Hired! Hired! Tired, But Hired! Listening: I think I realized just in time, although my old self was hard to find. You bathe me in your finest wine but I'll never give you mine, 'cause I'm a little bit tired of fearing that I'll be the bad fruit nobody buys.
A week of being the man, this was. A lot happened. I think it really broke from business as usual on Wednesday afternoon. I spent the morning teaching the Fobby-FOB how to run weekly reports. The kid is not too bright. He focuses on tiny details that have nothing to do with what he's doing. He looks at all of the extrenious details and not at any of the important details or the broad concepts. I guess that can be considered business as usual though. Fuckin' moron.
The oddities started at around two in the afternoon when my cell phone rang. I was at work, but I'm no stranger to having my cell buzz my balls as it's on vibrate all day long. Occasionally I'll get a call regarding culinary school or from The Violent One about a phone number when she's on the road. But, as of late, my cell phone calls have been increasingly more cool. A couple of weeks ago, a woman that I worked for at Beer Summit called to pretty much offer me a part time job. She needs an area rep, and I was the first person to come to mind. That was a couple of weeks ago though. This time, it was Mark, the sous chef at Chez Henri. The conversation went something like this:
(ZEN!!! looks at the phone and doesn't recognize the number)
ZEN!!!: Uhh... Hello? Mark: Hey, ZEN!!!, it's Mark from the restaurant. ZEN!!!: Oh, hey, dude. What's going on? Mark: You interested in making some extra money? ZEN!!!: Sure, what's up? Mark: Jose and Greg both called in sick today, so we need some help tonight. Are you free to come in and work? ZEN!!! Yeah, I can come in. Mark: Sweet. Thanks a lot. (Shouting in the background) Mark: Oh, and Tania wants to know if you're interesting in working another benefit a week from Thursday. ZEN!!!: Tell her I'm down for it. Mark: Yeah, Tania, he's in. Hey, why the fuck don't we have your number? I had to call [Special K] down in fuckin' Miami. Can you believe he's in fuckin' Miami? Bastard. ZEN!!!: You probably don't have my number because I'm not on the payroll. Mark: Well, shit. I'll pay you for your time tonight. I'll cut you a check. ZEN!!!: Hey, whatever. It's all good. Mark: Alright. I'll see you later.
So on Wednesday night, I went into Chez Henri and I worked for some extra scratch. It was an overall slow night. Justin and I had a good time goofing off.
Thursday, I worked the nine to five and I was supposed to go see a play with The Violent One, but when I met up with her after work, I was completely blitzed. I was exhausted and I needed to do laundry, so I bailed on her. I had dinner with her and then I bailed out to go home. I was already short on drawls. Hell, the pair that I was wearing had a few peek-a-boo holes in it. I knew that I would be short on time on Friday, as well as for the rest of the weekend, so it really was for the best. So, for the majority of Thursday night I did laundry inbetween catnaps in various positions on the floor of the living room. Four full loads, some overstuffed so that they were still damp coming out of the dryer. I gotta judge better next time.
Friday, I had an extremely full day. Since it was Good Friday, I didn't have to work the nine to five at the Corporation. I did have other things on my plate though. Though I had things to do I slept in until eleven. It felt nice. It was something I needed. Over the past three days of working both the nine to five as well as the extra four and a half hours on my feet at Chez Henri, I was tapped and my feet were sore as fuck. Both pairs of my Dr. Martens are so well worn that the arches inside are just completely gone. This, in turn, makes standing for those four and a half hours extremely uncomfortable. It doesn't hurt so much when I'm working, but when I get home, my feet kill. So, I left the house at about noon or so and headed down to Berks in Harvard Square.
Berks is a shoe store that has a lot of clogs and Berkinstocks in addition to sneakers, boots and Dr. Martens. I have been doing my research and I have found that a lot of the cooks and chefs wear clogs in the kitchen because of their ergonomic shape. It takes a lot of the pressure off of your feet when you're standing for long periods of times. So I have pretty much been looking at the Dansko Professional clog, as they have been getting the best reviews. I tried them on, and they seemed alright. It was a little weird walking with a heel, but it wasn't like they were three inch stillettos. OC Girl e-mailed me and suggested that I try the Professional Berkis. I tried them on at Berks as well. They were completely different. These were flat clogs (without a heel) made of plastic with a removable insole. Apparently, the insole can be taken off and the shoes can be thrown into a dishwasher. It took me about an hour of trying both pairs on before I decided on the Danskos. Although the Berkis were dishwasher safe and were a bit wider, I thought that they were too loose in the uppers and tended to slip off my feet. In addition, I didn't feel like it had an adequate arch support. The Danskos, though had slightly less toe room, had a heel, which would be really helpful for me reaching things in the kitchen, and had a more comfortable leather upper.
Again, since I didn't have to work the nine to five, I ended up spending a full day at Chez Henri. I was in at a quarter past two and dove headlong into prep work. It was interesting because neither Justin nor Jose closed yesterday. It was Greg, and he does a shit job. Justin and I had our work cut out for us. I started out by washing oysters, spraying mud and dirt all over my chef's coat as I scrubbed them over with a brush and froze my hands off under the cold water. Next, I made the citrus vinegarette for the green salad. That was pretty fun. I got to zest three limes, three lemons, three oranges and two grapefruits before juicing them all. Last time that I did it, the grapefruits just sucked. I couldn't get good ribbons off of them. I realized something this time, though. The ribbons off the grapefruit really don't have to travel both hemispheres. Since it's twice the size of the other fruits that I was zesting, I could zest the top half and then the bottom half, because a the length of one hemisphere's zest ribbons would be as long as a whole orange, lemon or lime. Wikkid smaht am I.
Friday, we took the three tastes prix fixe appetizer off and replaced it with escargot. I was so happy that we took that app off. I couldn't stand it. The plating sucked and it used these god awful lima beans. Blech! So, we made some butter to put in with the escargot. It was made with shallots, garlic, salt, pepper, and I believe, some red wine vinegar. I'm going to have to check the recipe again though.
Another new thing for the night was that I met the trailer that I heard about earlier in the week. She's considering going to culinary school, and just wants to know what she's in for. She seemed pretty cool. Her fiancee is an architecht, and she used to be a nanny. Now she's unemployed and wants to see if the restaurant business is right for her. I told Chef Bob that she was going to be the next me. It was kind of slow all night long, so they let Justin go. Originally, it was myself, Justin, Jose and the trailer (I can't for the life of me remember her name). I ended up showing the trailer a lot of stuff. I got her doing things and having some fun. It was cool.
The Violent One and Ebonically Linguistic came and at at the bar. I sent them out a ceviche appetizer and some profiteroles for dessert. There must have been about thirty Cuban sandwiches ordered that night. We were down to one veggie Cuban and one normal Cuban at about ten in the evening, so I had to go and make some more. It's cool though. I liked doing it. The trailer was told to go home at about a half past ten, so instead of going home, she just sat, talked and watched me make the Cubans.
