You Know You've Got It Bad When You're Lookin' At All-Clad Listeing: You know you got it bad when you’re stuck in the house. You don’t wanna have fun. It’s all you think about.
Okay, this is going to be a short one. Today while I was at work, Photogenic uploaded a bunch of the pics from her birthday weekend and put them on her picture archive online. As I looked at them, I found myself laughing out loud about the events of the weekend. Words like "tough love," "Ima blast you" and "dance off!" played in my head. It was such a good weekend. There are numerous pictures of me spanking random people (well, not random to me), grinding with chicas and just being a generally naughty boy. Good thing that in a few weekends I'll be gettin' a good spanking of my own. Heh heh heh.
Something that I didn't mention yesterday was that I figured out what brand my favorite pans in the kitchen are. Go figure. they're All-Clad. I've been really appreciating this one pan that I use for the warm spinach salad dressing. I chuck some lardons into the pan, add the dijon vinegarette and slam that bad boy into a four hundred degree oven for a few minutes. I like it because it has a nice weight, a nice curvature to it, and it's just the right size for single serving. I'm totally in love with this pan. When I saw that it was All-Clad, my spirits dropped. All-Clad is expensive shit. It's high quality shit, but expensive shit. I went looking for the pan that I want online and I found it for forty to forty five dollars. Yeesh. It's not hella expensive, but it's a lot more than I want to shell out right now. *sigh* *swoon*
In other news, I really think that Bob thinks that I'm the shit. Today, I worked as I usually do on Mondays and Tuesdays, when he came up to me and was like, "You know, it's really great having you in the kitchen. I mean, you even came in on your day off!" To that I responded by saying that I really love coming in and working and it's what I look forward to all week long. It was then that he handed me an envelope. He then said to me, "This is just a small token of our appreciation for the work that you do for us. We really do appreciate it." I told him that he really didn't need to give me anything, that the experience alone is worth my time right now. He said, "I know. I just want you to know that we really appreciate you helping out." When I got home, I opened up the envelope and it was a fifty dollare gift cert to Chez Henri. Nice. That should cover an entire meal in the dining room soup to nuts without wine, at least. I was pleased. I realize that if I were a full fledged line cook, I would have made more than fifty bones on the ten or twelve nights that I have worked for them, but I really liked the gesture. It made me feel like I really wasn't just a lump of fat in a body builder's phisique, but a small, not yet fully defined muscle, that is helping in any way that it can, but is being worked on. Okay, that was a strange analogy. But I digress....
Tomorrow is my one night off before I head down to NYC to check out the French Culinary Institute. I'll be down there auditing classes all day on Friday. It should be a good time. Although, if I decide to postpone culinary school for a year to work in the industry, the visit may be a bit pointless. At least I'll be able to sit down and talk with a financial aid rep. that's something that I'm really looking forward to doing. Perhaps they could help me figure out what are realistic financial possibilities.
Anyways, I'm tired. It's time to go to sleep. *Yawn* Hump day... Alias day... Rest day....
The Balance Of The Day/It's Not The Size Of Your Knife... Listening: Watching my hopes follow dreams down the drain. I'm only joking of course yet again as I do. Watching another day turn into night, there goes another month. Doesn't it frighten you so?
What a day off. There was definitely a balance to the day. I woke up to get some not so fun news, which really had nothing at all to do with me. I spent the bulk of my morning and early afternoon hours chatting and cheering, questioning and listening, as all good friends for good friends at different points in time. As I was doing this, I thought to myself how as my life really has become a pretty cool place, a number of my other friends are going through rough patches. It sucks, but I guess that's how the world balances everything out.
Since I had the day off, I went into Chez Henri at three in the afternoon. Actually, I was ten minutes early. I stood outside of the kitchen door in hte snow for a few seconds before knocking to be let in. I felt like a bit of a dorking being early to work for the first time in over six months. And this wasn't even my bread and butter job... Okay, it is my bread and butter job, it's just not my money job.
When I got let into the kitchen, Tony and prep cook were the only ones around. Tony said that he got in at two, just because he knew that he would have to clean up after the cook who manned that grill station last night. When I heard Justin and Tony talking about it, they both seemed to acknowledge that this guy was a slob. I guess I'm pretty happy that I'm not in that boat.
I brought both of my blades to work with me, just to see how they would hold up. After I started working at Chez Henri, I quickly realized that both of my blades from home, which are perfect workhorses for my home kitchen, were significantly shorter than the knives that we use on the line. I was relieved, though, to find out that during prep, my little seven inch Taiwanese knife (my baby) worked perfectly for cutting limes, lemons, avocado, pears, blood oranges and the such. I think that I could have done better on the endive if I had a longer knife, though. I think that what I really needed the longer knife for was for cutting the Cuban sandwiches during service, and that's it. Chef Bob seemed to really like my knife, as did Justin and Tony. Israel was having a bad day, so he was pretty much off in his own world. Yeah, but Chef Bob thought it was a really great piece. I kind of dug that validation. It was like one Indian admiring the craftsmanship of another's pipe, or two samaurais admiring each other's swords.
I found that I liked prep. I liked it a lot. I liked making the parts that we use to put dishes together. I made the avocado puree on my own, as well as the dijon vinegarette and the blood orange reduction. I helped with the poached pears and cut all of the citrus for the day.
I think my real acheivement of the day was the avocado puree. It's basically a crazy smooth guacamole. I take avocado, add lime juice, salt, and cayenne and puree it with some olive oil. Now I hate avocado. I just don't like the taste of it. But, while making it, I could tell when it was right and when it wasn't. It was awesome. I knew when it needed more salt or lime juice from the taste of it. Late in the night, we made a Tuna Pincho which has a side of the avocado puree for Dylan, the bartender. We had just finished off yesterday's puree, so we gave him the new stuff that I made. It was beautifully bright green, and had just enough salt and lime juice to make it pop. He actually came into the kitchen to let us know how much he liked the puree. Wahoo! It made me feel like a champion.
Another thing that I have been really digging lately has been the dijon vinegarette that we use for the warm spinach salad with the duck tamale. I made a large batch of that stuff today. Back in the day, like a year ago, I hated mustard. I was so used to it being that unnatural yellow stuff that is labeled "French's." I really dig the grainy mustard that we use for the vinegarette, and the vinegarette on the whole. I take every opportunity to taste it these days. While making it, today, I found out that when you have so much mustard in the recipe, it emulcifies really easily. I barely moved my wisk and it all came together. Of course, I still worked the dressing a bit on the off chance that it would break.
There was also a real ego boosting moment today. Tonight on the line, I didn't really feel like I had my game on. I felt like I was just sort of barely cutting it. I got stuff done in enough time, but the covers weren't rolling in so much where I should have been running so many at the same time. My timing and priority were off a bit. But, there was this one guy, Tim, who works the front of the house during most of the nights that I work. He asked me, "Are they paying you yet or what?" Of course, I told him no and we chatted about my nine to five and about what I'm trying to do. Then later on in the locker room, after the end of the service, he said to Justin, "I can't believe that they're not paying him (me) yet. Don't you think it's about time?" Then they launched into this big discussion about how I should get paid and about how this other guy, Greg, who I have never met, really has no business being in a kitchen. Apparently, he's a hell of a hard worker, but he doesn't have the talent for food or cooking, of which, apparently I do. In addition, I guess everyone treats this guy like shit and he takes it. The finally came to the decision that they think that if I could quit my nine to five today, they think that Bob and Paul should hire me on full time, because "clearly I have the talent and skill to work in a professional kitchen." That was awesome.
