line cook.

Chaos.

2012-01-02T23:19:00.000-08:00

I'm standing in the kitchen at Eleven Madison Park, and I should be paying attention to the cook carefully pouring liquid nitrogen into my cocktail. She's explaining the entire process and ingredients, and i'm pretty sure there is some clever allusion to a digestif or something, but I dont hear any of it. It's not because im disinterested, or because I have had a dozen glasses of wine. (OK, that may have had a little to do with it.) It's because it is SO FUCKING NOISY IN THERE. And I feel completely at home. Whenever I have been fortunate enough to have been invited into a fine dining kitchen it has always been whispery quiet. They usher you in, everyone sort of looks up at you and half smiles, and you more or less skulk around in the bitch corner until your time is up, and they show you to the door. EMP however is a mosh pit; It's fast and loud and crowded and for fucks sake I just want to jump in there right now and cook. The composed chaos of it all sends shivers down my spine. Fine dining is so much sexier when it's humanized like this.

I haven't written here in a long time. And as much as I would like to blame that on being too busy with maintaining the business and fatherhood, the truth is that I haven't had anything to say. Linecook had its run and served (and still to some extent, serves) its purpose. I'm proud of it and thankful for everything it has brought me. But the truth is that I look at the person that wrote it and he is not here. I do not recognize him anymore.

In the past year my career has reached a point where things started to settle down a bit. Hapa found its groove, I added two amazing chefs to my team, and the food started to really reach people. It seemed like a good time to step back and take stock of where we had been, where we would be going. A time to focus in on everything that had slipped through my fingers during that first difficult year. Instead I wanted things to be hard again. I craved the struggle. The person who started this blog at one point found refuge in cooking. It was a place to find peace. Then somewhere along the way the stress fractures started to give way and a volatile mix of worry, self doubt, and anger...and for fucks sake it felt glorious. There was no more potent cocktail that could make my adrenaline flow and force me to focus in.

Fiending for chaos is not a sustainable option for healthy living. When things are good you're on edge. When service is going smoothly you become irrational, irritated. Instead of bearing hardship through the beauty and intensity life offers you, instead you face it alone. You mistake your anger for quiet stoicism...dignity. Poor choices are made...professional and personal. Nothing will ever be good enough ever again--only youre too blind to see it.

What is a life well spent? Is it cooking and stars? Is it accolades and endorsement deals and making a buck? Is it a million followers or facebook friends? What the fuck is the point if the pleasure is only coming from the difficult parts?

notes

i just realized last week--almost all of the people in my life currently are people that create/make things...
new york. different this last time around
dj shadows the less you know, the better is brilliant
im deeply grateful for Coi, because I cant really see it existing in any other city besides SF
Svet thinks we should do a podcast
Mostly this felt incoherent, but like Violet says, sometimes you have to write
Kids crying. Gotta go.

What happened, part 1.

2011-05-23T21:33:00.000-07:00

8/25/08
Im standing at the expo station as the clock nears 1am at Nopa. Corey is crouched eating a burger quietly, and Paulie and Ponder are starting to break down their mise. Paulie shoots me a look with his eyebrows raised--the kind of look that says "Fuck dude. That was a rough one." Ponder's usual jubilance is absent...possibly being weighed down by his soaked through chef coat and bandanna. Corey throws his arm around Ponder and shakes him, shouting "FUCK YEAH, DUDE! 500 COVERS!" not sounding completely convinced that hes actually excited about it. I turn to Paulie. "When we leave here Paulie, nothing will be hard ever again. There is nothing that any kitchen can throw at us after we've been through this. It almost makes me worried that anything we do after this will be too easy. We might get bored. We should quit now while we're ahead."

This will wind up being the dumbest thing I have ever said in my entire life.

8/31/2009
Coming back from a vacation to New York, my head was spinning. I was being considered for a chefs job. Chef de cuisine. New York City. In a great restaurant. I immediately spoke to my current Chef about it, and woke up early for phone interviews, and sweated about impending tastings, and what it would mean to move across the country. I was nervous, and doubtful, but felt completely ready to take the next step. Then a week before everything was set to jump off, life intervened, and the whole thing fell through.
Standing with my Chef as he loads his car for an off-site event, I tell him the whole story, then mutter this:

"I think im gonna open a ramen spot."
"I think that's a good idea. Do you have a name?"
"Yeah. Im gonna call it Hapa Ramen."

6/16/2010
I have planned poorly.

It's Wednesday, the day before our big farmers market debut. A month earlier I was getting my teeth kicked in at Coffee Bar, and im not going to re-cap it all over again here. The past month has been all about redemption, and planning, and building myself back up. But here, in this moment, as I prep by myself, (Victor is in school, Susanna and I have not met, and my other cook had to go to her stripper job. Seriously.) I realize that I am deeper in the weeds than I have ever been in my entire life. My last day at Nopa was Sunday, and there are several things that I have not taken into account:

cooking is easy. driving around picking up everything because you dont have proper accounts set up with vendors is really fucking hard
making 300 portions of noodles all by yourself takes a very, very long time.
fuck that. prepping for 300 covers all by yourself, no matter what it is, more or less sucks.
going out for tequila on monday was a mistake
strippers are less than reliable, especially when youre not paying them.