Oh yeah, in the middle of the service, the phone behind my station rang. Justin picked up the phone and handed it to me. It was Chef Bob. He wanted to hire me part time to work garde manger on the weekends. I took the job. It was excellent. He said that I could still be flexible and so on and so forth. I would get paid for any days that he put me on the schedule for, and I could come in on Mondays and Tuesdays too to intern, if I wanted, but I didn't have to if I didn't want to. I told him that I would probably still come in on Mondays and Tuesdays, just because the more hours I log, the more knowledge I pick up. He thought it was great. Chef Bob is in a staffing bind, and I'm looking for as much experience as I can get, paid or unpaid. I think we both appreciate what we offer to each other and I think that my work ethic and my willingness to do just about anything makes me appreciated all of the way around the kitchen. Chef B (not to be confused with Chef Bob) told me the other day, "You know, I don't say this to a lot of people, so you should take this as an honor. I like you. You're a fun guy to be around and a hell of a worker." Chef B is quitting to open up a place in CT. His last day should be in the next two weeks.
Saturday, I spend the bulk of the day lounging around my living room watching TV. At around three, I went to go try a piece of Emeril's chocolate cake to see if it's something that I would want to use for a tasting dinner that I have planned on Memorial Day weekend. We talked a lot about recipe ideas, plating and guest lists. I feel obligated to invite certain people, which will most likely jeoparize the bulk of the guest list. With a total of ten seats and three cooks, it only leaves seven open seats. With my three roomies and Glare and Totoro, that only leaves two more seats, plus Emeril only wants to bring Carpenter. Yeesh. If we get over ten people it's going to be hairy as hell. We'll see how it all works out.
After that I went to a Beer Summit party. Silent Lush was in from CIA. He just finished his internship in Oakland, CA, so we did a lot of shop talk and scar comparison. He had his kit with him, so I got to see all of his knives. Holy shit, did he have some nice hardware. It really made me realize what I had to do to get my kit up and running. I know that I need a larger chef's knife. He referred me to Korin.com. I checked it out and I found some hella nice knives. Some where upwards of three and a half bills. Yeesh. Maybe I should save up and get myself a nice one of those knives, but maybe only one of the two hundred or two hundred and fifty dollar ones.
Later on that night, I went to Soul Revival. It had been the first time in months that I had gone. I think that the last time that I was able to go was right around Halloween. It was where I met the chick with the furry boots. Man, did it feel to just get out there and dance. No one replied to my e-mail asking if they wanted to go, so I was footloose and fancy free. I danced and danced and danced. I scoped a number of chicks, but they were all in packs with guys or were just in packs of girls. I really had no interest in chasing anyone, so I just danced. about halfway throught the night, I noticed this skinny black chick with two inch dreads dancing. She had a tight little body on her and a good sense of rhythm. After a while, she came and we played back and forth for a while. I could tell that she was vibing me, but, again, I really wasn't up for too many games when she danced away for a while and then came back. When she was there, she was there. When she wasn't she wasn't.
About an hour after we first danced back and forth, I went out to the lobby to get some air. As I stood in the doorway, she came up to me and said, "Hey, you're a really good dancer." This is the third girl ever to have said that to me at Soul Revival. "Yeah, you are too," I replied. Then she giggled a bit. "I'm so lame. I'm sorry. I'm totally smitten with you. I mean you're a cute Asian-American boy who can groove. By the way, I'm Sunday." I told her my name was ZEN!!! and that she shouldn't worry about being lame, because everyone is lame now and then. We got talking and danced some more back and forth and exchanged numbers at the end of the night. It turned out that she's the same age as me, is still in college and works at a restaurant in Jamaica Plains. I'm probably gonna call her up. I'm not really looking for anything serious, but she's got a cute little ass on her. Trust me, she was shaking it at me all night.
I got home at half past two in the morning, and ended up talking to PJ on the phone until half past four. So, I was up pretty late. I didn't get out of bed today until probably around two thirty or three o'clock. I spent the bulk of today just sort of lounging around. I went grocery shopping and cooked dinner and that's just about it. That brings us to the present where I'm tired as hell and need to be getting some sleep. Tomorrow is nine to five and Chez Henri. Woot! More clog time!
Breathe... Just Breathe... Listening: And if one of us makes it big, we can spill our regrets and talk about how the love never dies. But you and I know the reason why.
Wow. It's been a week. A lot has happened and a lot has passed me by. It's a quarter to one, I'm on my last pair of drawls, and I'm tired as all hell. I know I have been sporratic, at best, with my updates as of late. I guess I can attribute that to the fact that I am working two jobs, have an active social life, have other projects on the burner. So I'm going to give you a short wrapup of the highlights of the past week, and then I'm gonna hit the sack.
Tuesday, I almost had a heart attack. I was at Chez Henri. Three people have given their notice in the past week. I'm standing next to Mark, the Sous Chef when Paul, the Chef/Owner walks into the kitchen and says, "So, ZEN!!!, you wanna work here full time, or what?"
"I would really love to, Chef Paul, but I can't. I have a bunch of debt that I have to pay off, and I won't be taking anything else full time until I can get that debt paid off," I reply.
Then he asks me how much debt. I give him a number slightly higher than the amount of my debt (which in the grand scheme of thing isn't that much debt, but significant to me nonetheless).
Chef Paul then counters with, " Hmm... maybe would work that into a signing bonus. Mark, how much did we give you as a signing bonus? About eight thousand, right?"
Mark smiles and says, "Yes, Chef. That sounds about right."
Chef Paul turns back to me and says, "Yeah, what would happen if we covered that with a signing bonus?"
In my mind, I was freaking out. I knew I had to play it cool. "Well, Chef Paul, I would have to look over all of my finances and I would have to make sure that all of the rest of my finances would work out."
"Okay," he says. "You do that."
So I'm wigging out in my mind for the rest of the shift. After the service, I'm sitting around drinking gin and tonic while Mark, some of the other cooks and some of the waiters are all sitting around drinking Guinness. I turn to ask Mark and ask, "Hey, was Chef Paul serious about that whole signing bonus thing?"
Mark laughs and says, "No, I didn't get a signing bonus. In fact, I bet that if you bring it up again to him, he probably wouldn't even remember the conversation."
My heart dropped a bit, but I also kind of knew that it was a litte bit too good to be true. I know that they value me at least. I was talking to Chef Bob tonight after the service and he said that he would offer me Justin's job in a second, but he knows that it wouldn't work out for me with the hours I'm working over at the Corporation.
Wednesday, I went to a friend's b-day dinner at Polcari's. It was a lot of fun. She has a number of hot friends. Alas, I don't think any of them are for me. I'm really glad I've gotten to know some of these people through The Violent One. They're all solid, good people and they are actually really amusing.
Thursday, I had dinner with an old friend from high school. We knew that we would be getting together that night after work, but we had no clue where we would go. It was St. Patrick's Day, so a lot of the old standby pubs and bars were out of the question. So, since he had never eaten there and because I get a discount, we went to Chez Henri and ate in the dining room. We only ordered our entrees, but Bob sent us out a number of things. As appetizer, he sent out the lamb dish and a carpaccio. Everyone in the back knows that I love lamb and the lamb dish in particular. I know that Justin was working and he made it special for me. It's interesting. When you work with someone at the same station, you learn all of their plating styles. Both dishes were very Justin. For dessert, they sent out a bread pudding. It's good to work in the restaurant business.