It was also interesting, they were talking about this guy, Brian, who I have met a couple of times. Apparently he is from a fairly well off family, and this guy just keeps getting into trouble and has his parents bail him out. They talked about him with a little bit of distain. The great quote was, "Yeah, this guy comes from money. He had a good childhood, was brought up in a nice neighborhood, went to an expensive, well-known prep school and he made nothing of his life." To that, I responded, "Hey, I was brought up in nice neighborhoods, went to an expensive, well-known prep school, and I'm trying to get into the job that he has," to which the response was, "Yeah, but you're trying to make nothing of your life." It was kind of funny in that context.
So it was a really good night at the office today. Although I didn't have my game on, I still scored a lot of points and came out feeling like a winner. On the way home, I ran into a kid from high school. He looked almost exactly the same as he did in high school, maybe a little bit taller. His accent was almost nonexistant compared to what he had in high school too. We chatted and exchanged pleasantries and e-mail addresses. It was altogether pretty cool. So today had some goods and some bads. But, at the end of the night, I'm going to sleep a happy man.
Burning Magnesium & The AFI Threshhold Listening: People worry. What are they worrin about today? Seems like there's a good reason to worry, worry, worry.
Man, it sure has been an interesting week/weekend. I've been running around like a chicken with my head cut off, learning tons, cooking tons, partying tons.... It all just seems to keep going.
After my two days cooking at Chez Henri, I cooked two nights at home. On Wednesday night, I just kind of wanted to have a nice homecooked meal. I wanted something simple. So I told Photogenic on IM, "Yeah, I'll cook dinner tonite. I just kind of want something simple." My plans were to make a simple steamed catfish with ginger and scallions, some Chinese broccoli, and some rice. You know, simple. When I got to Chinatown, I was mesmerized by the food. I just bought more and more stuff. The catfish that they had at the Chinese grocery store was looking a little broke, so I decided to get some striped bass, which turned out to be really good. It was just like I used to eat when I was a kid growing up on the South Shore. I distinctly remember my mother making it. I did a good job of recreating it as well. I did make the Chinese broccoli, as planned, but I also made stirfried beansprouts and a watercress soup. It all turned out reasonably well, but I forgot to season the watercress soup, so it was a little bit bland. When I reheated it this afternoon for lunch, I added the appropriate salt and pepper. It was a good meal though.
Thursday night, Photogenic had some people coming in from out of town for her birthday. They were coming in late, so she cleaned all day long. That night I decided that I wanted to try my hand at linguini in white clam sauce. I read through several recipes online and decided on my strategy. I sent The Violent One to go get the ingredients and I cooked as soon as I got home. The sauce is a relatively quick one. You heat some olive oil and fry up some minced garlic, thyme and red chili pepper flakes. When that's all nice, you add in your clams and parsley. After a couple of minutes you add in a bit of dry white wine and the clam juice. You let it reduce down, just a little bit and then you toss the pasta in the sauce. Simple. I used the Fat Bastard Sauvignon Blanc, because I'm generally not a chardonnay fan. I think that the sauvignon blanc was a great drinking wine, but was definitely the wrong one to put in the sauce. I think that I should have listened to my gut instinct and that I should have used the drier chardonnay. That was the first lesson that I learned with that. The second thing that I learned is that the sauce tastes completely different alone in comparison to when it's tossed with the pasta. When I tasted it alone, I was thoroughly disappointed. There was something wrong, but I couldn't quite grasp it. The taste was off. It could have been that there was too much wine in the sauce or that I added too much red chili pepper flakes. I just couldn't put my finger on it and I didn't know where to go to fix it to my liking so I just tossed the pasta in. When I tasted the pasta with the sauce, it tasted much better. It wasn't the best linguini in white clam sauce that I have ever had, but it was good enough for a random night's dinner.
In addition to the dinner that I made on Wednesday night, some fun antics took place. Earlier in the day, before Photogenic got home from work, The Violent One filled all of Photogenic's empty picture frames around the house with porn left over from the pornaments. When Photogenic got home, she didn't even notice it at first. She finally noticed them when she came out of the bathroom fifteen minutes after she got home. She was actually startled by the images. It was truly fantastic. It took her another ten minutes to see the ones that were on the mantlepiece above the television. It was really funny, mostly because she was stressed about cleaning up before her friends got into town on Thursday. She actually pulled them down immediately after she saw them. She actually thought that it was me who did it. For once, I was innocent. Isn't that how it always is?
So, as I said before, Photogenic's friends from Virginia came into town on Thursday night. They got in at around nine thirty, and it wasn't ten o'clock before they were raring to go. Their first bar experience in Boston was The Enormous Room, one of my favorite haunts. They asked me to go, and since it was still early, I decided to go out for a drink or two. I only stayed for one Ten and tonic and a shot of Johnny Walker Black Label (blech!) before returning home on the last T, while they stayed on and drank for a while longer. Strangely enough, Paddleback was at The Enormous Room with a couple of friends too. She was about to leave when we got there, so we got to snake her prime cushion-laden spot. It was a good score. I had a dance off with Photogenic's cousin which was a bit of fun. All in all, it was a good time.
Friday night, I went out with Photogenic and the VA crew again. I had already had dinner with Ebonically Linguistic by the time they were ready to go out. Actually, it seemed like I knew more about the locale of different places in Boston than Photogenic did. We ended up rushing around to pick up three of the five VA kids, who were staying at the Hyatt at Downtown Crossing before heading to the Laurel Grill for them to get dinner.
After they ate dinner, we went to 33 Restaurant & Lounge for drinks and a little nightlife. I had never been to 33, so I was pretty psyched about it. The upstairs was very restaurant. There were tables, and couples eating, but downstairs, it was very much like a bar/lounge. At first, I thought the music that they were playing was whack. It just didn't move me, but after a while they played some house and some hip hop. The hip hop was a little bit poppy for me, but, hey, at least they didn't play pop crap like Britney Spears' "Toxic."
We were at 33 for a little while, but the place was a bit crowded and the VA kids wanted to see other places in Boston. We were just about ready to go when the strangest thing happened. We all had our coats on and were heading towards the stairwell when three asian chicks pass us by. One of them looks at me straight in the face and smiles at me. That NEVER happens to me. Within five seconds, one of the VA guys turns to me and says, "Hey, if you wanna stay, we can stay." It was a hard decision. I looked at the other four kids from VA and Photogenic, who had no clue what had happened. It looked like they were ready to leave and that they weren't having a fantastic time, so I sucked it up and said, "Naw, man. We're here for y'all and I'm here to make sure y'all are having a good time. Let's bounce." So bounce we did. I kicked myself for a good day about it too. And the reason is this....
After 33, we headed over to Saint. I had heard so much about this place. I have a friend who was the music director over at Limbo, which is now defunct, and is now the music director at Saint. I figured it would be cool. It really wasn't. The space was cool. The crowd was kind of lame. The music was lame. The drinks were okay. The bartenders were iffy. It was just very sad. If we had stayed at 33, not only would we have had the girl there for me, but we had a good bartender, decent music and a young enough crowd.
I gotta tell ya, these VA kids can drink. They drink a lot and they drink often. All of them are cool kids though. None of them are bad drunks and all of them have great senses of humor. I really liked all of them. I think that if they lived in Boston or if I lived in VA, I would hang out with them. I would probably drop a lot more coin on liquor, but I think that I would enjoy that a lot.
Saturday night was Photogenic's b-day bash. It started at Summer Shack in the Back Bay for dinner. I had grilled shark. I had never had shark before in my life, with the exception of shark's fin soup. I have to say that I really like it a lot. It was a very dry fish with a firm texture. It was served in a creole sauce, which seemed a lot like Pace Picante with a little extra hit, and dirty rice. I cleaned my plate.
After that, we went to the Nine Zero hotel where Whisper rented a suite for the night. We fit around twenty people into the room. It was cool. There was a bottle of Johnny Walker Black Label, Ciroc vodka, Bacardi Rum along with a number of mixers and a couple of bottles of wine. The drink was on.
