, though, the nightly clean was done and all that was left was the finishing and detailing that we did today.
Also on the last day of service, Chef asked me to have a sit down. We discussed where I was at as far as coming back next season. I told him that I thought that it would be good for me on many levels to come back. Earlier in the day, I had run into Pies in town and asked him if he had a problem with me coming back. He said that he'd be fine with it, and I'm guessing that he relayed that back to Chef. After we established that I would be coming back, Chef kind of gave me a bit of a reality check. He outlined things that he thought that I would need to work on, namely prep-speed/efficiency, quality/consistency, and kind of not strictly paying attention to my own station/getting a greater scope of the kitchen. Some of the stuff that he said was kind of hard to hear. It was all stuff that I have going on in my head already, that I beat myself up over, so hearing someone else say it just sucked.
Cleaning day was easy. I got there a bit late, because Chef said to be there between eleven and eleven thirty. I showed up at twenty past eleven after getting coffee and chatting with my friend Megan. The front of the house people were there at ten and the kitchen staff all rolled in around eleven. So, I was the last man there today. What sucked about the cleaning day was that there was no list of things to do. You had to keep asking and asking and asking. I kind of wished that I just had a list of things to do and I could just do it.
After cleaning day, six of us went to Kitty Murtaugh's for some brunch. I had my very first Tanqueray Bloody Mary. I have to say it beats the piss out of a vodka Bloody Mary. It's just so much smoother.
Tonight was Peroni's farewell party. She has been on the island for about five years or so and is moving to San Francisco to do something with nutrition and whole foods. It was at this party that Pies and I had another talk about how the last two months went down, and we finally connected on what was happening. I understood where he was coming from, as he thought I was slacking because I was short-timing it. I thought he was being a non-constructive bitch, because he was. We cleared it all up and we're set straight for next season. It was just so frustrating these past couple of months.
The one thing that was said by both Chef and by Pies in our conversations that made me feel good was that I was cooking at an extraordinarily high level for a guy who has only been cooking professionally for three or four years without any culinary training. Of course, it was also coupled with the phrase, "but you still have a lot to learn and a lot to work on." I choose to focus more on the positive side.
So, today, I go back to civilization, to tackle what I think is going to be a can of worms. There are a lot of things that I have to take care of, and a lot of things that I need to tie up before I head to Asia. All I want to do, though, for now, is chill the fuck out. I want to work when I want to work and I want to see people I want to see. I want to sleep how I want to sleep, and I want to walk where I want to walk. Vacation is upon me. Hopefully I won't spend too much money before the good part gets here.
Random note: I find that when I try to type the word "good," I often type the word "food." Coincidence of the keys being too close together? I think not. Imagine the last sentence of that last paragraph if I had switched the two words. The sentence would kind of have the same meaning. Maybe that's just the quarter past six in the morning talking.
What's my problem? It's 5:30AM and I'm awake.
It's half past five in the morning. I should be asleep. I have been awake for the past four or so hours. After I came home from the bar at around midnight, I fell right to sleep. A couple of hours later, I was awake again. And now I have a bit of a headache. There are a lot of things going on in my mind from the professional to the personal, all of which I wish I could clear out of my brain. And to make it all even better, I haven't been able to get the smell of bleach off of my hands from the intense scrub down of the kitchen earlier.
The last day of service was pretty calm. Since I got raped on the second to last night of service, I really was the only person with any prep to do. When I prepped on the second to last day, I tried to make just enough to get me through the last day. What I didn't count on was that the servers would sell seventeen pork chops. We did a total of about fifty covers that night. That's more than a third of the diners having pork chops. I also sold quite a bit of beef tenderloin and buffalo as well. It's kind of amazing how a station can just get completely obliterated when another station has their thumbs up their asses.
Anyhow, I actually had to prep on the last day of service. I was riding a little low and uncomfortable on collard greens, orzo, cheese sauce and crushed fingerling potatoes. I prepped the collards, orzo and the cheese sauce, but I decided to ride out the crushed fingerlings. As it turned out, I was right on for the crushed fingerlings, the cheese sauce and the orzo, but came out way ahead with the collards. Bastard guests who don't follow a trend! I expected to sell at least the nine pork chops I had on hand, marinated, and even to cut into the cryo-vaced ones I had in reserve. I only sold eight. I sold eight buffalo, four beef tenderloins, and one veg tart. All in all, it was a pretty easy night. I did sweat the crushed potatoes around the middle of service, but when the last order rolled in, I had a half a quart left. I actually started with two and a quarter quarts.
After service, we did some massive cleaning. The salamander, the grill and the ovens all got taken apart and cleaned. The low-boy fridges got emptied and scrubbed out. Dishes, glasses, and flatware, as well as all of the food storage plastics, all got put in storage. Cleaning up felt like it took significantly longer than usual, and it did take longer, but not as long as I thought it was taking. Before I knew it, though, the nightly clean was done and all that was left was the finishing and detailing that we did today.
Also on the last day of service, Chef asked me to have a sit down. We discussed where I was at as far as coming back next season. I told him that I thought that it would be good for me on many levels to come back. Earlier in the day, I had run into Pies in town and asked him if he had a problem with me coming back. He said that he'd be fine with it, and I'm guessing that he relayed that back to Chef. After we established that I would be coming back, Chef kind of gave me a bit of a reality check. He outlined things that he thought that I would need to work on, namely prep-speed/efficiency, quality/consistency, and kind of not strictly paying attention to my own station/getting a greater scope of the kitchen. Some of the stuff that he said was kind of hard to hear. It was all stuff that I have going on in my head already, that I beat myself up over, so hearing someone else say it just sucked.