My friend from high school was kind of floored. As a poor law school student, looking into getting into human rights law, he was used to the Boca Grande kinds of meals. Big and cheap. With this dinner and all of the extra food being sent to the table without even ordering it, he was just completely dumbstruck. At the end of the meal, I went and thanked Chef Bob, who told Justin to send out the food. My friend thanked him too. It was a good session of catching up. I can't wait to hang out with this guy again. He is just a genuinely nice and funny guy.
Friday night, I went and had dinner with the roomies and spent the night in watching the Alfie DVD. It was altogether a pretty chill night. My ONE chill night of the week.
Saturday, I slept in, went to Haymarket with Fester, went to Harley & Hulk's place for a barbecue, went and went to a birthday party later on that night.
Sunday, I had brunch at Tremont 647 with Glare and Totoro. Oh. My. God. Was it good. I had the Beef a la Bourgogone, which was an Atkins diet dream. Totoro had the breakfast pizza, which was gigantic, and Glare had the Mexican Pork Torta sandwich. We also got a side of the local apple pancakes. Everything was so good. I left the place waddling and the Breakfast Pizza straight up destroyed Totoro. After brunch, we headed off to Kitchen Arts, where I picked up a ring mold, so that I could start experimenting with plating. I was so hellishly full that I went straight home after that. I was originally going to buy my chef's clogs with the gift cert that I got from Digitaldewi, but I was way to full to be doing anything. Instead, I went and took a nice, long, digestive nap.
Later on that night, I made dinner for The Violent One and Photogenic. I marinated chicken breasts in orange juice, minced scotch bonnet peppers, garlic, salt and pepper. I tried to brown them, but I think that I had a little bit too much fat in the pan, and I finished them in the oven. For the starch, I made polenta, just because I had eveything that I needed to make it. And for the vegetable, I made asparagus that I got from Haymarket, which I sauteed with some olive oil, salt, pepper and some lemon juice. I made a glaze for the chicken as well. I took all of the marinating liquid and just kept reducing it with a little bit of butter to make a nice thick orangey sauce. I think that I should have used more scotch bonnets, because the heat really wasn't as there as I wanted it to be (though it was stronger today as a leftover).
Photogenic was nice enough to take some pictures of my plating, so here they are and I'll leave you with those images.
My Arse Hurts Listening: Had to cool me down to take another round. Now I'm back in the ring to take another swing.
Aww, man. Lots to update on. Lots and lots. Unfortunately, I'm in a bad mood, but I'll get back to that later.
We left off on Wednesday night, so I'll head in to Thursday, March the tenth, aka my birthday. To be honest, the beginning of my birthday sucked. I worked with the Fobby-FOB and there wasn't a second that went by that I wanted to kick his ass all the way through his teeth. Fucking dumb people should be shot, or at least slaughtered, ground up, and fed to cattle to avoid potential Mad Cow's Disease. I have to admit that this guy would be much less of a waste of space if he were fed to veal as feed. To the wood chipper with the Fobby-FOB! My existance would be so much better.
So I worked with the Fobby-FOB and he was so fucking slow that I didn't even get to leave the office for lunch until four in the afternoon. I was running on one thermos of coffee from the time I woke up until four in the afternoon. I was just short off killin' the mother fucker. When I finally left the office, all I really wanted was a smoothie. I knew I would be eating well for dinner, since it was the night of my executive dinner. All I needed was a smoothie to hold me over. So, I went out to The Wrap in 101 Fed to go get one. When I get there, it no longer existed. MOTHER FUCKER! It was like I couldn't win.
Furthermore, on my way to the defunct Wrap, a homeless guy hassled me for some money for some food and I snapped at him. I was in a horrible mood and I frikkin bit his head off. On my way back from the defunct Wrap, I started feeling bad for the way I acted. The brother was homeless and hungry. He was no doubt having a worse day that I was. So, I went to Au Bon Pain, and got him a sandwich, soup, hot chocolate and a brownie, because I felt bad and because I remember how good it felt to do something nice for someone else on my birthday after donating my hair to charity. So, I give this guy the food and apologize for snapping at him, and he has the nerve to not say thank you and to hassle me for money to get home to Rhode Island all of the way back to my office. The nerve of this fucker. Holy fucking shit! He just ruined it for everyone who ever begs for anything from me. Fuck 'em, the cock sucking bitches. Never again. I did a nice thing. I did a good thing. I don't expect much. What is wrong with the world today?
After work I was smoldering. I was steaming. I wanted to put my fist through a wall. So between work and the Executive Dinner, I went to Barnes & Noble and read Thomas Keller's The French Laundry Cookbook. It made me feel better to read about fois gras and demi-glace. I know that's where I'm headed, and I know that I'll be able to leave behind the Fobby-FOB. I'm going to make something out of my life. I am not going to be a corporate drone or even a kitchen drone. I will be a name in the culinary scene. I will be the guy who will walk into a restaurant and who will get the VIP written on my ticket. I will be trimming fois gras for people who want to meet me and who will actively seek out my cuisine.
I got to The Living Room at ten past seven for a seven thirty reservation for the Executive Dinner. I was the first one there, so I settled down at the end of the bar with a much needed gin gimlet. I was only there for about ten minutes before Glare showed up, followed shortly by Carpenter and Fester. In all, the attendance of my Executive Dinner were Ebonically Linguistic, Whisper, Photogenic, Glare, The Violent One, my brother, Carpenter, Emeril, Fester, VWMod, and his girl "Ace." I have to say that being in the company that I had made me feel a lot better after the day that I had. I like being around my closest friends, especially when food is involved. After all, food is my girlfriend.
Dinner itself was awesome. The Violent One and I sat across from each other, which turned out to be a very fortunate thing. We did a lot of sharing. As appetizers, we shared the seared scallops and the tuna carpaccio. For entrees, we shared the four way steak fillet and the cornish game hen al mattone. And for dessert, we shared the strawberry shortcake and the pyramid anglaise. It was a good situation to be in. All of the food was good. Outstanding would be stretching it, but very good quality/ I enjoyed almost every bite that I stuck into my mouth.
The big surprise of the night wasn't the food, though. You know, I never expect gifts or for people to pick up my dinner tab at my Executive Dinner. It's not why I run my Executive Dinner. I just want to break bread with the people that I find to be some of the best friends that I have. I want to enjoy all of their company. Just like when I get married. I'm not getting married for the gifts. I'm getting married because I love some girl to death and because I want all of my friends in one room to party with me. I could care less about the gifts or the money. If I want something bad enough, I'll work for it. I'll save up the money and I'll get it my damn self. Anything else is just and added bonus that I don't expect to have or expect to get. Anyways, the big surprise was that a bunch of my friends pooled their resources and bought me the U2 Limited Edition iPod . I was thoroughly shocked. My brother had been saying that he would get me one for a while now since I helped him get his current job, but I pretty much gave up on that one after six months of "yeah, yeah, yeahs." So I am now the proud owner of Darth Vader's iPod. I also got some other pretty cool shit, like a twenty five dollar iTunes gift cert to go with the iPod and a free shuttle down to the Le Creuset outlet and a fifty bone contribution to my own dutch oven. Somebody made out like a bandit without even wanting to. Sweet bajeezums, my friends rule.