In the midst of all of my stress, and multi-tasking, La Cocina informs me that the kitchen will be closing at 5. It's Wednesday. They always close at 5 on Wednesday. They told me this. It was in my paperwork.

I. Am. Fucked.

As I calculate how many portions of noodles I can knock out per hour, and eye the case of snap peas that I havent even touched yet, and watch the clock inch towards 5, utter panic sets in. La Cocina agrees to let me stay until 6...then 7...then 8...but seriously dude, you HAVE to be out by 9. I pack up all of my noodle mise, and 5 hours later my home kitchen is covered in flour. I blanch snap peas and chard, and through kindness (and pity) Nopa allows me to store all of my prep in their walk-in for the night.

Nothing would ever be hard again? Seriously. What the fuck.

I drive home, and sleep for one hour. I'm not questioning the choices ive made, but as I lay down in bed, with my two month old son sleeping a few feet away, I do start to question my cooking ability, my intelligence, and how much easier it would have been to have just taken that well paying job in NYC. The first Hapa Ramen service starts in 5 hours.

2010, you were a motherfucker.

2010-12-30T23:32:00.001-08:00

2010, you were a motherfucker. Without a doubt, you have been the most difficult 12 months of my life. If we were cellmates, you would've had me in lipstick. I was your bitch. 2010, you ambushed me in the dark, shoved my face up against the mirror, and forced me to look at myself for who and what I am. I fucking hate you 2010. And I am forever indebted to you for everything that you gave me.

2010, you revealed my weaknesses by slapping me in the face. Very public failures that led to sleepless nights that led to wildly aggressive, mildly productive days that led to more sleepless nights that somehow led me to a logical idea of how to proceed in the most efficient way. You took my dangerous overconfidence and stripped it down to it's core; an inflated ego resting on a wobbly scaffolding made up of too many compliments, too few challenges, and the idea that I could do anything, at any time. 2010, at a certain point you were beating me down in such a brutal way that you made me feel deeply connected to the world around me. Turmoil, frailty, unrest, rage. You forced me to find a way to escape myself if only through running until my legs cramped and my lungs ached, and I was far, far away, with no choice but to walk back home alone, insecurities and fears taunting me the whole way.

2010, you made me smarter, by showing me how stupid I am. It's been a hell of thing, being out there alone, and trying to figure things out...especially after I thought I had things all figured out. I made my decisions based on a frail mix of past experiences, instinct, and common sense. And this would work fine for me until I realized I had been being completely inefficient; burning up money, hours, and my teetering sanity. Then, one moment at a time the pieces would start to come together, and I would quietly curse myself and let in a smile, if only for a moment. And to think now that I have it all figured out would be ridiculous. I'm sure that in six months ill be feeling many of these same frustrations with my past self. For as smart as I like to think I am, I sure am a fucking idiot sometimes.

2010, you forced me to be better. If for only one reason. For the first time in my life succeeding had nothing to do with trying to advance my career, or ego, or money. Cooking wasn't about being the best, or the guest, or self-fullfilment. 2010, you gave me the most profound/terrifying experience of my life when you gave me my son, and you showed me a whole new way to approach my work. There is no motivation in the world like working for the survival of another person, and as a cook, to experience this...it's illuminating. Every goal, every idea, every plate, every task, they all end up relating back to who it is that you're working for. Suddenly the way people react to your craft becomes so much more..personal. To impact my work this year was to impact my son, and even if it made me unreasonable at times, it absolutely made me cook better, and try harder.

2010, through you I accomplished so much. Achievement. Hurt. Humiliation. Elation. The making of new friendships. The transformation of old friends into enemies. The abandonment of the familiar, the safe, for the great unknown. You gave me a son. You gave me the feeling that everything and nothing was impossible. 2010, you scared the fuck out of me, and never let me act like a little bitch about it. I hate you 2010. And I thank you for every single minute.

whats been going on the past 9 months: SF, father & son, colton, colton, vic, colton, work, sold out, mer mer, last days at nopa, colton, to-do lists

some old stuff.

2010-08-26T22:57:00.001-07:00

a single note:

this blog isnt dead. it's not going away, its not over. here's some stuff that's just been sitting here for months.

quotes and conversations.

Me: Is your back still fucked up?
Goose: I think it's my hip.
Me: You know what's good for that?
Maritess: Boning down.
Goose: Boning down nasty style.
Me: Yoga. Geez you guys.

Dega: Have you ever been to Cony Island?
Me: No.
Dega: They have this game there called shoot the freak. You shoot this raver with purple hair.
Me: Yeah, but it's different now.
Dega: It is?
Me: Yeah. Now it's called shoot the hipster. And instead its some asshole with a red beanie and a fixie.
Dega: I hate you.