Cleaning day was easy. I got there a bit late, because Chef said to be there between eleven and eleven thirty. I showed up at twenty past eleven after getting coffee and chatting with my friend Megan. The front of the house people were there at ten and the kitchen staff all rolled in around eleven. So, I was the last man there today. What sucked about the cleaning day was that there was no list of things to do. You had to keep asking and asking and asking. I kind of wished that I just had a list of things to do and I could just do it.
After cleaning day, six of us went to Kitty Murtaugh's for some brunch. I had my very first Tanqueray Bloody Mary. I have to say it beats the piss out of a vodka Bloody Mary. It's just so much smoother.
Tonight was Peroni's farewell party. She has been on the island for about five years or so and is moving to San Francisco to do something with nutrition and whole foods. It was at this party that Pies and I had another talk about how the last two months went down, and we finally connected on what was happening. I understood where he was coming from, as he thought I was slacking because I was short-timing it. I thought he was being a non-constructive bitch, because he was. We cleared it all up and we're set straight for next season. It was just so frustrating these past couple of months.
The one thing that was said by both Chef and by Pies in our conversations that made me feel good was that I was cooking at an extraordinarily high level for a guy who has only been cooking professionally for three or four years without any culinary training. Of course, it was also coupled with the phrase, "but you still have a lot to learn and a lot to work on." I choose to focus more on the positive side.
So, today, I go back to civilization, to tackle what I think is going to be a can of worms. There are a lot of things that I have to take care of, and a lot of things that I need to tie up before I head to Asia. All I want to do, though, for now, is chill the fuck out. I want to work when I want to work and I want to see people I want to see. I want to sleep how I want to sleep, and I want to walk where I want to walk. Vacation is upon me. Hopefully I won't spend too much money before the good part gets here.
Random note: I find that when I try to type the word "good," I often type the word "food." Coincidence of the keys being too close together? I think not. Imagine the last sentence of that last paragraph if I had switched the two words. The sentence would kind of have the same meaning. Maybe that's just the quarter past six in the morning talking.
Thursday, December 11, 2008
Day 206: I Never Thought
Listening: Don't suffer no more. Just step inside and listen. Listen to my pillbox tales.
What's my problem? My knife callus says ouch.
Over the past two days I have been pulling some hours at the Chez, doing some prep work for a couple of catering jobs. Initially, I thought that I would only be prepping for one catering job, not two. It just so happened that the Chez was booked for an afternoon private party on one of the afternoons that I would be prepping.
The first day that I prepped, I did things for the bigger catering job. The problem was that there wasn't enough product in the walk-in for me to really get much done. Furthermore, I was kind of tired from being up at five in the morning to catch a ride into town. I think it made me a bit less productive than I wanted to be. I prepped a lot of the day facing the line as they cooked, and that made it a bit more laxed than in other conditions I could have been prepping in. I prepped from half past one until about ten o'clock. When I got off work, who was waiting in the bar, chillin' with a beer? It was the old pastry chef, Anne.
As the beers got drank, and the line cooks finished cleaning, I got caught up on current events and found out that Anne would be kicking it in the kitchen for this catering job as well. As it turns out, it would be an old school team working for catering the next day. It would be Paul and Marsoir, Anne and I. The two management people and the two ex-employees.
The second day is what I call The Perfect Fuck Storm. It's like "The Perfect Storm" when a number of storms converge into a bigger, supremely powerful storm. In this case, it was two fuck storms that converged upon the Chez.
In this case, not only was there the catering job for 150 people that I said that I would help with, but there was another 60 person in-house party that we had to do passed hors d'oerves. Cuban sandwiches were on the menu, but the pork wasn't roasted off a day ahead. Aioli, pickle mix, grilled veg, sliced ham and cheese, nothing was done in advance. In my time, I would have made the Cubanos the day before so that they were ready for three o'clock with no fuss. Garde manger should have known that this was coming down the pipe and should have been prepared for it. So, I had to take time out of prepping for the pig party to put all of that shit together, which takes a lot longer when you have to prep it from the ground up. I felt like I wasted so much time getting the stuff together for the Cubanos that I didn't have as much time to prep the other crap that needed to be done.
Furthermore, no one pushes their dishes through when there's no dishwasher, so who steps up to rock dish pit until the dust settles? Me, the guy they're paying much more money than they should be paying a dish washer. Total. Fuck. Storm.
When the party cleared and regular service began, I was finally able to work on the 150 person party. Luckily I was stuck downstairs with Anne, the old pastry chef, and Jen, the new pastry chef. Both are delightful women, and there was always something interesting to talk about, whether it was about how the catering job would go down to traveling to running marathons.
I did so much more knife work that night than I do on a normal basis at Seasons that my knife callus on the inside of my right index finger legitimately hurt. I julienned 10 cucumbers for spring rolls and turned a whole side of slab bacon into matchstick lardons (and it's a lot of fucking lardons).
Anyhow, I'm back on the island for my last few days of work. I can't help but be a little sad. I realize that I made some good money this summer, or at least as much as I would have made in Boston. I've met some wonderful people, and some not so savory individuals. I've laid out on the beach. I've imbibed some beverages. A few more days and I'm back into the land of ethnic food.
And in other news, I have discovered a new song that I dig. Originally, I heard it here:
After I heard Sweetafton23 sing it, I searched out the Jon Brion version, and then realized that it was a cover of a Rhett Miller song. They all sound really similar, but I just dig it a lot. If you haven't heard it, check it out.
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.
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....
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