Friday was another frustrating day with the Fobby-FOB. I opted to take Friday night easy. I watched a little Battlestar Gallactica, watched The Station Agent DVD and cleaned my room a bit. I was in much need of rest.
Saturday I did some more cleaning and prepared for my birthday party of drunken debauchery. Originally, it was going to be themed as the Master and Slave party, but my friends are kind of vanilla and they weren't interested in getting a bit kinky. So at the last minute last week, I removed the theme, much to my chagrin. After that, everyone was game. I received more gifts that I didn't expect including some coasters, some champagne flutes, a CD, a book, a spatula, and a crab cracker.
The party itself was a lot of fun. Some people still got in the mood of the Master and Slave theme. Some did not. I got twenty seven whacks of a dragon boat paddle and one more to go on. There was some scandalous stuff happenining, but alas, I couldn't close the deal. I got the, "You know, we would regret this when we sober up." When really I was thinking, "You know, I want to try all one hundred and five ways that I know to make you scream in pleasure."
I'll hook you up with some pictures, just so you get a feel for the party. Some names will be withheld to protect the innocent.
Me & A Very Attractive Girl
Pimpin' It Once
Pimpin' It Some More
More Debauchery
Taking My Licks From The Violent One Wearing Bondage Tape
Hawtie On A Leash
A Group Of Rockstars
So, I took a total of twenty eight licks from the dragon boat paddle. I have to say that some people were weak, some were strong. Some had good aim, and some ended up hitting the back of my leg instead of my arse. The bottom line was that the next day, my arse wasn't bruised, but it was certainly sore. Hey, your birthday comes but once a year. Make it memorable.
Everyone got drunk as fuck that night. Photogenic was... err... vomitous. The Violent One was worn out the next day. Sweet Scent had a headache for most of the following day. I heard a number of people were feeling it the next day. I, on the other hand, was fine. I woke up at noon and cleaned up the mess from the party almost all by myself. I figure, it was my party and my mess, so I should clean my shit up.
After I cleaned everything up, The Violent One and I went to brunch with Booch and THE Hustler at Ole. We had the worst service ever from our waiter. He was annoying, hard of hearing, fucked up our orders, assumed his tip, lied to us and was just generally a bad waiter. I have to admit though, I enjoyed spending time with Booch and THE Hustler. They're really fantastic people. They're funny and intelligent (both of them). It makes me sad that I don't get to hang with them more. With Booch at Albany, it makes it difficult, because other than Booch, THE Hustler and I run in different circles. I wish I had the money to play poker with him, but alas, I'm not ready to lose that much money to him. Anyways, again, I walked off with loot. Booch and THE Hustler bought me a new cutting board (because the we have at the apartment is too large and unwieldy) and pinch bowls. Man, did Booch call what I needed. She's a fuckin' mind reader.
The rest of Sunday was spent lolligagging around. I crashed out on the couch with The Violent One when we had planned to watch a movie. I talked to TMI on the phone for a bit, but other than that the rest of the day was uneventful. Digitaldewi dropped by to apologize for not making it to the party and to drop off a gift cert for me to a shoe store where I could by my Dansko clogs. That RULES!
Today.... Today was another story. I got run all of the way around. So much so that I have done some heavy drinking tonight. Let's start at the very beginning, a very good place to start. So, as I'm sure you all realize, I worked with the Fobby-FOB again today. And again, he was as slow as whale shit. I had this whole speech running through my head that went a little like this. "I know you convinced [my manager's manager] that that you have the intelligence and the aptitude to do this job. Until I met you, I believed that a retarded monkey with a broken white crayon and a white sheet of paper could do this job. Now, you have to prove to me that you have the intelligence and the aptitude to do this job. Up to this point, you have proven to me that you're a fucking dolt that should be taken out of the food chain. You need to rectify this opinion. Prove me wrong you fucking fobby sonuvabitch."
To add insult ton injury, my manager was out and my manager's manager was attempting (unsuccessfully) to do his job. One other girl didn't do her job today, so I was sent scrambling around to rectify mistake and to make sure that everything was up to par by the deadlines. That didn't happen. All the while, the guy who got the promotion over me sat around with his thumb up his ass. I was at work a half hour more making me a half hour late to the restaurant. Nothing worked right at my day job. It was totally fucked up. I hate it that I'm the only bastard who knows what the fuck is going on and how to fix mistakes. I hate it that people sit around with their thumbs up their asses while I fucking pick up the pieces. I am seriously going to have a little pow wow with my manager tomorrow. He know that all of this isn't in my job description. I'm goinbg to tell him that he's not doing a very good job of keeping me around until I go to culinary school. I'm going to tell him that it is the senior's job to run around after shit that's going wrong, not mine. If he wanted me to wipe asses, he should have promoted me to the ass wiping postion and should have given me the raise to go with it. I am not happy at all. I will stick it to my manager, because I am the best worker he's got. I know everything about every bit of work. He would be a fool to fire me.
Today, at the restaurant, we got slammed as well, at least for a Monday. We did fifty seven covers, ran out of two out of five desserts, almost ran out of a third. I burnt my left pinky testing to see if some mashed potatoes were warm enough. I just had a generally bad day. I didn't eat all day until half past nine when Mark, the sous chef, comped me a chicken with mole sauce. It was really nice of him. Justin gave his two weeks notice and his last day will be the twenty nineth. Two other people gave their notice as well. From what Mark said to me today, I know that they want to hire me. I know I can't give up the nine to five though. Maybe I'll work Saturday and Sunday full time and I'll come in for service on Mondays and Tuesdays. I think that that is the best that I can do for a few months. I think that if they offered to pay off the rest of my credit card debt, with the way things are going at my nine to five, I would quit the Corporation and I would work full time for Chez Henri. I love my work at Chez Henri and I love the people that I work with. I think that my manager and the girl with the most distracting ass in the world are the only two people that I really like at the Corporation.
So after I finished the service at eleven o'clock, I drank numerous gin and tonics with Mark, Justin and three of the servers. I needed it. My day sucked so bad it wasn't even funny. Hell, right now, I'm nursing a Bailey's on the rocks. The longer I stick with the nine to five, the more I need to drink. What makes things even worse is that the fuckin' Fobby-FOB wants to be my friend. He knows that I have been pissed at him for the last three days (at least). He offered to make it up to my by buying me lunch. I refused. I don't want him to buy me lunch. I don't want to be his friend. I just want him to get his fuckin' work done in a timely manner so he doesn't fuck up my flow for the day. My god, I wish something would take the Fobby-FOB out of the food chain.
Anyways, that's all I have to say for tonight. I'm tired and disgruntled. I need some sleep. It's half past two. Time to chuck back the Baileys, brush my teeth and hit the sack. Hopefully tomorrow will be better.
Testing My Patience Listening: I’ve told you before and I’ll tell you again, and again, and again. Can’t you get it thru your head? You’re not my friend and I’ve tried to be nice but now I’m not going to lie. So I suggest you leave before I make you cry.
Oh, man, this is gonna be a short one. I'm tired as fuck and I was run through the ringer at my nine to five today. I came within about a hair of knocking the shit out of Fobby-FOB. It took the kid until one thirty in the afternoon to do something that I have done before half past eleven. Feasibly, the job should be done before noon. ARGGGG!!!! He is so infuriating and frustrating. I can't wait until he's done training. I was seriously ready to knock his block off for being a fucking dolt.