"Some girls are too nice to tell a guy no. That's how I ended up on a date with a guy that worked at the renaissance fair."
-Maritess

"Come on Pito, show me your dark side. You know, I don't think it's that dark. I think it's kinda white."
-Camaal, talking to Eddie.

Merrell: Gerardo, you look like Julius Ceasar.
Gerardo: Does that make you wanna fuck me?

Eddie: Hey Dega.
Dega: Yeah.
Eddie: Guess what i'm gonna do tomorrow?
Dega: What?
Eddie: Bone down regular style.
Gerardo: Regular.

Me: Camaal, you don't want to lose ten pounds. You'll look like Eddie.
Camaal: I don't wanna look like Eddie.
Me: No.
Eddie: What. Are you talking about my stinky pussy?

(Merell and I are bickering. I pass her a pan of chickens mid argument.)
Me: And take your fucking cock, because its the only kind you're getting!
Merrell: Well...I don't have anything to say to that. So fuck you.

Eddie: Here's a good one. Wanna know how much of a pussy I am? I cried through the entire movie "Up."
Me: (Hysterical laughing)
Merrell: Why are you volunteering this information?
Eddie: Have you seen it? It's a very touching movie.
Al: Fire back 40.
Me: I'm sorry Al, I couldn't hear you because I was too busy laughing about Eddie crying through the entire movie "Up."
Maritess: Have you seen it? It's a very touching movie.

from top: pig diagram, restrictions apply, mer-mer's birthday, making james freeman cringe, pigs head, burning towels, butchery, tomato, amy brown, los angeles, a big ass mimosa.

The stage. A guide.

2010-03-09T11:44:00.001-08:00

Question of the week/fill in the blanks: on a stage, you should ___. On a stage you should not ___. What makes a good stagiere?
amigadehelado@linecooka stage should pay attention, ask questions, taste things. Get out of the way when neccessary. Don't set stage hours by a "clock"
Tanukipdx@linecook once had a stage grab my favorite yanagiba ($$$$Japanese slicer) and cut themselves a piece of bread w/it. end of stage.
Tanukipdx@linecook a good stage silently&invisibly gets stuff done...like a little mise en place fairy. a bad stage snacks on people's mise
Benjamin_Parks@linecookOn a stage you quietly take notes You should not start telling your glory stories of all the other restaurants you have worked in.
tournant@linecook -should//STFU, do what we tell yo, stay out of the way...should not//show off your skull n knives tattoo, hit on servers
adoxograph@linecook on a stage you should absorb and remember the best and worst of what you see, esp little details
adoxograph@linecookon a stage you should not ever say to yourself well, I'm not getting paid so I don't have to (clean, be on time, fill the blank)
PrixFixeOnline@linecookYou should work your arse off, you should not stand around after finishing a task. Always ask chef for next task, speed is a must.
jrnavlag@linecook U should work and learn. U should not let the pay or lack of it be your drive. Do your research. Then shut up about it.
ingridc@linecookYou should shut up, be nice, listen and follow directions. You should not touch a cook's mise unless asked. Or get mouthy, ever.
ingridc@linecook p.s.-last wk's stage told chef he wants to trail our killer pasta man Javi.. so he could show him how to make it right #dieinafire
randomplacement@linecook a good stage contributes to the team and fits in with the team
randomplacement@linecook work and learn, run your mouth
Gchef703@linecook What makes a good stagiere? Hard-Working, Humble, Passionate person who Loves food and is willing to do anything to learn!
Gchef703@linecook
you should not Be a Pre Madonna!!! Should not be late, ask for days
off, breaks or a special jacket to show off to your friends
Gchef703@linecook you should Be a Sponge Listen! Learn! and ask a million questions even if they are stupid questions. ask em!

You're about to explode. There's too far too much blood and oxygen coursing through your veins, and your eyes your pupils are so dialated that they would catch the attention of any police officer you came across. You just finished your stage, and it went so beautifully that you're too wound up to eat, or drink, or even talk about it. This is one of those perfectly fleeting moments, so you just sit there on the bus, missing your stop, so you can soak it all up. You start Tuesday as the new fish cook. Unless:

You blew it. It seemed like your stage was going ok, but right around the end of the first turn the sous told you that you could take off. You considered protesting, but instead you decided to change, have a smoke and get a bite to eat. Sitting down at the bar, you order your food and a drink, and sometime later the chef tells you that you're welcome back anytime...but no job is discussed. And you dont ask about one. Your stage is over, and you wasted it. So how did this happen?

