Chef A is the third and final chef I had yet to work with. He a skinny bearded fellow with glasses similar to mine, probably around the same age. He works weekends and Mondays, and has his own catering company. When I came in at 1pm, Chef A hadn't arrived but the owner was in, flittering around the kitchen.
I went straight into it, calculating how much dough we needed then started to collect the mise. Chef A showed up around 1:30, doing his thing. He reviewed my calculations, teased me a bit about measuring in lbs and not kg on Saturday (!), then made the dough with me. Both Chefs R and C have their own little details and flourishes on how they make this crucial component, and Chef A was no different. After resting for an hour, he said it was good dough -- in response to his teasing, I said that I make many mistakes....once.
Spent the afternoon rough-chopping all sorts of root veg for a soup, then scaled out and balled a mess of dough. At some point, there was a kerfuffle because the dish washer for the evening called in "sick," but judging from his history and habits, it was assumed he was alcoholically derailed. Chef A jokingly asked me, "how are you with a dish washing machine?"
At around 5:30, Chef A asked me to fill in on dish duty -- no other washer could make it in. He said he knows it's not my job and I'm not getting paid to be there, but they'd pay me the going rate for a dishwasher. I really did not want to wash dishes all night, but I really did want to be a valued part of the team; so I said yes, whatever needs to be done I'll do it. The South American kid with lots of tattoos and minimal English gave me a semi-sign language tour of the dish station and where things go. And then I was off washin'.
Way back when, I had a friend who was connected to the 'zine culture (pre-blog) because she was a manager at Kinko's. She had a friend who traveled the country working as a dish washer, and writing about life. It's dirty, wet, and low-paying, but dishwashing jobs are easy to get. And calling in drunk may piss people off, but doing so won't get you fired!
I was bummed not to be in the kitchen. But when I actually got into it, I didn't mind it -- mindless busy work, allways something to do. I think the one thing I hated about all the staff positions I've held in graphics was all the down-time, being left to my own devices to look busy while glued to a desk. Before I knew it, the restaurant closed, my new friend in the back offered up any pasta of my choice, I ate with the front of house peeps. Did some mopping and exchanged kind words with Chef A and others. And then I was off riding home with some wet cash in my soaked pants. Too bad I didn't have any advance warning, I would have worn my rubber pants.
ADDENDA:
According to Wired Magazine, blogging is dead -- there is too much driftwood produced by media outlets, skammers, and nincompoops. The new hotness is...twittering. Restricting myself to 140 characters....could be fun but....that's not really writing. I'm doin' this for myself as well as the reader.
BREAKFAST: 9am, banana, .25 bowl, hunger 4/5
LUNCH: 12pm. BLT on rye with fries, water, 1.25 bowl, hunger 4/5
Really need to get groceries. Just not a lot in the house that wouldn't require a solid 45 minutes of prep and cooking. Went to my local diner, where I used to eat as a treat every weekend -- now, I can barely stomach it. The bacon is sooo industrial and salty, the fries so generic and soulless. Still, it was cheap-ish, fast and convenient.
LUNCH 2: 5:30pm, margarita pizza, black cherry soda, 1.5 bowl, hunger 4/5
DINNER: 9:30pm, small spag & meatballs, root beer, 1.25 bowl, hunger 4/5
Had a half-sized small portion, which is still pretty big.
Posts
No comments:
Post a Comment