Who was the braniac responsible for hiring this motherfucker? I think that if I were hiring, I would give pattern recognition tests and speed reading tests. Either that, or I would just stamp applications with a stamp that said, "I have a feeling that this person is a FUCKING IDIOT!" Anyways, enough about Fobby-FOB. Let's leave it that he's probably one of my circles of hell, and I just have to fight my way out of purgatory.
Chez Henri was hella slow. I spent most of the time chatting with Chef Bob, running things from the walk in to Brian, and talking about papuso with Jose. I watched Chef Bob shave some fois gras to make a gallatine. Other than that, it was pretty boring. My asbestos hands weren't on today. As Chef Bob would say, I wore my pussy hands today. It's okay. Benji, one of the waiters had his pussy hands on too. Tomorrow we're going to have a special menu for a group of people in a wine club. It's going to be primarily spanish food. There will be fois gras served. Maybe I'll have to snag a little taste of that. Mmm, mmm, mmm.
So, that's it for tonight. I fixed the picture links in the previous post, so y'all can see the pics much better now. Hopefully tomorrow will go better than today. If it doesn't, someone's going to end up with a bloody something, and it won't be me.
Working It Overtime Listening: Hey I’m not complaining ’cause I really need the work. Hitting up my buddy’s got me feeling like a jerk. Hundred dollar car note, two hundred rent. I get a check on Friday, but it’s all ready spent.
Ahh, it's been a long past four days, fulfilling, angering, and educational, but long. Thursday, again, I had the Fobby-FOB sitting with me for part of the day. I can't figure out if he doesn't have the aptitude to learn this stuff, if he jumps the gun so that he gets too far ahead of himself, or if he's just freaking annoying, but he really gets to me. He gets to me a lot. He talks a lot too. It's like he talks so much that I can't even think. He reminds me of this kid I knew in eighth grade. He was in seventh grade and was a complete FOB at the time too. He was in my intro to German language class. He was so eager to please the teacher that it was annoying as fuck. He had the fobby accent (and can you imagine bad German pronounciation with a Chinglish accent? Yeesh!). There was a couple of times where he tried to befriend me. I just found him so annoying though. The accent was like nails on a chalkboard. This overzealous attitude was like a needle being pressed into your stomach. But this kid was in seventh grade. I guess you're supposed to be awkward and weird back then. I'm sure that I was. I went to high school with this kid and even saw him once halfway through college. He had grown up, matured, calmed down and became a human being. The guy I'm working with now is twenty nine years old. You would think that at this point in his life, after being in the States for a large number of years (so he tells us), he would know how to interact with people. He would know when to talk and when to shut the fuck up. He would know all of these things. Surely he has not. And surely it annoys the fuck out of me. And surely, after I have finished training him, I will be finished talking to him unless he has a question on what to do or how to operate.
On Thursday, I went into work dressed to the nines. I had my nice pair of black Kenneth Cole slacks, my best fitting green Express Men button-down. I looked sharp. The reason was in my bag. In my bag, I had my newly purchased and newly pressed chef's coat that I needed for the benefit that night. I got to the State Room at around a quarter to six. I was let out of work early (thank goodness, because I couldn't take even five more minutes of the Fobby-FOB) to go to the event. When I went into the event, I had no clue what to expect. When I rode up the elevator, I was greeted by several rather attractive girls. The funny thing was that they didn't know where I was to go. I went to the kitchen and I couldn't find anyone there that I knew, so I went out the the function are. It was a large L shaped room with tables and booths representing different restaurants lining the window side of the room. We were about three tables from the corner of the room, right across form the kitchen and the silent auction. To the left of the silent auction was the bar, and directly across from the bar was a stage where they had different performers from a cover band to a variety of asian music and dancing. We were situated between the Finale table and the Clio table, so I did a bit of chatting with Ken Oringer. Apparently he's opening a sushi bar in Singapore soon.
Anyways, I walked around the room and Tania spotted me. If she hadn't seen me, I think that I would have wandered around for a bit longer. On the menu for us that night were three items. We had a Mahi-mahi ceviche on taro chip with persimmon sauce/glaze and avocado puree, roasted pork tamale in a banana leaf with a mole sauce, and plaintain chips with our salsa. After I changed from my duds into my professional attire of a chef's coat, my baggy Caffeine pants and bistro apron, I was off to work. For most of the night, I plated the ceviche, but I did get a chance to fix/reheat some of the food that we were serving. I have to admit, the ceviche was so good. It was much better than the scallop ceviche that we serve at Chez Henri. One problem that we had during the night was that about three quarters of the way through the night, the avocado puree started to break. We stirred and stirred, but it wouldn't come completely back together again.
There were four of us from Chez Henri working the table. It was myself, Tania (the pastry chef), Leah (a manager for the front of the house), and Paul (the Executive Chef/Owner). Paul spent most of the event schmoozing with the other chefs, so Tania and I plated while Leah gave the explanations of what we were serving up. Of course, Tania and I did our share of schmoozing with the people there. There was also a lot of respect being thrown around by the restaurant staff. I did a lot of talking with Andy Husbands (who told me to tell Tony he was a faggot, jokingly, because they were old colleagues) and Jamie Bissonette of Tremont 647, Ana Sortun of Oleana and Ken Oringer of Clio. I was amazed by how easy they were to talk to. Unfortunately, neither Todd English or Ming Tsai showed up. I really wasn't expecting them to. I just hoped that they would.
Though I spend the bulk of my time chilling at my table, I did get a chance to walk around and sample the food from different restaurants. Most of the people decided to make asian influenced dishes due to the nature of the benfit. I thought that it was a little bit hokey, but the food was pretty damn good. I had several cuts of beef that were just so nice. There must have been at least five different ceviches there. Ours, if I do say so myself, was the best. The other ones were far more fishy. One used striped bass, and I really dug that one though. There were countless dumplings. I think the one dish I was incredibly impressed with was brought by one of the less prestigious chefs/restaurants. It was this coconut, melon, tapioca dessert soup made by Veggie Planet, the restaurant attached to Club Passim. It was bordering on outstanding, as far as I was concerned.
Another thing about the night was that drinks just kept on coming. As soon as I finished one, there was another in my hand. I didn't have to actively seek out the drinks either. It was Lychee Martini after Lychee Martini. And these were no second rate Lychee Martinis. They were top notch. So good. By the end of the five hour event, I must have had at least ten. The funny thing was that I was eating as I drank, so I wasn't so bad that I was bobbing and weaving all over the place. I was just kind of happy. I kept it under control at the event though. I had myself on a tight leash for the event. I didn't let myself get too goofy. It was a good thing.
Just so you get some visuals, here are some pics from the event.
The Chez Henri Crew: Tania, Leah & Paul
Paul & Leah
Jasper White & Me
The Ladies of Finale
View Out Of The State Room #1: The Customs House
View Out Of The State Room #2: Faneuil Hall
Chef Paul O'Connell & Me
Another great thing about the event was that there were really attractive girls all over the place. I just zeroed in on two though. The first one was this little asian girl in an orange boatneck sweater. Oh my goodness was this girl hot. She was with a pack of girls though. I was just about to talk to them when Tania said that she needed help cleaning up our stuff and taking it down to the car. DOH! By the time we got back up, the girls were nowhere to be found. DOH! DOH! She was totally checking me out as I was checking her out though. The second girl was a server for Davio's. Oh, man, she had these cute little frames. It was very "naughty librarian." Very nice. I talked to her for quite a bit, but I didn't have the huevos to close the deal. No bueno. No papuso para mi.