Prep:
You went into the restaurant between lunch and dinner service dressed appropriately, resume and knives in hand. For a week you've been reading the menu on-line, and bringing yourself up to speed on the background of the chef and the restaurant itself. After your chat with the chef, you let him know that you're ready to stage that evening if he would like. He tells you to come back Friday instead. On Friday you show up early, smiling and introducing yourself to any staff that you come across. You take your knives and a spoon out of your kit that you slimmed down a bit, and settle in with any prep work that they'll give you--herb picking, cutting bread, citrus supremes. You work quietly and cleanly, with eyes and ears open so you dont miss a thing. Unless:

You drop into the restaurant as you walk by, and approach the chef who is expediting a fairly busy lunch service. He doesn't have time to talk to you right now, but tells you to come back that evening at 4 for a stage. You tell him that you have tickets to a show, but could you come in tomorrow? He asks for a resume. You dont have it with you. When you do show up for your stage, the chef asks you why you want to work in his restaurant; what is it about this place, this food, that turns you on? You stumble through some bullshit answers. He smirks at you. Unpacking your kit you pull out 6 knives, a spatula, tongs, and a handful of spoons. The sous steps in next to you.
"Um. What's all that shit for?"
Working through your prep, you dont shut up--about your last job, your opinions on how things should be done, and who you think should win top chef. No one really responds to you, but you go on anyways.

Service:
The chef had told you that he needed a fish cook, so this is the station that you stick with through prep, line-up, and into service. During line up you politely ask if you can taste mise, and as you taste dishes you take notes, and try to memorize the station set-up. Just before service you sweep the station and wipe down everything for the cook. You ask the chef if he wants you anywhere else during service, but he says no. During service you pull plates, and garnish, but generally try to stay out of the way and observe. Eventually the pace starts to build a bit, and the cook catches your eye.
"Alright. We're going on 7 fish and 6 scallops. We'll go together, ok? You take the scallop dish."
An hour later you're cooking all of the proteins on your own, with the fish cook plating and garnishing for you. When the sous asks how it's all going for you, you tell him you love it, and want to close the station that night. There will be no end of shift meal or drink for you. Just a cold family meal, a watery iced tea, and a nod of approval from the brigade. Unless:

You bounce around the kitchen getting all up in everyones shit, but not really absorbing anything. You taste without asking, and more than once you criticize the food. During one of your rants about how you used to do it at your last job, the grill cook catches looks at you and growls "Well that's so fucking interesting." Most of your evening is spent leaning against the ice machine, and when you do step in, you're so fucking slow wiping plates and garnishing that the sous knocks the chervil out of your hand and shouts "JUST FUCKING SEND IT!" You cook zero orders, and when you sit down to eat at the bar, you order an expensive cocktail, and dont tip. You. Fucking. Blew. It.

There is nothing like a stage in any other field of work. Sure, athletes have tryouts, and actors have auditions. A stage is both. It lasts many hours, is physically and mentally draining, and everyone is already expecting you to fail before you even begin. It's the culinary equivalent of getting jumped into a gang. You get one chance to get it right, and being thrust into an unfamiliar, borderline hostile environment guarantees that if you don't fail outright, you are at very least probably going to make a stupid mistake.

And at the end of your stage, it's all of this pressure that makes succeeding all the more sweet. To have cooked well, and won over the cooks that let you into their home is a special thing. It's a re-affirming rite of passage, and a fleeting feeling you only get to enjoy every once in a while. Don't let your stage just pass on by.

notes.

that's not bechamel.
holy shit! I updated finally!
podcasts are coming back. no really. they are.
get some rest.
burrito

stepping into an open grease trap means youll probably need new shoes.
that's pasta water. not a deep fryer.
fish & farm seems like its becoming the new industry night off spot

Quotes and Conversations.

Me, to Gerardo: Hey dude. Tell your partner if he mouths off to me again, im gonna tie him up.
Eddie: Shhiiiiiiieeeeeett. You wish! You wish you could enter the dungeon!

(I pinch Eddie's nipple.)
Eddie: Hey dude! Not the nipples!
Me: Oh, im gonna get the nipples.
Eddie: (pause) I'm...ticklish.

Me: You can call him a pussy if you want to.
Eddie: I don't want to call him a pussy. That would be the pot calling the kettle black.

Me: Eddie. Want me to give you a hand massage?
Eddie: No.
Me: With my balls?
Eddie: That's not a massage.

Goose: Those new light fixtures are bad. The block looks good now.
Me: Yeah dude, they're nice.
Eddie: And they reduce light pollution.
Me: Fuck off Ed Begley Jr.
Goose: Get the fuck outta here with that shit.
Eddie: Did you know I can ruin any conversation?

"I'm a human snuggie. You wrap me around you and watch t.v. I come in different colors. But mostly white."
-Corey. Human snuggie.

Gerardo: Can I borrow your skimmer thingy?
Merrell: It's called a spider.
Gerardo: I know a guy named spider.

Me: Elton John has hairless balls? What?
Goose and Dega: I have hairless balls!
Me: I hate you guys.

Me: Would you bone down with a guy that wears a lot of gold jewelry?
Dega: How much gold jewelry?
Me: A lot.
Dega: Hell yeah. Mr. T?
Me: You'd bone down with Mr. T?