Now, in order to explain the rest of the night, I have to explain something that had been going on in my head for the last couple of days. When Photogenic said that she would be having friends up, she said that one of them would totally be my taste, and she was right. One of her friends, who we'll call Burning Magnesium, was totally up my alley. The first couple of days that they were here, I was totally sweating her. The reason that I call her Burning Magnesium is because she was so white hot that I couldn't look directly at her without my retnas burning. I felt self-conscious looking at her and trying to talk to her. I felt that even when I looked at her, for a brief second, I was gawking at her. So I tried to engage her in conversation and what not for the better part of the first two nights, attempting to impress her and stuff. Unfortunately, she was the one person who was most standoffish to me in the group. Everyone else was really engaging and outgoing. Her, not as much.
When we got to the Nine Zero, I said to myself, "Aww, fuck it. I'm just gonna do whatever. I'm just gonna have a good time. Not gonna try to chat up anyone who doesn't want to be chatted up or impress anyone who doesn't want to be impressed." So I did just that. I did a little drinking, chatted it up with a bunch of people and did some dancing. Boy, did I do some dancing. Photogenic's cousin wanted a rematch from Thursday night's dance off. They had all claimed that she had been practicing. So I went first and she was a walk off. It was so funny. I popped and locked as I threw off my button down. I did a little ass shakin' and finally undid and threw off my belt. This was in front of about twenty or so people and I had them all rolling. Unfortunately, my belt hit a girl, but she was laughing so hard that it didn't matter. So all of the VA kids said that I "blasted" Photogenic's cousin. I even finshed the dance by bending her over and spanking her with my belt. It was actually really, really funny. I had a blast doing it. I got some smiles from the room. What more can you ask for?
After we partied it up in the suite, we headed over to Peking Tom's for more drinking and partying. When we got there, Glare, Totoro and Stringbean were there celebrating Stringbean's birthday. So we all got together, drank, and danced. It was so much fun. I had the best time. There were more dance offs, more bootie dances, and a lot of fun. I danced with friends and people who were seemingly standoffish (not just Burning Magnesium). I wasn't trying to hit on anyone. I wasn't trying to hook up with anyone. I was there to dance and to party. There was zero pressure and there was zero disappointment.
In regards to all of that, I think that the girl smiling at me at 33 was a good metaphor for my life. I was telling Fester before we went to Nine Zero that my life was going really well lately. I am happy with where my life seems to be going and where I'm at right now. I feel like I have just about eliminated most of the things that made my life an unhappy place over the past four years to six months. There are so many great things going on in my life right now. Most of them begin and end with food. Aside from food, I have three really great roomies. They're funny and caring and think that my cooking is wonderful. They are ten times better than any of the roomies that I had at Colby. Man, I'm just really enjoying being me and riding all of the changes that are going on in my life. And I think that my aura of happiness was reflected in that girl smiling at me. As the t-shirts and hats say, "Life is good."
Sunday was a pretty chill day. I spent most of the day in, trying to load and re-load my blog page, because I just couldn't access it. The VA kids lounged around the apartment. The Violent One hid in her room. Fester came over to hang out for a bit and we talked a lot about kitchen equipment. Later on in the night, I got dinner with Ebonically Lingusitic and Japanaphile before meeting up with The Violent One to go see the Kevin So concert. It was a good time. And that was my weekend.
I have a good day coming up tomorrow. I can smell it. Since it is a federal holiday, I don't have to work at the Corporation. And since I don't have to work at the Corporation, I can go into Chez Henri for a full day of work, starting at three in the afternoon. I'll be there for prep and setup. I'll eat the staff meal there and everything. Oh, man, am I psyched. I'm bringing both of my knives so that I can test them out on a full day of prep. So, I can see which knife is going to fatigue my hand more and which one will just do a better job. I know that both knives are too small to be really useful in a professsional kitchen, but it's what I have right now. I don't have the money for a ten incher, so I'll make due with the restaurant serviced knives during the service.
Something that I have been thinking about today has been the "AFI Threshold" or the "Aww, fuck it! Threshold." We saw it in action this weekend when dealing with Burning Magnesium. The AFI Threshold is the point at which you saw "Aww, fuck it!" and either throw in the towel, suck it up and do what you have to do or suck it up and let the situation drop. It is where you resign yourself to the circumstances and you make the decision to act or walk away and give up the struggle.
I find that the AFI Threshold changes from situation to situation and from person to person. Like, my job at the Corporation, for instance. The AFI Threshold for that job was three years before I decided to stop persuing the expatriot positions. It took a couple of really bad months before my AFI Threshold was surpassed for dragon boat, and a few months (and a couple of conversations) to reach my AFI Threshold with Her Majesty.
What I find interesting is that there are different factors that change people's AFI Thresholds for different situations. I'm really curious as to what people think will make them just say, "Aww, fuck it!" in different situations.
Anyways, those are my thoughts for tonite. It's four in the morning and it's time to go to sleep. When I wake up, the VA kids will be gone. *sigh* It's too bad we can't have a lively bunch like that around all of the time. I think that they would wear me out in a hurry, but it sure would be fun to hang out with folks like that once in a while.
Engaging In Foreplay All Night Long Listening: I don't want pork chops and bacon. That won't awaken my appetite inside. I want the frim fram sauce with oss-en-fay with sha fafa on the side.
Today flew by like it was shot out of a cannon. I woke up later than I anticipated, got into work at the normal time, although I plotted on being into work on time today. I'm really not sure where the nine to five workday went. I barely had time to eat my left over paella or anything like that. I was tired all throughout the day. I was just thoroughly unreasonable. There were a couple of odd things that happened in my work, but nothing that took any real brain power to really figure out.
For the past week, I have felt a tickle i the back of my throat, so I have been drinking a lot of high vitamin C beverages, and today, I even got some vitamin C drops. I only managed to take two of them before I started cooking the line. However, the second that I hit the line, I didn't feel a thing. In fact, even after the kitchen closed and I finished my shift, I still didn't feel a thing.
When I first stepped into the kitchen, it was jammed. There were two guys working grill, two on sautee, one on roasting and Justin on Garde Manager. Paul was running around fixing up some stuff. Tania, the pasty chef who I met for the first time tonite, was running around finishing her designs. Bob was expediting and we had two other runners. Tony was running some prep along with another guy who didn't speak all that much English, and we had two people washing dishes. Now, let me just say that the kitchen really isn't that big. There were some people downstairs, some in the room between the kitchen and the dining area, and then the usual suspects in the actual kitchen.
As soon as I stepped on the line, I was lost. Since I wasn't around for prep, I wasn't all that familiar with the menu. They tweaked the Bistro Salad, added Baked Oysters, and offered only four different desserts, the Truffle Cake and the Berry Napoleon, which were specials for Valentine's Day and the Cafe au Lait Creme Brulee and an assortment of sorbets, which were both old desserts,. I started off making salads and baking oysters, which was something new. The oysters were topped with a cheese and spinach mixture and baked in the oven. When they came out, they were plated atop a one inch thick line of coarse ground sea salt which was made more plyable with a little bit of water and were topped with hollandaise sauce. The new bistro salad was almost exactly the same, except the greens were slightly different. The mixture was also set atop a base of bibb or Boston lettuce. I have to say that I liked the new presentation, even though it wasn't greatly different from the old one.
It was while I was pulling out the dressing for the Warm Spinach Salad with Duck Tamale that I received my third war wound. Justin had put the frying pan a little too far into the oven and when I went to grab it, my right ring finger touched one of the racks. It now looks like I have a white stripe slashing diagonally between my second and third knuckle. It's actually puffed up really nicely, and I'm wondering if I should go ahead an pop the fucker. Justin laughed at me a bit and showed me a war wound from the other day where he tried to grab a pan out of the oven without using his towel. That was a nasty one.