After the event, there was an after party at Saint for the chefs and cooks who worked the event. Since most of the chefs went back to their respective restaurants before heading to the party, we were the first ones there. I did a lot of chatting and bonding with Paul there. We talked about a lot of different things from the bar scene to cooking for a living. It was a good time. I did a lot more hob knobbing at that party. I spent most of my time talking to Jasper White's sous chef. She said to me that if you find the right chef to apprentice under, you don't need to go to school. I know that she's right, but I think that I really want to learn some of that basic stuff in a classroom lab setting, as opposed to a high pressure line situation. I think that that is what culinary school would do for me. I also ended up meeting Tony Ambrose there too. He didn't even work the event, but he was at the party. The Blue Ginger girls were insane though. They were all over the place, drinking up a storm. It was craaazy!
We were really only supposed to be at the party for one or two drinks. Paul was a bit uncomfortable in that setting at first, but as people started showing up, he got more into the groove of things. I finally called it quits around midnight, because I had to take the T home. I caught the last T home. Tania also wanted to get out of there, but she caught a ride home with a friend from high school that she ran into randomly. From what I know, Paul and Leah stayed really late. Leah was the designated driver of the night, for whom I was eternally grateful for. A funny thing that Paul said in the car ride to Saint was, "ZEN!!!, if you're going to work in this industry, you've got to party like you work in this industry." The way the hob knobbing and networking was going there, I am beginning to agree with him.
When I got home, I was high as a kite. I was tipsy to the max and was dancing around. I had just had an amazing night. The Violent One was on the phone with Ebonically Linguistic, so I hopped on the phone for a bit. I then proceeded to dance around the apartment in a drunken elation. I finally ended up in Photogenic and Whisper's room and told them about the event. It must have been like three in the morning when I came down from the high. It was awesome. I was totally in my element.
I really wanted to call into work sick the next day, not because I was hung over, but because I didn't want to deal with the Fobby-FOB. But I knew that if I didn't go into work, my boss probably wouldn't have ever let me leave early ever again, and we can't be having that, now can we? The Fobby-FOB sent the majority of the day sitting with me. It was throroughly annoying. Holy shit did I want to punch him a bunch of times. I had to tell him several times to stop, be quiet, sit back in his chair and take a couple of deep breaths. It was downright ridiculous.
Friday night, I spent in. After work, I went to Haymarket and ended up coming home with a filet of salmon, some haricot vert (string beans... I was just trying to be pretentious), some lemons and some parsley. I made pan seared salmon in a lemon garlic sauce, string beans sauteed with lemon zest and white rice. I made dinner for Photogenic and Whisper too. Not only did I try a new recipe, but I worked on my plating a bit. This one was pretty nice, but I think that I should have used a bigger plate. The ones I used were a litte bit small and crowded. The rest of the night after dinner, I spent watching TV and fading in and out of consiousness. I had to watch the new episode of Battlestar Gallactica twice, because I fell asleep during the second half of the show.
Saturday, I was woken up by my parents calling about some business just before noon. It was a good thing that they called me. On Thursday, Tania and I talked about me learning some of the pastry stuff. She said that she would be coming in at ten in the morning, and I knew that I wouldn't make that time. I knew that I would need at least a little bit extra sleep after a long week of working with the Fobby-FOB and working three nights for Chez Henri. So she said, come in around noon, or whenever. I planned on going in at noon, but ended up getting there around one in the afternoon. She taught me how to make Creme Anglais, Chocolate Vienna Style Sable cookies, and Profiterole dough. I learned so many aspects of all of the desserts. I think that at the next tasting dinner that Fester and I decide to run, I'll make Creme Anglais to plate the dessert on.
When I went in, I only expected to be there until three in the afternoon, because that's when the other cooks come in to do their prep, but I didn't leave at three. Tania and I were working until four, and then I decided to stay and help Justin and Jose prep for their day. I ended up helping them make clam fritter batter and tapanade. I hand pitted a few hundred olives and my fingers wreaked of olives for the rest of the evening. I did, also get to eat staff meal with the crew. Greg made some damn good chicken. I didn't end up walking out of the kitchen until around seven or seven thirty, when I grabbed a beer at the bar with Paul before heading home for a chill night.
Saturday night was slightly more exciting than Friday night. There was alundry involved and lots of it. Exciting, huh? Hey, when you're down to your last pair of drawlz, you know it's about time. Speaking of drawlz, I need to replace a shitload of them. All of the elastic on my Aeropostale boxers are going. They're all at least three years old, so I guess I've gotten some good use out of them. It's time to buy new boxers now though.
Today, I did very little as well. A bunch of us helped Ebonically Lingusitic paint her new digs. We chilled for a bit after that and then got burgers at R.F. O'Sullivan's. It was a pretty chilled out day. It's really strange the blurring of the line of work and relaxation. I don't quite know what relaxation is anymore. Sitting in front of the TV, I just fall asleep, which could be relaxing, but not really. I think that the most relaxing part of my last four days was cooking the salmon on Friday night. I was focused, yet not intense. I knew what I wanted to acheive, but I was kind of fast and loose with the recipe. I wasn't uptight at all or really concerned about what I thought Photogenic or Whisper would think of the food that I would be feeding them. I knew that it would be edible and would be better than instant noodles. It was fun.
Anyways, it was a good four days. It was filled with a lot of great things. Oh, man are things going well. I'm very close to having everything but the girl. Good thing I have Everything But The Girl on CD.
Networking? Hob Knobbing? Naw, Straight Up Starphuckin' 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?
I have good news and bad news? What do you want to hear first? Well, tough, y'ain't really got a choice. So I'll give you the bad news first, since it happened chronologically first in the day today. Do you remember how I was talking about having to train a kid today? Well, he wasn't exactly a kid. He was a couple of years older than I and the poster child for the FOB nation. That's right, I spent the day training a twenty nine year old, couldn't hack it in the IT world, overzealous FOB. It sucked. I'll have to do it for at least the rest of the week too. Mofugga! He bothered me so much. It wasn't so much his accent or his manner of speaking, so much, but it did annoy the fuck out of me. Most of all, it was his overzealous, "I'll try to finish your sentences before you get past the subject of the sentence and will be completely wrong," eager to please everyone attitude that pissed the shit out of me today. I can't stand this guy. I can't wait until the week is ver and I don't have to train him anymore.