Me: Wouldn't that be cool? If you had a hinge on your balls? You could move them like this.
Goose: Yeah. But then you'd have to grease them. You wouldn't want squeaky balls.

Merrell: My stomach is getting flat. See?
(Gerardo is watching the conversation.)
Merrell: This doesn't concern you Gerardo.
Gerardo: I was watching you touch yourself.

"I evaluate every stripper on a case by case basis."
-Eddie.

Eddie: You missed out. I brought candy yesterday.
Corey: What are you? A pervert? Halloween's over bro.

Eddie: I think old people are cute. I saw some old people going into Good Vibrations...
Corey: Stop. Stop. Sentences should not include old people and Good Vibrations.

(Jamie is feeling my abs.)
Jamie: You should feel his abs. It's impressive.
Merrell: I'd rather feel yours. (Jamie walks away)
Merrell: Was that weird?

(Merrell walks into the corner of the stove.)
Me: Did you just jab your pussy with the oven?
Merrell: Yes. Even though I don't have balls, it still hurts.
Me: Graceful. You're a real pageant queen.
Merrell: I'm a fuckin lady.

from top: sautee, line up, al, a gift from ryan farr, mer-mer's balls, where am i vol. 6, fuck you in your ear, super bowl, you figure it out

Composure.

2010-01-18T12:06:00.001-08:00

Would you rather work with someone that was fast but a completely out of control, or a person that was slower but composed and in control?
CookhouseSF@linecook As one of the latter I'd like to work with the former
KellyNg1@linecook i would take slower over sloppy anyday. seems easier to speed up a nice slow snail than to tame a rabid slob.
KyleCWilkinson@linecook Fast and out of control. Would balance my slower and more composed workstyle.
theNeilD@linecook What about fast and composed with poise; that's true talent. Those are the people that make you better.
aphexplotz@linecook Slow and composed. I've worked with both, and I'd rather be down one than have someone I can't predict or control.
rupski23@linecook
composed and in control. no question about it. the kitchen is crazy enough that if your leader is spazzing then its gonna be bad..
FattedCalf@linecookComposed. Definitely composed. In my experience, people who go too fast and don't think can really put a banana in the tailpipe.
tournant@linecook slow/in control, for sure. fast/out of control=messy, doesn't listen, takes shortcuts
GuyArnone@linecook fast&out of control = slow for the extra time spent fixing Speedy's mistakes.
gardenstatechef@linecook what's the end product? give me speed and insanity if the plates are perfect.
jesachrist@linecook slower and controlled. Working too fast creates more problems than it solves, and in the long run slows down everyone
most_impressive@linecook Slower, but in control. Speed can be taught, but accuracy and commitment to perfection is more valuable, IMO.
TheNPA@linecook All headway gained by being fast is lost in the ER while the Doc stitches Speedy Gonzales back up.
MatthewSievert@linecook in it to win it baby. Planning will allow for swift execution.
cookerguy@linecook Slower and composed, just not too slow. Fast and out of control disrupts others as well.
ingridc@linecook
If I had to choose I'd go door #2. Out of control cook drags the whole ship down w/ them. Slow affects the line too, but less so.
ingridc@linecook (and for the record I've been both quite enough, thanks!)
Benjamin_Parks@linecook Slower but in control. Chaos always creates more work (cleaning, fixing, etc), so quick chaos just produces more work faster.
cnewton9 @linecookneither, I always try to teach the kids that efficiency=speed vs accuracy, fast but sloppy no good, slow but perfect also no bueno
Gchef703@linecook Slow,Composed and in control FTW! They can always gain speed later. But sometimes speed is what you need! good question.
stresscake@linecookabsolutely slow composed and in control. Frenzy causes stressful miserable work environment. Calmness is more productive over LT

Jerry:
It's looking like a slow Tuesday night, and the cooks are coasting through their prep period, all laughs and smiles. There's a lightness in the air, and there are plans being made for days off. A special family meal is on the stove, and reggae plays on the dining room sound system. Everyone is a quiet shadow of their usual kitchen self. Except for Jerry. Jerry has his headphones in, playing Pantera so loudly that the cooks across the kitchen can hear it. He bounces around nervously, and just before service he jumps around and rolls his head like a boxer getting ready for a fight. The kitchen will do 135 covers tonight. Jerry will treat it like he just defeated the Roman army.

Denise:
The first thing Denise does when she comes in is crack a joke and say hello to everyone in the kitchen. She'll breeze through prep with a smile on her face. Then when things get busy on the second turn, she will completely lose her shit. There will be muttering under her breath, mise slammed around, and a constantly shaking head--like each order on her station is a personal insult to her mother. Denise will stop calling back tickets completely, until things escalate with her sous chef to the point of yelling and him kicking her off the station. Nights like this will happen at least once a week.

Mark:
Mark is the first cook to show up for work, every day. He sets up his station meticulously. There will not be a single detail missed, and he will be almost invisible while he works. There is a quiet dignity to him during this time. Then when service starts he start acting like someone has taped a live grenade to his back. There will be dips and dives and spins and some of the most violent movement you have ever seen. The other cooks will be watching him out of the corners of their eyes. At best, he will end up exhausting the entire kitchen.