As the night went on, I plated more Galantines and salads. I had to turn around several times so that Tania could show us how she wanted each dessert plated. Justin just kept on working, on the tickets as they came, so I absorbed much more than he did. When the dessert tickets came in, I ended up being the guy who did them. So, I was doing desserts probably three quarters of the night. I had a blowtorch in my hand for at least an hour and a half total all night long. I think I perfected my creme brulee torching technique as well.
I absolutely loved plating the special desserts. For the Truffle Cake, we started with a cold plate. From there, we squeeze a nice amount of creme anglaise onto the center and roll the plate around to evenly coat the center food surface. We then squeeze a nickel sized dot of chocolate sauce at twelve, three, six and nine o'clock on the plate. One those are on, we drag a toothpick around, the plate, through each circle, so that the design looks like chocolate hearts joined together. With that done, you take a truffle cake out of the fridge, dip the bottom of the foil cup in hot water for a few seconds to loosen it from the cup, and turn it upside down to get it out. Place the cake with the chocolate side up in the middle of the plate with the hearts around it, plant a chocolate squiggly design atop the cake, and hit it with a few shakes of powdered sugar and add a raspberry and mint sprig to garnish. I think that I made the most sexy platings when I put the raspberry and mint sprig together so that, together, they looked like a flower. It was hot. I KNOW that I plated some sexy desserts tonite.
The other dessert, the Berry Napoleon, really had me though. What it was was a dollop of whipped cream placed just to the left of the center of a cold plate, leaning halfway on the whipped cream, we put a heart shaped shortbread cookie, which then halfway covered with a mixture of strawberries, blackberries, and raspberries which were combined with a couple of liquers and some sugar to create a nice syrup. Those berries were topped by another dollop of whipped cream and were leaned up against by another heart shaped sugar cookie. It was then hit with a few shakes of powdered sugar and garnished with a sprig of mint. The berries were so damn good. Oh my god, were they good. The blackberries were both ripe and firm, while the strawberries and raspberries released all of their juices to make the syrup. Oh, man it was so good.
So from about seven thirty until closing at eleven, I was making desserts. And you know what desserts really are for Valentine's day, right? That's right. It's foreplay. It's a precursor to naught, nasty, dirty, sweaty, loud, screaming sex. Or we could just say fucking. So all night long I provided the tools for a bit of each of these couples' foreplay. If they didn't get some sex after these desserts, I don't know what the hell is wrong with them. Justin and I were talking about the Berry Napoleon and we both agreed, that the Berry Napoleon had the aura of sex all over it. Justin said it made him think about his woman's pussy. I said that I could definitely think of some naughty uses for the components of the dessert. Unfortunately, his woman seemed to be mad at him when he left the house and, well, food is my girlfriend, so I guess I'll just have to stick to eating the dessert straight up.
Anyways, it was non-stop all night long for me, as I ran desserts. As the night wore on people peeled off. First it was one of the prep guys, then Paul, Tony and Tanya, one of the grill guys, Bob, Gabriel, Mark, Israel, Brian, and then finally Justin and myself.
It was a really productive night. One of the guys asked me if I was officially working there yet. I told him that I was still interning and that I didn't think that Bob or Paul had the money or the time to hire me full time yet which led to a long discussion of culinary school and how to make working in a kitchen work in the long term. It was a fun conversation. I know I have what it takes to be a line cook, and I think I have what it takes to be an executive chef or a chef/owner. Time will tell. I just need to make sure that I make all of the right moves.
Man, it's a quarter past two. I'm beat and grungy. Originally I wasn't gonna take a shower. I was just going to go to sleep. But I think a shower sounds nice. So, off to the shower with me.
Looking Forward To Valentine's Day With My Girlfriend Listening: There’ll be no strings to bind your hands, not if my love can’t bind your heart. And there’s no need to take a stand. For it was I who chose to start.
For years and years and years, I haven't had a girlfriend on Valentine's Day. I started dating a girl in eighth grade on Valentine's Day when I asked her out and we went to see The Man In The Moon with Reece Witherspoon. I hate to spoil it for you, but the love interest gets run over by a tractor. It's kinda like the story of my love life, but instead of the love interest getting run over by a tractor, it's usually my heart.
Anyways, I have never been a big fan of Valentine's Day. I have never liked it, celebrated it with anyone, looked forward to it, or believed that it was a quality use of time or energy. I helped coin Anti-Valentine's Day parties at Colby. I even now have a friend who bit my idea and was thinking about running one of her own this year. (HA! Just another example of people biting my style. It's like I can't escape it!)
This year is different though. I am truly looking forward to a heavenly Valentine's Day in which I will spend the evening with my glorious girlfriend. We've known each other for a long time. We've been friends for as long as I can remember, but I never actually made a move on her until just recently. Her name is Food.
Actually, that's been the joke around my apartment and with a bunch of my friends over the past couple of weeks. Photogenic started it one time over IM by saying, "Oh my god! Food is your girlfriend!" In a lot of ways, it's true. I have recently been spending large amounts of time cooking and eating. I think about food and cooking techniques all day while I sit like veal in my cubicle at the Corporation. It just takes up so much time, much like having a girfriend does. But unlike a girlfriend, food is easier to appease. You don't have to guess what food is thinking. Food doesn't give you shit for going out partying with your friends or spending time with another woman. And just like a girlfriend, food can be sweet, bitter, salty (heh heh heh), and sour. Food's scent can send you to the moon. Food can be delicate or domineering. It can be sophisticated or pedestrian. Food are all of the things that a girlfriend can be, and it just so seems that I am enraptured in a torrid love affair with food.
This Valentine's Day, since it will be a Monday, I will be working at Chez Henri. There will be a special Valentine's Day menu and I anticipate that the dining room will be packed to the gills with men and women who follow Hallmark and pop culture like sheep follow shepherds to the slaughter. I, on the other hand, will be getting the better deal. I think that it will be so busy there that I will be working a station that will be getting slammed all night long. It'll be great. It will be non-stop action. I can't wait. I love filling the orders and shouting, "Firing onion soup!" "Bob, can you please drop a tamale for me!" and "Behind you!" I think it will be a lot of fun. So that's what I'll be looking forward to tomorrow.
This weekend was pretty cool. I had a really good time. It started on Friday, when Rebound Girl came into town. She was staying with No Legs and Giggle Boy out in Framingham after her interview at Clark University. The four of us and Carpenter all went out to dinner at The Cambridge Common and then went out dancing. We were going to try to go to the bar side of Chez Henri, but there was an hour wait for a table there. It's kind of a shame, though. I really think that Rebound Girl would have dug the Profiteroles.
Dancing at Swing City was an interesting experience. Rebound Girl, No Legs and I figured out just how out of shape we were when we got out on the floor. Back in the day, I think that all of us could have gone for three or four dances in a row before needing to sit out. This time around, we danced one and had to sit out one or two, danced one, and had to sit out one or two more. It was a pathetic showing by all of us.
I danced with a number of people that I hadn't danced with in a long time, for obvious reasons. I was welcomed back by a number of people as well. There was this one girl who I kind of had a mild crush on, back in the day who had fallen out of the scene as well and had just started coming back recently who I saw. She was great to dance with. Some of the songs that the band played were just too fast though. My body just doesn't move that quick anymore. By the end of the night, the three of us were hurting. It was sooooo pathetic.
After dancing, the five of us went to IHOP, just like old time. It was a lot of fun. The jokes kept coming and it just felt like being with family. Carpenter showed his age a little bit, though. He fell asleep on Rebound Girl's shoulder. It was kind of amusing.
I slept in pretty late on Saturday morning. I earned it though. I worked hard all week long, had been up until four in the morning two nights in a row, and played hard on Friday night. I most certainly earned it. I chilled out for most of the afternoon at home. I watched some TV and hung out while The Violent One made cheesecakes. That evening, I went to a friend's surprise b-day party. Sweet Scent came with me because she had just been accepted into a Ph.D. program at U.C. Davis, so no matter what, she will be leaving Boston before the end of the calendar year. So we ate, we drank, and we played games. It was a pretty hum drum party, but it did the job.