So, that was my bad news. And now for the good news. Actually, first, some bad news that relates to the good news. The good bad news is that I have to go out and spend the money to buy a chef's coat tomorrow. "Why?" you may ask. The answer is that good news. I'll be working at Unichef on Thursday evening. Unichef is a fundraiser run by Unicef and Boston Chefs to help with the Tsunami relief in southeast Asia. The list of chef that I'll be kickin' it with are: Rene Michelena of Domani, Joshua Steinberg of Aquitaine, Ming Tsai of Blue Ginger, Felino Samson of Bomboa, Lee Napoli of Bricco, Paul O'Connell of Chez Henri, Ken Oringer of Clio, Rodney Murillo of Davios, Nadsa di Monterio of Elephant Walk, Nicole Coady of Finale, Ernie Quinones of Mantra, Barbara Lynch of No. 9 Park, Ana Sortun of Oleana, Todd English of Olives, Victor Sodsook of Pho Republique, Marc Orfaly of Pigalle, Anthony Caturano of Prezza, Pino Maffeo of Restaurant L, Anthony Susi of Sage, Gabriel Frasca of Spire, Jasper White of Summer Shack, Andy Husbands of Tremont 647 and Rouge, Scott Herbert of Troquet, Amanda Lydon of Upstairs on the Square, and Didi Edmonds of Veggie Planet. It's going to be so awesome. I'll be cooking alongside of all of these famous chefs. Oh, man, will it be great. Maybe I'll do some networking there.
So, I don't know exactly what I'll be doing, but I'll be wearing a chef's coat. Hopefully, I'll be right up next to these people. What a great opportunity this is going to be. Hopefully Justin will work too, and we'll goof off and stuff. Ahh, so psyched. Ahh, so tired. I'm gonna go to sleep now. It was just too good of news to hold on until tomorrow. Laterz.
Needs, Wants, And I Swear I Didn't Know She Was That Young Listening: Someday we’ll get it together and we’ll get it undone. Someday when the world is much brighter.
Okay, I lied. I did know she was that young, but I chose to pretend to be ignorant. But more on that later. (I'm such a tease.)
This weekend was killer. I had a great time. Actually, it started on Thursday night. Since I took the day off on Friday, I headed down to New York City for the weekend right after I got out of work on Thursday. Armed with four char siu baos (Chinese barbecue pork buns), three days of clothes and a wallet full of CDs, I hopped the Chinatown bus and chilled for five hours while the man who spoke no English weaved in and out of traffic and as the snow came down. Five hours, ladies and gentlemen. I guess there were particularly bad road conditions. I usually get to New York in under four hours. By the time I hit Manhattan, it was midnight, and a quarter to one by the time I got to Shaft's place in Battery Park City. As soon as I walked in the door, I changed, brushed my teeth and crashed out. I had big business to attend to the next day.
The reason that I took Friday off was to check out and audit a day of classes at the French Culinary Institute in order to make sure that it was a place that I would be interested in attending. Since I had to be there by a quarter to nine, I was up by seven. I had no clue how long it would take me to get from Battery Park City to Soho. I ain't no New Yawkah. I actually timed it perfectly though. I dawdled a bit in the apartment, making sure that I looked nice yet casual. Clean jeans, white t-shirt and a charcoal cardigan. When I got there, the office wasn't open yet. I knew that, because there was another man in the elevator with me who was on his way to the same floor, and the button wasn't turned on.
So, this guy and I get to talking. I find out that he works for FCI, and he asks me about my interest in the school, if I was planning on attending, and where else I planned on looking at. I told him that I planned on checking out the California Culinary Academy in San Francisco and the CIA campus at Greystone in Napa Valley. That was when he said it. "You know, in regards to CCA, though I don't like to say anything bad about our competition, I think that there are some other schools in California that you should check out instead of CCA." He then explained to me that they used to be a real top notch institution, but in the past few years, they have really gone down hill. The good thing about his comment is that it was consistent with a lot of forums and threads that I have read online. The more and more I think about it, the more I am leery of CCA. So it looks like the choices now are FCI and CIA Greystone. Do you want to know the kicker about this guy, though? When we finally got into the offices, I finally ask him, "So what do you do for FCI?" "Oh," he replied. "I'm the president." Haha. I was thoroughly amused.
So I sat in on an entire day of the Level I class. It lasted from nine in the morning until three in the afternoon with a lunch break where they either eat what they prepared in class or they eat the family meal that the Level II class prepares. I was so nervous and skittish when I walked into class. They were all there, attentive, kind of serious seeming. Chef Pascal took role and we all sat around listening to a lecture on forcemeats such as ballotines, galantines and terrines. To be honest, I could barely hear anything, because I was in the very back near the humming refridgerator. It was kind of funny, because Chef Pascal has a thick French accent and tried to make a joke, asking me to give the lecture. He called me by my last name, thinking that it was my first, so when he didn't get much a response due to my confusion (Hell, I didn't know if there was someone with my last name as their first in the class), he just rolled with it and laughed it off. It was kind of amusing.
For cooking, the day before, the worked on duck. The day that I visited, I wasn't so lucky. That day it was organ meats. Sweetbreads, liver, and kidneys were on the menu for that day. A number of the culinary students were a bit turned off by the subject matter, but I was actually quite interested. I had never had sweetbreads or kidneys. I have had duck liver, but not the calf liver that we were preparing that day though. As strange as it sounds, I was kind of psyched. I was finally going to get over my fear of sweetbreads and I would participate and eat it. The thing was, I didn't get to participate much in the class due to insurance reasons, but I walked around, watched and talked to a number of the students. You know, you'd be surprised about how picky some chefs-in-training are. I tried everything that was made that day. They told me that because I ate everything that was made, I was the best visitor that they had ever had. I was a bit confused by those comments. I mean, if you're going to be a cook, chef, caterer or anything like that, you need to know what things taste like and how to adjust everything. If you're not even willing to put it in your mouth, well then, how can you know what you're serving? I have to say that I wasn't wild about any of the three dishes that were made, but in the same right, I wasn't gagging over any of them either. Of the three dishes, I don't think that I could choose which one that I would pick to eat given the choice of three. The sweetbreads were a bit chalky in the middle. The liver wasn't nearly as tasty as fois gras. And the kidneys were a bit like eating mushrooms.
So, as I said, I talked to a lot of the students there. A lot of them were career changers. I spent the bulk of my time talking to one pair of which one used to be a paralegal and took out loans to cover school and the other was a woman in her late twenties/early thirties who used to be in finance. She saved up and paid for school outright. I talked to a fifty something year old woman who was retired and had always wanted to learn to cook properly, as she put it, an ex-social worker, and a Cornell school of Hospitality & Hotel Management graduate. It reassured me a lot to see so many career changers. It made me feel like FCI really catered to people like me.
One of the more interesting things about watching class was that although a lot of them had a few legs up on me as far as recipe technique and that sort of training, I really felt like I had a leg up on them in other ways. For instance, I know that I have better knife skills than a number of people in the class. Sometimes watching them chop made me cringe and turn away in case a digit went skidding across the room. I felt like I knew how to better handle a hot pan and about how to maneuver around a kitchen. I knew that some of them would really do well cooking the line, but others, most definitely, would be eaten up in the pressure. And although there were varying levels of skill in the room, the pace never went too fast or too slow for anyone. Everyone got the lesson. I attribute that to the good teaching skills of Chef Pascal. He navigated the class with humor while keeping his eyes on the goals of the day and of the unit.
Also, in class, for the very first time, I held a vintage Sabatier blade in my hand. I have to say that it wasn't the most comfortable knife that I have ever held, but I could tell from the edge that it was a good blade. It was stained black on the blade, but it had a very sharp edge. It was well over fifty years old. It belonged to the retired fifty something year old woman from Virgina. It used to belong to her cousin who got it before she was born. It really must be nice to have a blade with some history. I think that maybe because I didn't have a personal relationship with that blade that it didn't feel right in my hand. I think that it's very important to have personal relationships with the tools that you use most often.