Jen:
Jen is like a warm blanket; when she is next to you on the line, you feel comforted...happy. She helps quietly, cooks with dignity, and maintains a level of composure far beyond her years of experience on the line. She never raises her voice, or flails, or loses her temper. Her movements are so fluid they appear slow--yet she's always setting the pace for the other cooks. Sitting with her, eating family meal, you ask her how she does it.
"It's just food, right? Why panic? I'm not doing open chest surgery or anything."

Composure. It's what separates good cooks from great ones. It's that quality that causes a guest to sit and watch, transfixed by the grace and elegance of a dinner service. It's certainly not the most important quality for a cook to have...but it's something that kitchen lifers immediately recognize and come to respect in their peers.

When I started cooking, my only goal was to be fast. Aside from not working clean and generally spinning around in my head, I probably looked like I was having a seizure. Then I started to notice the other cooks around me that were better than me. They were so collected...so expressionless. Did they just not care as much as me? Did they just not take things as seriously? Well, no. They just knew what they were doing. As my sous chef at that time said to me: "You don't want to look like a little bitch."

Time passed on, and as I slowly came to find a comfortable place in my own skin, my movements became more relaxed, but my head didnt. I still felt like I was one step away from flipping over my cutting board, throwing my salt at the food runner, and fist and elbowing my way out of the front door. It would take lying to myself to cure it; daily affirmations of "You're on control, you can cook, you're a motherfucking handsome badass." It sounds ridiculous. It was. And it worked.

Finding a way to be composed makes the other cooks look differently at you. The crew will respect you, your chef will be quietly impressed by you, and your skills will improve. You'll have more energy. And you'll know what to tell Mark when he starts to lose it.

So how do you deal wih it? Where do you find your place of balance? How do you compose yourself when things get crazy?

Notes:

That G-Shock lasted a hard 10 years on my wrist. I washed it by putting it through the dishwasher.
If the girl is more Ghost World than Mean Girls, it's probably a good thing.
When someone says they did a "stint" in a kitchen, what the fuck does that mean?
In order to truly find balance in life, I think a person really has to explore every single corner of the human experience before coming back to center.
Ingrid writes some good stuff.
What's harder to live with: Regret or shame?
Podcasts. Really fucking up the whole podcast thing this time around.
the howbadcanitget blog could be very hilarious.
pastry chefs for the culinary fantasy league. taking nominations now. (amy brown, luis villavelazquez, william werner, bill corbett, melissa chou...who else?)

quotes and conversations.

Goose: Aaah!
Eddie: Did I startle you?
Goose: Nah, I just didn't know you had that much ass.
Eddie: I got a badonkadonk. Where do you think all the hot dogs go?
Goose: (laughs)
Eddie: Put that on your blog.
Me: Oh, i'm going to asshole. That's one of the dumbest things you've ever said.

Me: If you could bone down with a dolphin, would you do it?
Dega: I had a dream that I was swimming with dolphins the other night. You just reminded me.

"I don't like thongs. Does that make me gay?"
-Dega.

Me: If we were on ecstasy, would you suck my toes?
Corey: Probably.
Goose: I would watch if I were on E.
Corey: That would make you gay.

Dega: This girl showed me her mission tattoo. You're gonna get mad. It was a burrito, with the foil folded into wings, wearing Ray-Bans and drinking a Tecate. She was so pumped.
Me: So did she give you syphilis before or after she showed you the tattoo?
Dega: Before.

Me: Why do I always have to ask people to say "I love you" back to me?
Goose: I love you dude.
Me: Man fuck you Goose!

"You know what this music sounds like? The music from Sim City."
-Eddie.

Me: None of my underwear fits anymore.
Amy: What, your dick got smaller?

Me: Would it be weird if I got stigmata out of my butt?
Dega and Amy: That's not stigmata!
Corey: It's called two piece Tuesday. It comes out in two pieces.

Me: How did you come to pee on her?
Dega: She asked me to pee on her.
Eddie: We are living in an awesome time.
Me: Well it had to be in the shower, right?
Eddie: Was it in the shower?
Dega: No.

Me: Eddie, if I asked you on a date, would you expect me to pay?
Eddie: Oh hell yes.
Me: Would you give me some action after?
Eddie: Yes. I might be a lot of things, but i'm no tease.

Me: Man, this restaurant is way busier at Christmas time with that new Bloomingdale's down the street. (pause) Mongoose, there's no Bloomingdale's down the street.
Goose: What the fuck is a Bloomingdale's?

mer mer, through my cup, eating is fun, thats a dumb shirt, can head, tattoo, chef415?, mischief, a lot of data usage.

2009.