Today kicked ass though. I slept in again, today. Actually, the phone woke me up early with Japanaphile seeing if I wanted to do anything. I told him that I had plans and I invited him along. I told him that we had plans for three, but had to be there early, so he should be at my place at one, so we can leave at half past one and then we would get there at two and be ready for three. It didn't happen that way.
The next time I opened my eyes after that phone call, it was shortly after one. It was Japanaphile. He was outside the house. Shit. So Whisper let him in, and I took a shower. We were still off by shortly after half past. We even stopped to get coffee.
The pre-existing plans for today were to see "Born Into Brothels" with Ebonically Lingusitic. When I lived in East Cambridge, my landlord slipped two complementary passes to the Kendall Square Cinema, which were to expire at the end of this month. Since the next two weekends were booked, I had to use them this weekend. I had read about the movie on either CNN.com or Boston.com and it sounded really interesting to me. So I definitely wanted to see it. Luckily enough, it played at the Kendall Square Cinema.
The movie was absolutely amazing. These kids were incredible people. One of the kids had this incredible grasp on art. He knew what angles looked good, why a composition was interesting. He was so, incredibly talented. There was a point where is future was in question, and it really got an emotional response out of me. "How is it possible that this child could be allowed to fail?" All of these children in the movie were incredibly bright, despite being brought up in the Red Light District of Calcutta. This one girl, Puja, was whipsmart. She had an incredibly strong personality. It came out in her photographs and in the way she talked. It was absolutely heartwrenching seeing these children in the environment that they were in. I wanted to scoop them all up and bring them to boarding schools in the States. Some of these kids will inevitably end up working "on the line." It's not the same as "cooking the line" like I do. It means standing there waiting on the street for men to grope them and take them somewhere to get fucked. It's not at all cool. It's not their choice. It's what they're born into. I would recommend this movie to anyone who likes documentaries. It thought it was very well made. It has made me want to purchase the companion photo book, just because I feel like I would be contributing the small amount that I can to their charity.
After the movie, Ebonically Linguistic, Japanaphile and I went to the Cambridge Brewing Company for snack and conversation. It was a really chilled time. I dug it a lot. After the snack, we came back to my place, where I looked over seven or eight paella recipes. That was the dinner project for the night. I wanted to make paella. So after a half hour or so, we went to Star Market to pick up the necessary ingredients.
I didn't start cooking until about half past seven, and dinner wasn't on the table until about nine or a quarter past nine. I made a spinach salad with belgian endive that was dressed with a citrus vinegarette and a chicken, sausage and clam paella. The salad came out fantastic. I applied a lot of the techniques that I picked up working at Chez Henri. I thought it was a massive success. The paella, on the other hand, wasn't a failure, but there were definitely things that I needed to work on. First of all, I needed to let the clams soak longer. They were still quite sandy, and it kind of ruined it for me. Second, it was kind of watery. I think I needed to let it simmer uncovered for a little longer to let some of the water evaporate. It's something that I'll work on for next time. Other than that, the paella was pretty damn good. I thought that the flavors married quite well. It wasn't too salty, too bland, too spicy or anything. It was very nice. It felt like a very homey kind of a dish. There were six of us (Photogenic, Whisper, Ebonically Lingusitic, Carpenter, Japanaphile and I) eating, and I think I had two to three potions left over. There was more chicken left over than anything. The chicken was in large pieces, so I think that when people wanted to pick, they just picked at the rice, veggies and sausage. I think I get an A for effort, a B/-B for presentation, and a B for overall taste and goal achievement.
Anyways, I have a long day ahead of me tomorrow. I should get some sleep. So it's off to bed with me. I hope my girlfriend appreciates me spending time with her tomorrow. I hope she knows that I love her.
Hello, My Name Is Chinito Listening: But we live and learn. What you did in turn made me never have to settle for less. And would I deserve and once you mature, girl, you'll always be second best.
Ooh. I just found the lyrics to Lyrics Born's "I Changed My Mind" and man do these lyrics just cut. They scathe. Ouch. I'd hate to be the girl that he was talking about. But, I have to admit, there are a few girls who I would have liked to say these words to. It is a most eloquent middle finger. Beautiful. Truly beautiful.
Anyways, it's been a minute. Since the last time I wrote, a lot and not much has happened. We'll start out on Thursday with the interview. So, I was called into the conference room for the interview. It was my boss, the hot manager, and me. I have to say that this was the strangest interview ever, but I rocked it like it was no one's business. They came at me with a quiz. Half of it was stuff that I should know, and half of it was stuff that I should have no clue. I knew all of the stuff that they asked me that I should have known and I logic-ed through or remembered from random bouts of seeing my boss calculate things out. They were impressed by some of my answers. They actually prefaced the quiz by saying, "Some of these things you may not know, but just give them a stab anyways," in which I responded, "Well, from what I learned at my old job on the other side of the business is that you don't necessarily need to have all of the answers in your brain. It's more of knowing who knows the answers to the questions and the right questions to ask them." They were impressed by that. I could see it on their faces. Actually, I just said that just to see what kind of reaction I could get from them. So, they asked me a bunch of client service questions, which I just knocked out of the park without even flexing a brain cell. It was pretty ridiculous though.
The only reasons that they would have to not promote me would be because I come in late all of the time and because I have only been in the group for six months. I get the feeling over the past couple of days my boss has been test driving me and one other kid. He has been asking us to help out other people in our team. And from what I have seen, these kids have been taught improperly. It was a bit disappointing. I kind of wish that everyone had been taught by the guy who taught me. He wasn't as thorough at the work as I am, but at least he teaches people how to research their shit and not to just make numbers fit. It's like they've been taught to be the numbers' chump. See, now I am the numbers' daddy. I command the numbers. The numbers are my bitch and I smack them around.
Anyways, onto bigger and better things... like my Friday night, which I spent in. I just sort of hung around the apartment, because I don't want to spend as much money as I have the past couple of weekends and because I needed to be up early on Saturday. I just sort of hung out and chilled with the roomies. I think I did so little on Friday night that I can't even remember what I did. It's weird. I had to ask my roomie what I did on Friday night.
Saturday, I was up early. I had read in the Metro that there was going to be a free cooking class at Maggiano's called "Real Men Cook." It was geared towards men who wanted to cook for their significant other for Valentine's Day. On the menu were crabcakes with mustard aioli and caper relish, minestrone soup, New York Steak Contadina, and citrus creme brulee. I said to myself, "Hey, it's free... Why not?" So I got my ass up at nine in the morning on a weekend (which never ever happens unless absolutely necessary) and trucked myself over to Maggiano's.
I was running about five minutes behind, but luckily when I got there, they hadn't started. Unluckily, I wasn't able to make coffee to drink that morning. Luckily, they provided coffee... and beer apparently. The cooking class was sponsored by Harpoon, so they had free IPA for everyone. So, at ten fifteen, following my first cup of coffee in the morning, I had my first glass of beer. I alternated beer and coffee, which was kind of weird, but I guess it couldn't be any worse than Red Bull and vodka. I think a porter or a stout would have been better with the coffee, but you know what they say about beggars.
The class was mostly older men. There were a couple of college aged guys, maybe five, but the rest were middle aged to elderly. I was luckily seated with a pair of fifty-something year old friends, a man and a woman, who had also read about the class in the Metro. They were nice. I see myself and Glare being like them when we get older. Both were food nuts and who loved to cook. The thing is that they were good cooks, but they were recipe followers. I talked to them quite a bit and I think I may have inspired them to do a little improvisation. They seemed thoroughly impressed with my knowledge and my ambition when I told them what I did for money and what I intended to do about becoming a cook. I don't think that I could have had a better set of people to sit next to.