So, here's the more amusing part of the day. Though most of the day, I silently flirted with one of the girls in the class. She would look up and over at me. I would catch her eyes and she would smile bashfully, and would look back down at what she was doing or at her white cutting board. This happened about five or six times in the first half of class. It was getting a bit out of control. I definitely thought that she was cute. She was short, thin, blonde and had the most beautiful blue eyes. She was a bit fidgety when she was addressed by Chef Pascal who would continually make fun of her nervous stretching and twisting. After lunch, I watched her work at her station and started to talking to her. Once I got her talking, that's when it came out. She had just finished high school and she had come to culinary school because she really had no interest in college. "So, you're what, nineteen?" I asked. "I will be. I'm only eighteen now." Yeesh! Eighteen. I can't hang with that, no matter how cute she is. In my heart, I knew that she was that young before I even said a word to her, but I chose to ignore it. When she said it, it became too real, so I had to step off of that. Twenty two. That's my floor.
So, I had a great time at FCI. I got a really good vibe from the school and from the people. I actually wished that I could have been a part of that class. There were so many different types of cool people, each with their own stories, reasons, passions and pet peeves. There wasn't a single person that I met there that I didn't like. I know that when I go, the people won't be the same, but I'm hoping that if I do, in fact, choose to go there, I'll have a class like they have. Another great thing was that they knew a bunch of people that I know of through a couple of degrees of separation. They knew both Ebonically Linguistic's cousin and Rebound Girl's best friend. It was pretty cool. It sounds like they keep a very tight knit family in that school, which make it that much more appealing.
That night, I had dinner with Shaft and we met a friend of his to go see Keanu Reeves in "Constantine." In a sentence, don't see it. Bad movie. There is one character that is acually interesting, and that is the angel Gabriel. Gavin Rossdale as Balthazar wasn't even that interesting. What a wasted of time and money.
The next day, I met up with TMI for lunch and a bit of shopping in Soho. It had been a long time since we had hung out, so it was cool to catch up with her. I tricked her into buying a t-shirt. It didn't take much effort though. She dug the shirt anyways.
Saturday night, I went to Shaft's birthday celebration at the Katwalk Bar & Lounge. I had a really good time, but it wasn't quite as much fun as Photgenic's birthday jam. There were far fewer hot chicks running around. In fact, it was probably over two thirds guys in the bar. Luckily, Shaft and his twin sister's friends are all really cool, so I just chilled out and was myself the whole evening. The interesting part of the night was the threesome in the corner. It was two gals bumping, grinding, kissing and groping with each other. The one that I thought was hot was skinny as a rail, and either Indian, South American or African. She was crazy hot. We made eye contact a bunch of times, and even danced a bit, but she always went back to the other guy. It frustrated me so much. One of Shaft's friends turned to me and said, "You know, they're not with him because he's a good looking brother. The man must have some coin!" I didn't know for sure, but I had a feeling that he was right. Ahh well. I guess I just had to settle for a bit of dancing.
After we left the bar at three in the morning, about five of us headed over to a diner. Awww, shit was it good. I had a mushroom and swiss omelette and a side of bacon. How I love pork fat! What a way to end a weekend! I didn't do much on Sunday. I just watched the new episode of The L Word on Shaft's TIVO and headed back to Boston.
Today was month end and it kicked my ass. I think that if I had been there on Friday and I had known what happened on my work while I was away, I would have been fine. The problem is that there were all sorts of things that were getting backed out and redone. They had to pick that day to mess with things. It's amazing. So, today, I had to guess what they did, or I had to hunt people down to ask them what happened. It was just messy.
Even though I was tired and cranky from month end, I was happy to go work at Chez Henri. It was a dead day though. There were only a couple of tables in the dining room, and a few people in the bar for most of the night. Paul even decided to close the dining room early. The strange thing was that the bar started getting packed about a half hour to forty five minutes until we closed the kitchen. We were almost all readon cleaned up when orders started rolling in. There weren't a ton of orders, just more orders than we had from the previous three hours of working. It was kind of amusing.
Two really interesting things happened today at Chez Henri though. I overheard Paul talking to Justin about needing some people to help work a fundraiser for the Tsunami Relief downtown on Thursday evening. After overhearing it, I asked him about it. He said that he was, in fact, looking for people and I said that I would be willing to work on Thursday for it, so we're going to talk about it tomorrow. From what I hear, there will be a lot of big names there; chefs, celebrities and socialites alike. I really hope that I can swing this gig. I think that it would be a good place to network and to just have some fun. If it's both Justin and I, we'll have a ball, no matter what.
The second really interesting thing to happen was that Justin told me on the DL that he would be leaving in a month to go back to Vermont. He said that if I wanted to move into the kitchen permanently, that would be the time for me to do it. Oh, how tempting it would be if I didn't have this frikkin' debt. If my debt were clear, I would be out of the Corporation in a hurry. I would take the nine fitty an hour and I wouldn't look back. I know it's a severe pay drop, but I think peace of mind would be worth it. The good thing is that, perhaps, they would hire me on part time. I would work Saturdays and Sundays for them. That would be really cool. I would be psyched to do that.
And that was my day at work.
One last thing. I wanted to talk a bit about shoes. I want to talk about how I need shoes, but I haven't gotten off my ass to get them. I just keep putting it off. My running shoes are shot. My Dr. Marten's that I wear to the Corporation have deep gashes in the leather and the tread is almost gone. My Dr. Marten's steel toe boots are so old that the leather where my foot flexes, right behind the steel toe, has started to crack and lets water in when I step in deep puddles. Finally, I'm kind of in need of better shoes to wear in the kitchen. I have looked at Dansko professional chef's clogs, and have found them for a hundred bones down in NYC, which is ten or fifteen dollars cheaper than I have seen online. My problem is that I need to replace all of these shoes, but they're all expensive shoes. Aside from the sneakers, they should all run around a hundred dollars, give or take ten or fifteen. Aww, man, it hurts. I can't decide which to buy first, which ones I need more. It sucks. I know that I'll have all of them, with the exception of sneakers because they wear out quicker, for a long time. My Dr. Marten's shoes lasted me three years, the boots, ten years, and I have heard that the clogs last a long time too. Which to buy first, which to buy first? It's hard to tell what's a want purchase and what's a need purchase. Sure I need shoes to go to the Corporation in. Do I care if they're crappy like the ones I have now? No, so that makes it a want. I kind of need boots to drudge around the snow in here in Boston, since it's snowing AGAIN. But the winter will be over soon, so I could probably hold off, so that makes them a want. Finally, since I am planning on having a career in the kitchen, it would be best to get good kitchen shoes soon, which kind of makes them a need. But, since I'm only working in the kitchen two nights a week right now, I could make due with what I have been wearing for now, which makes them a want. It's all so confusing. The only one that's out of the running is the sneakers, because I haven't been doing much exercising lately. Yeesh. So many decisions.
Anyways, I'm going to head off to sleep. I'm training some kid tomorrow. Haha. Wish me luck.