2009-12-29T11:43:00.001-08:00

Here I sit, at the end of 2009, and it feels like everything is different. None of the details have changed; I still live in San Francisco, and I still cook at Nopa as a sous chef. I'm still writing this blog. But when I look in the mirror, or have a quiet moment to myself, things feel different. 2009 was a crazy year for me. It was a good year for me. In 2009 this blog seemed to find its place. Through things that seem as trivial as a twitter account, or a podcast, I met people and made friendships that are deeply important to me. Through countless emails I was able to connect with cooks from all over the world. As everything seemed to be expanding and moving towards one big interpersonal disconnect, the opposite ended up happening. My world got smaller. Then I turned 30, and came to realize that I needed to take life a little more seriously. Soul searching, introspection, whatever. I made some decisions, and decided to stick to them. Then I woke up one day, and wow. Things had changed.

2010 is a little scary to think about. A friend of mine said to me "2010 is the first year I haven't been excited about." I had never thought about it like that, and im not sure that's my sentiment. But it does feel like a giant, scary beast that I have to tackle...like im getting into the ring with a faceless terror. In the following year im going to to be faced with figuring out whether im a better writer or a better cook. There's a chance that this blog could end in 2010. There isnt an infinite amount of topics for me to write about here. Sometimes I feel like im just regurgitating the same old garbage. Add to that the fact that im going to be a father, and want to open a restaurant this year, and things start to get very cloudy and scary and im suddenly very aware that nothing feels perfect or right, but things just are. It's an amazing thing to be faced with the rest of your life. I thought I knew what it would feel like, and how I would deal with it. I don't. And I suspect that's perfectly normal.

The thing is, its not like anything is actually ending. If anything, things are just beginning. After a year like 2009, where things were so good and changed so much, I can only imagine what's coming. It's possible that just being daunted about knowing that you have to make something for yourself is enough to leave you shaking...but maybe its better to try to run through all of the insecurity and bullshit now, before everyone is toasting at midnight.

So whats next? What's going to happen come July, or next December? Shit, what's going to happen next week? Does the fear or uncertainty ever go away? Do things ever start to feel right, or perfect? Or is it more important to just let things happen?

My Best Meals of 2009:

Coi
Flour & Water, every time
5 Points
Ippudo
Freeman's

Places I Ate At, Often:

Flour & Water
Fish & Farm
Out the Door
Katana - Ya
Nopalito
Arguello Market

Stuff I Couldn't Live Without:

A good pen
The iphone
My pocket knife
A Moleskin, even if it is falling apart
Friends
The Pixies, TV on the Radio, Old Outkast
Access to Twitter
Flickr
My Macbook

Culinary Fantasy League:
My Team:

Raw - Michael Black
Garde Manger - Jon Smulewitz
Pasta - Micheal Tusk
Veg/Garnish - Mourad Lalou
Fish - Stuart Brioza
Meat - Ryan Farr
Sous Chef - Daniel Patterson
Chef - Thomas Keller

Eddie's Team:

Sautee - Charles Phan
Veg - Jeremy Fox
Garde Manger - Taylor Bottechier
Grill - Ryan Farr
Pasta - Tom McNaughton
Sous Chef - Me (haha!)
Chef - Jacques Pepin

Mer-Mer's Team, based solely on looks:

Michael Black
Brandon Jew
Tom McNaughton
Jay Foster
Mongoose

quotes and conversations:

Me: There's snowmobiles. And guns.
Kitty: Can we shoot guns while we're on the snowmobiles?
Me: I guess so.
Kitty: Wow. It's like a Mariah Carey video.

(Merrell is hitting me in the shoulder, over and over again)
Paulie: Isn't Savannah a pornstar?
(The hitting continues)
Me: You know Paulie, not everything has to do with porn.
(More hitting)
Me: What?!?
Merrell: It's Ryan Seacrest on seat three!
Me: Yeah. I know. Anyways...
Merrell: THIS! IS! AMERICAN! IDOL!

Me: Do I look like a botanist to you?
Gerardo: I don't know what a botanist looks like.

"Mer-mer, if I gave you a titty twister and asked you to name five candy bars, could you do it?"
-Corey

Dega: You're the boss.
Me: That's right. I am the fuckin' boss. I'm the fuckin' Bruce Springsteen of this kitchen. And you're my Courtney Cox. I'm gonna dance with you onstage, which is then gonna turn into a lucrative sitcom career in the nineties, only to have you marry David Arquette and have it fall to pieces in the two-thousands.
Merrell: And don't forget the numerous miscarraiges.
Me: .......

"I thought of that old joke, y'know, the, this... this guy goes to a
psychiatrist and says, "Doc, uh, my brother's crazy; he thinks he's a
chicken." And, uh, the doctor says, "Well, why don't you turn him in?"
The guy says, "I would, but I need the eggs." Well, I guess that's
pretty much now how I feel about relationships; y'know, they're totally
irrational, and crazy, and absurd, and... but, uh, I guess we keep
goin' through it because, uh, most of us... need the eggs." -Woody Allen, Annie Hall

What is bad cooking?