The cooking class itself was more of a demo than a class. It was taught by Anthony Fazio, the executive chef at Maggiano's. I know that Maggiano's is a chain restaurant, but I figured that I can always pick up bits and pieces here and there. Basically, the cooks did the cooking while Fazio walked around and explained what was going on. There was little to no hands on kind of stuff. A few peopel got to get up there and do some stuff. But, all in all, he did a good job of holding the attention of the people and making it look easy. I definitely think that I could apply what I saw there. I don't know about the strip steak though. It kind of looked like a behemoth cut. I'm starting to have an affinity for the onglet cut that we serve at Chez Henri. It's tender, flavorful, and juicy if cooked right.
I think that the score of the class was that we got to eat everything that was prepared. Each of us got a bowl of soup and the three of us at our table shared two crab cakes, a New York Strip Steak, and two creme brulees. And since Harpoon sponsored the event, it was all free. How awesome is that? Apparently they have cooking classes every second Saturday of the month for ten dollars, which includes all of the food, plus wine and such. I think it's a pretty good deal, something fun to do on a Saturday morning. Even though I wasn't immensely impressed, I think that I could still pick up bits and pieces of information.
After class, I ended up hanging out with Carpenter who was out hanging out on Newbury Street. I had fun talking with the girl at Kitchen Arts. We chatted it up about espresso makers, knives, steels and so on and so forth. Carpenter got into the action as well. We checked out a bunch of music stores and I lusted after some Scissor Sisters albums and the new Madeline Peyroux album, but I just ended up finding them on Limewire when I came home.
If you haven't heard either Scissor Sisters or Madeline Peyroux, I would highly recommend them. Scissor Sisters is kind of a downtempo electronic band, and Madeline Peyroux is a jazz singer with a most amazing voice. She's very Billie Holiday.
After getting a ride home from Carpenter, I passed out from about five in the evening until nine or so, when I fixed myself some dinner and watched Mean Girls. It was surprisingly entertaining in a "I didn't even put this on the Netflix queue" kind of way. I thought all of the manipulation was hilarious and that the stupidity was unparalleled. Tina Fey is a hottie too, that made the movie much more enjoyable. Tim Meadows has an entertaining part in the movie too. I say, if it's around, watch it. If not, don't worry about it.
And that was the extent of my Saturday.
Sunday morning, I was woken up by my phone ringing. It was Ebonically Linguistic. My apartment was having people over for the Super Bowl, and she was one of those people. Actually, it was kind of a loose thing. Photogenic and I had been talking about it, but neither of us got off our asses to formally invite anyone. So, by the time Sunday morning rolled around, it was just myself, Photogenic and Ebonically Linguistic. Whisper was off doing some family business and we didn't know if The Violent One would be back from an audition by the time the game started. So, she was calling to ask if we needed help with groceries and such and when she should come over. I told her to come over whenever, because we did in fact need help with groceries, seeing as we didn't know what we would be making for dinner, as it was just the three of us. She said that she would be over at four and we would go from there.
After hanging up with her, I looked at my phone and saw that I had voicemail. It was Harley. I completely flaked. She was having a dim sum day for her birthday, and I was running late. I got there about a half hour late and most of the people had finished eating. Doh! So I sat down, ate a bit and talked with a bunch of folks. I met a couple of people from her grad school program who were pretty nice. I was asked by one girl, who unfortunately had a fiance, if wanting to become a chef was getting me girls. I told her that I hadn't worn the mantle long enough to find out. The I told her that my day job was in finance, and she asked me if I would be her sugar daddy. Too bad she had the fiancee, because I totally would have given her some sugar.
I got home at around a half past three, and talked to my father on the phone about taxes. I thought that I had everything that I needed. Apparently, I was wrong. I guess I'm waiting for one or two more pieces of information. I hate the waiting game. I thought that I had finally received the last piece of information when I got my W-2 from my day job. I have two more things to wait on.
So, three thirty became four and four became four thirty and still no Ebonically Linguistic. So, I gave her a call and she said that she was running late and would be there around five. So, I spun some records and hit up the liquor store. I bought two sixes of a couple of my favorite beers, and inteded on buying a couple of bottles of the Trimbach Gewurtztraminer, but alas they were out.
When I got back from the liquor store, Photogenic told me that the entirety of the FKB would be stopping by for the game. All four of them plus one girlfriend. That bumped three up to eight and then if The Violent One made it back, nine.
Ebonically Linguistic made it over to my place at about five, and we headed off to the grocery store. We bought a lot of shit, and as it turns out, much more shit than we needed. I made buffalo chicken strips from scratch. We had ice cream, root beer, soda, pie, brownies, chips, the whole nine. While they all watched the game and the commercials, I fried up chicken. It was a good time for me though. I, apparently, caught the only commercial worth seeing. I finshed cooking in the third quarter and took a little nap on the floor. Of course, the Pats won. No big surprise, but both teams played like ass. That'll show owners to pay millions and millions of dollars on a single player.
Monday, the day job was pretty humdrum. The night job, on the other hand was out of control. We got mildly slammed, but not to the point where both racks were filled with tickets. We must have had like twenty VIPs that night. Bob's cousins, his brother, the kitchen manager from Upstairs At The Square were just a few. Apparently, Upstairs has been looking for cooks for a while, but no self-respecting cook will work there. I guess it's bad working conditions. Bob said that there are some people who are phenomenal cooks who just don't have what it takes to be a restaurant chef, and that they would be better off being personal chefs. I thought long and hard about that idea, and I wonder if I have what it takes to run my own kitchen. I hope I do.
Monday was also the first night that I worked with injury. I got a small cut at the base of my middle finger on my right hand. It's like a large paper cut. Do you know what it's like to toss and plate greens that have been dressed with lime juice and seasoned with salt and pepper when you have a little cut like that? It hurts like a bitch, but you know what, you toss and plate the greens, put it in the window and move on to the next one. You say, "Fuck you, lime juice and salt... You're just pissed that you weren't destined for a margarita!"
Today was a differentl story. I got slammed at work, because I was helping this one new girl with some work. She had been taught how to do it completely wrong. She was taught the whats, but not the whys, so when circumstances changed, she was doing things the wrong way, and nothing made sense. My manager sent me over there to help her fix what had been wrong for a couple of days. It took me a good couple of hours to sort out what the kid who was "helping" her yesterday had done. She wasn't printing out the proper reports. She wasn't using all of her resources, because no one ever told her about them. It was so bad that I didn't get a chance to get lunch until four in the afternoon. I knew that I had to get lunch, because I was already tired, and if I didn't get anything in my stomach, I wouldn't make it through my shift at Chez Henri.
Luckily, I was out of the office at six and was at Chez Henri by half past six. Unluckily, it was unbelievably slow. I did a couple of new things today. I finished creme brulee for the first time. I used a kitchen torch and everything. We're not talking about one of these tiny pieces of shit that they peddle at William-Sonoma or Crate & Barrel. This bitch had some octane to it. Out of three creme brulees, I only fucked up one of them. Luckily, the layer of sugar that I put on (which was part of the mistake in the first place) was thick enough that I could scrape off the carbon. It took a while for me to get used to the idea that releasing the trigger didn't mean the gas stopped. I had to crank the gas off from the back of the torch. The trigger was just to ignite.
I have also taken on two names in the kitchen. Since there are two other people at Chez Henri who share my first name, Justin has been calling me ZEN!!! and Bob asked me about it today as well. He thinks it's cool. So, I am no longer called by my given name there. They are calling me ZEN!!! from now on.
In addition, all of the latino guys there are calling me Chinito. There were people who I worked with at Bertucci's back in the day that called me Chinito, and I didn't like it. I thought it was reducing me to my ethnicity. Now that I becoming kind of comrades with all of these people, I don't mind the name so much. Maybe back when I worked at Bertucci's, I felt like I was above them and that that name was their way of evening the playing field. However, I'm embracing it at Chez Henri. I like all of these guys that I'm working with and I think they like me. They call Tony the Crazy Gringo or Cowboy. They can call me Chinito.
But working with these guys, really makes me wish that I knew Spanish. I'm hoping to pick up a little on the job. A few months ago, I thought that I would like to learn French so that I would be able to get all of the cooking vocabulary, but since I started working in a kitchen, I really think that Spanish is the way to go. I will learn the french food vocabulary anyways. I have to learn Spanish to communicate with a bunch of the workers. I think that if I work with Jose again, I may try to do a language exchange with him. He has been in the States for three years and is doing pretty well with the English, but he's hungry to get better. It's funny. Back in Guatemala, he did accounting type work too and decided that he hated it too. I was amused.
I also had my first war wound in the kitchen today too, but it can hardly be considered a war wound. I was shucking oysters, working on a really tough one, when I plunged into the oyster and my right index knuckle ran into the oyster shell. I have a little dot from that. It hurt like a bitch when it happened, and even bled a little, but I can barely see it now.
That was the extent of work today. I ate a staff meal for dinner. The orders never really rolled in at all today. It was boring as shit. I did a lot of talking with people. I watched Israel make stuffed trout and poached salmon like a pro. It turns out that he is Jose's cousin and used to be sous chef at Chez Henri. He left for another restaurant, but decided that he didn't like it there and came back. Unfortunately, the job was taken, so now he's just a line cook who can run three of the stations like a pro. Hell, he is a pro.
A few revalations that I have had over the past couple of days... First of all, I think I may need chef's clogs pretty damn soon. When I have gotten home from Chez Henri, my heels have been hurting something fierce for the first half hour that I'm home. I have been wearing my Doc Marten's, but they're not really right for the job. They have shitty traction on wet rubber floor mats and the stairs down to the changing area, and shoes with laces generally harbour more bacteria than slip ons. So, I need to look around for chef's clogs. I think that they can be quite expensive, but if they're going to provide better standing support and will be less slippery on the floor, I think that they could be a wise investment.
Another revelation that I have had, actually came from Glare earlier today. She reminded me that a lot of places down on Cape Cod will hire summer cooks and will include free housing. I figure if I don't get this promotion, I could quit really early and just get a job cooking down on the Cape for a summer, just like Anthony Bourdain did. That would be a killer summer for before going to culinary school.
Anyways, it's a quarter past three. I have to go to sleep. Lots more in the works for me. Big, big plans. Stay tuned!
What It's All About (Not The Hokey Pokey, Though...) Listening: I see you watching me just like a hawk. I don’t mind the way you talk. But if you touch me, something’s gotta give. I live the life I love and I love the life I live.
I've thought a lot about it lately. It has just been on my mind. Over the last couple of months, I have really grown. I mean, I have really had some high quality growth in the last couple of months. It's not to say that I'm all grown up or that I'm done growing, but I have kind of started to build momentum. It's like I'm on a swing trying to get higher and higher with each pump of my legs. But, man, it feels good. It feels good to be going somewhere. Like Matthew Wilder said back in the eighties, "Ain’t nothing gonna break my stride, nobody gonna slow me down, oh, no. I’ve got to keep on moving. Ain’t nothing gonna break my stride. I’m running and I won’t touch ground, oh, no. I’ve got to keep on moving."
A lot of my friends are really psyched and supportive of me. Today, Fester IMed me and told me how psyched he was to hear that I'm finally in a kitchen and that I'm doing well with it. Ebonically Linguistic is constantly asking me how it [working at Chez Henri] was and what I learned that day.
I'm faced with making some tough decisions when it comes to culinary school, but I relish the process of making the decisions. I eat, sleep, dream, breathe and drink the culinary arts. At work, when I get a few minutes, I check the forums and see what they have to say about different topics. Today, I learned the difference between German knife blades and French knife blades. I have realized that my knives really are too small for anything more than prep work, and have started looking around at more knives, not like I have the cash to buy them. I have also been looking at clogs to wear in the kitchen (because, really, regular shoes harbor more bacteria and may not be as supportive on long shifts) and a variety of other things for the home. I came across a restaurant supply website that had seven inch heavy aluminum pans which are heavy duty enough to be put in an oven for just under eight dollars. Damn. I think I would forego buying a used CD just so I could have a pan I could stick in the oven to finish foods with.
But, a couple of months ago, I used to blame a lot of things on other people and on circumstances. The thing is, those people did have an effect and those circumstances were in place for that moment in time. However, I really am in control of my life. I am. I am the one who could get off his ass and knock on restaurant doors. I am the one who can rock the garde manager station like a mofugga after two days on the job. I am the one who can fill out applications and take each step towards the place that I want to be in. There are always reasons to stay where you are, in the comfy cushy office chair, chucking fifiteen percent at the retirement fund, moving other people's money, drinking your worries away, surfing the internet and watching television. What happened was I thought about it. If my life was blinked out of existance, and I had one last flash of my life, would I be satisfied? The answer was, "no." I would not be satisfied with the person that I was or the life that I led. Sure, I would be happy with my friends and what I did for them. I would be happy with the time that I spent with them. But, does that make me all that I can be? Not really. So I reached. I've got my fingertips on the brass ring and it gets closer with each pass. If I fall off, at least I know I tried to be the best person that I could be.
The really humorous thing about it all is that I have an interview tomorrow at eleven in the morning for a promotion at my nine to five. What a bunch of poor saps who get to interview me. It's my manager and another manager who is also looking to fill a position. I'm kind of taking the "Office Space" approach to the interview. If I get it, that's nice. If I don't, oh well. I don't really give a shit either way. I don't really care enough to put out the extra effort for a measly twenty extra in my paycheck. I know I produce quality work and that I am a stickler for details. I know that I don't necessarily follow every rule and am not a model employee when it comes to getting into work on time or dressing the part of an office clone. So, if they want someone who is going to get the job done and get it done well, I'm their man. If they want someone who cares about being on time, even if every day they have about four to six hours of downtime (not including lunch), who will only casually make sure numbers match, well, they're barking up the wrong rice patty. I have better things outside of that job. I am going to leave that job in the office no matter what. So I'll take the extra twenty and the new title. It doesn't mean anything to me, because I'm never going to do anything with the title, and twenty isn't even enough to cover one night's bar tab. It might cover one if I had been drinking heavily the night before and I wasn't in the mood to booze the next night. But, yeah. I could give two shits.
Strangely enough, though, I take immense pleasure in doing the craziest things at Chez Henri. A good example is cleaning oysters. I had to do a tin of those the other day. You have to wash them in cold water as to not kill them, so naturally, your hands freeze as you have cold water running over them. Justin said I should just use the brush and brush them against the side of the sink, as to not have to have one of your hands freeze off. But I decided that I would do it right, picking up each oyster, scrubbing the grime off of each side and rinsing it clean under the cold water. I enjoyed it though. My hands hurt from being so cold, but I enjoyed it.
It's strange how much more interesting finishing a serving of French onion soup or tossing some greens (as opposed to tossing someone's salad... not something I'm interested in) is. You'd figure that it would be much more interesting figuring out where people are putting their money and why, but that's not the case for me. I am on a mission to assualt the senses of each and every person who has a ticket come into my meez. I am there to wow them. I am there to make them a stronger person. In the process, I grow stronger every day.
I'm The Uptight One Listening: Take your dreams, where nobody can find them. Come on. You know I won't be happy till you've won. So come on. Come on over, borrow my clover. Is there anything left that you haven't done?
So, it's a quarter to two and I have been in bed for a good two to two and a half hours. I was dead tired when I got home. I stayed at the nine to five until a quarter past seven today, just so that I would only have three more month end things to do when I got into work tomorrow. Today was one of those days where I just worked my tail off all day long. I saw the e-mail distribution list that a bunch of my friends are on whiz by. I only responded once to about fifty short messages throughout the day. Ebonically Linguistic shot me a personal e-mail, but I didn't even have time to respond to that. Actually, I like it a little bit more when I'm busy during the day. It makes the day go quicker and it makes life's little annoyances fade into the background.
Today, I brought leftovers from Sunday's dinner of herb roasted chicken, sauteed mushroom gravy, garlic sauteed broccoli rabe, and parmigiano-reggiano polenta. My boss knows that I love to cook and that I'm interning at Chez Henri, so he's always interested in what I'm eating. He always seems thoroughly impressed. Sometimes he asks me how I make things, and I tell him. People in my work group have also started asking me for restaurant recommendations and for places to take dates out to. My standard questions are: "How hot is she?" and "How much do you want to spend?" The funny thing is that some of these people are looking for four star food at ten to fifteen a plate. That doesn't so much happen unless you're going for down-home cooking. If you want food porn, you're looking to spend at least fifteen, but more likely twenty to thirty a plate.
Anyways, so I was in bed for a couple of hours already. I conked out while watching Queer Eye at eleven, so I decided to pack it in and try to go to sleep. It's amazing. The second I hit my own bed, I can't sleep. It's so unfortunately fuct.
While I lay there listening to my sleep mix, I did a lot of thinking about the people that I have been working with at Chez Henri. They're all so relaxed and easy. I feel like I'm the uptight one of the crowd. I think that this is in part due to the fact that I have been white collar for the majority of my life. Sure, I've raked leaves and mowed lawns. I've done dishes and laundry, but I have never had a "back breaking" job. Never as a kid, did I ever slave away in a pizza parlor or bus dishes at an Olive Garden. I had it cushy. Now, I'm in the mix with these guys. I have to adapt and loosen up.
I don't feel like I'm on their level of relaxation. There have been a number of times where Justin asked me if I was okay, because I looked stressed or worried. I really wasn't all that stressed or worried. I was coming off of a month end workday and I had just dropped empanadas into the fryer for the first time and had my eye on them to make sure that they wouldn't come out black. I think that because I'm still new, I'm not quite at their comfort level. Hell, they're all seasoned professionals and I'm just a guy playing Swedish Chef minus the moustache, the messiness and the "bork, bork, bork." I'm working on it though. I hope to be like them someday; easy to laugh and joke, relaxed shoulders, quick, asbestos hands, an artful eye, and lewd and polite in the same breath. That's who I want to be.
Another thought that I had as I lay in bed was that the cooks and chefs that I work with would all make great photograph portrait subjects. I can imagine all of them with their arms crossed over their soiled chef's coats. The three greatest influences on me in Chez Henri would probably be the best, because they're all very different. Justin is tall and skinny. He has short dark hair and scruff that could be a mildly overgrown five o'clock shadow. His eyes are slightly sunken in and he has a big smile. I don't think that a smile would be right though. I think that if you were to have him just stand there looking serious, you would get the feeling of being worn out after a hard day's work. Bob is slightly more jovial. He's shorter, about five foot eight or nine. He is fuller in the face, has a small muskrat and a long chestnut brown ponytail of hair. He I could see leaning back with a smile or a laugh. Paul... He's just a bit of a contrast from the other two. His hair is much lighter than the other two. He has an almost light redish kind of color to it. When he cooks the line, he isn't really all that clean shaven. I've seen him when he's just stopping in and he's cleaner cut, but is wearing a leather motocycle jacket as opposed to a chef's coat. Paul's height is inbetween that of Bob and of Justin. He's a little bit chunkier, but is by no means big and round. I could see him in either the jovial or the serious pose.
Anyways, if I was a photographer, I would totally try to make them my subjects. I think a lot of cooks have interesting looks to their faces. They're worn, to an extent. I think it would be pretty cool to take their photographs in black and white, make them eight by tens, and hang them on my wall while I'm attending culinary school, so that should I ever lose heart, I can remember my time starting out as an intern with these fantastic guys. I know it sounds really cheesy, but I think it would be pretty cool.
It's half past two now. I should get some sleep. Damn it's hot as balls up in this piece. I need some A/C or something. Maybe I'm just living in a grill.
Elated Listening: Thanks to all that you made me replace, for all you gave to me you left on my face.
Do you know what it's like to be psyched to go to work? Take a look at yourself, and ask yourself that question. If the answer is, "no," ask yourself why that is. I never knew what it was to want to go to work until I started working at Chez Henri. I had no clue what it was about. I didn't know what it was to want to haul ass out of whereever I was just to get to the place of my employment as early as I could possibly be there. I didn't know what it was like to be completely amped and wired at work. I didn't know what it was like to have to settle down once I got home because I was on a natural high from working. I never knew that.
I wonder how many people in the world actually are amped to go to work in the morning, who can't wait to do what they do. I know that there are a lot of people in search of the golden paycheck, or work constantly just because the have to in order to not be stampeded by work. I think that what I'm doing at Chez Henri is much more fulfilling than that. I'm not doing it for the money. I'm not doing it because I have to do it. I'm working because I want to do it. I'm doing it because it makes me feel more soulful.
Today, at Chez Henri, there was more of what I did last week. Today was a little bit different, because there was less Chorizo being made and more Ceviche and Spinach Salad with Duck Tamale. Of course the Cuban Sandwiches kept coming, but I still learned a lot. I'm working on my timing a lot more. The things that I worked most on today were the timing of my dishes, so they didn't sit in the window too long, using the deep fryer, and not being afraid of the grill. You know, normally I'm all up on a grill. The difference with this grill is that what I'm making has to be perfect, or close to perfect. My grilled Cubans weren't perfect, but I tried though. I get better and better with each order.
I also did a lot of dessert plating today too. I learned a couple of things from that too. First of all, I hate scooping ice cream. The stuff that we have is hard as a rock. It's frozen solid, so when I'm done with even one out of the three scoops for an order of ice cream or sorbet, my forearms are burning. Oh is it hell. Another thing that I'm learning is good bottle technique. When plating dessert or covering with chocolate sauce, it's important to know where it's going to squirt out. I made a mistake with a warm chocolate sauce bottle and pretty much spooged all over the plate. Justin laughed at me. Hell, I laughed at me. I also had a hard time making some of my lines as defined as I wanted them to be. I'm sure it all comes with time. Finally, in the arena of plating, I learned that leaving mint off of a dessert plate is like leaving the house in the morning without brushing your teeth. The only reason you should do it is if you don't have any mint or toothpaste.
Justin continues to be a great teacher. He's laid back, efficient, funny and just a good guy. Today, we spent a lot of the day talking about sushi and about how his girlfriend is a communist, I mean, a vegetarian. I gave him directions to New Deal Fish Market and to Super 88 so that he could pick up supplies. He was incredibly psyched about that.
Tomorrow, I won't get to work. There's going to be a private function at Chez Henri, so they won't really need people cooking the line. Even Justin will only be in for prep. He'll prolly be going home early. So, tomorrow, instead of cooking the line, I'm going to try to clean my room and shoot an e-mail to Chris Schlessinger at East Coast Grill or Ian W. Just at Les Zygomates to see if I can get another night of work. A guy, Tony, who was a new guy working the grill station today said that the East Coast Grill was really into helping people do what I was doing for Chez Henri. He said to drop his name or just tell them that "the asshole with the cowboy hat" sent me. I may just do that. I would love to be cooking the line three or four days a week. Two days at Chez Henri and two days at East Coast Grill or Les Zygomates would be awesome.
I am so energized after cooking the line. I just want that feeling all of the time. I want to hear the lewd jokes. I want to feed people. Aww, man. This is my calling.
I know I haven't written a lot lately. I had a busy weekend. I'll write about that more later. For now, I need to crash so I can deal with month end reporting at my nine to five. Oh whoopi-dee-doo. Someone had better get me in the kitchen and get me in the kitchen quick.