2009-12-16T12:33:00.001-08:00

Question of the week: What is bad cooking?
jusdeveau@linecook, Bad cooking is usually doing something with little regard to the final outcome, but just to mark it off the prep list.
SpecialDark @linecook What is bad cooking? Not shaving a second off a tedious task. Not learning anything new. Losing respect for the craft.
zellicious@linecook bad cooking-when the food tastes bad and you expected it to be good. chains etc, you know what to expect, bad is unexpected ick
jrnavlag@linecookBad cooking when U not only not care abt wht U're doing, but U dont care abt the outcome. lk getting "steamed" fish frozen inside
ingridc@linecook agree with @Tanukipdx re: bad cooking. Also, for me, cooking and intent have always been connected. Poor intent = bad cooking.
Tanukipdx@linecook BadCooking? It's cooking without thought or care, soul or emotion.Bad cooking & bad fucking have much in common.
swedishmike@linecook Taking good ingredients and making them taste bad.
JessPav@linecook Bad cooking is canned corn, canned green beans and being told "If you don't like it, DON'T EAT IT!"
cloudsandcoffee@linecook when you're in a foul mood and all your negative energy goes into the food... then you eat it. bad cooking!
addycat@linecook bad cooking lacks heart
CraigHatfield@linecook Not honoring the ingredients. Loss of good technique in the face of flash technology.
jcooks@linecook bad cooking is cooking without love or care for the ingredients, the consumer of the food or yourself.
janessao@linecook Mine. ;)
MatthewSievert@linecook"bad cooking" You know the right way, but you skimp and don't give the ingredient, specifically an animal the respect if deserves
KitchenEntropy@linecook bad cooking is lack of passion, care, and self pride. usually found in burn outs and money chasers. oh and applebees and chilis.
ChefinProgress@linecook Bad cooking is when you cease to care what you are doing.
swedishmike@linecook Taking good ingredients and making them taste bad.
pleddy@linecook When you are focusing on new flavor combinations or plating without mastering basic cooking techniques.
laurafrofro@linecook Often it involves underseasoning.
fallwitch@linecook Bad cooking = cooking w/o heart. You don't need passion but you have to want to make the best of the ingredients in front of you.
savorykitchen@linecook Bad cooking is cooking w/out care: either bad ingred, not tasting, forgetting the person who will eat the food you prepare.
m_twang@linecookOr as a very good saucier once told me (repeatedly) "garbage in, garbage out". But he said it with a heavy NY accent which is a +.
m_twang@linecook Bad cooking is a lack of uderstanding. It's the easiest equation quality ingredients and a bit of care equal good results.
swedishmike@linecook Taking good ingredients and making them taste bad.

It's a cold Tuesday night, and you're on a cook's night out; something your crew has looked forward to for days. The plan is to hit a string of new restaurants, eating as much as you can, then topping it all off with bourbon and shameful behavior. Rules are in place: no eating anywhere that anyone has been before. And no salads, pizza, or fancy renditions of mac n cheese.

Things started out well enough. There were some tasty fried bits, the required offal dish, a polite terrine. But the in the past hour, things have taken a turn. There was raw fish paired with fried cheese. There was a risotto that was so rich and salty that your fish cook polished off the wine, straight from the bottle. And the lamb saddle was so over-techniqued that your best-of-friends hot apps cooks started screaming at each other over which part was the meat, and which was the marrow-wrapped tongue and kidney croquette. And it was cold. The night ends with you and the grill guy sitting on a stoop, having a smoke, wondering what happened.

"Maybe they were having an off night..."
"It's only their second month. Did you hear the chef de cuisine came from Mugaritz? Maybe they're just settling..."
"Remember that case of nasty chicken bones we got last Wednesday? Maybe there's an epedemic of bad stocks sweeping the city..."
"I saw that dude Damien in their kitchen. I hate that guy..."

Bad food stays with you. It haunts you. You feel violated--your precious time and money wasted. It's made even worse when friends, or expectations are involved. And it's something that you are more likely to experience as the craft of cooking expands and evolves. But why? Is it as simple as a cook that doesn't care, or that isn't truly passionate about their craft? Of course. But I think in most cases it's something else completely.

Bad cooking happens when things fall out of balance. Temperature. Tastes. Textures. A cook's focus. A cook's attitude. Have you ever eaten a meal with so much technique that the kitchen forgot about the actual taste? Have you ever had a meal so rustic you were left wondering if the kitchen was just slopping it out? Remember that night on the line where you were so focused on your meat temps that your veg was constantly scorched? Remember that night on the line when you were having so much fun that you kept forgetting to add that garnish you worked on for an hour? Balance is essential to good cooking--on every level, and in every position. It's the most difficult thing to achieve--and when it's happening, it's almost invisible. A cook's personality in general is not balanced. A group of people, given to such highs and lows, and dedicated only to pleasure and sensuality...where do you find balance in that?

As cooks comes to know themselves, their awareness of balance slowly starts to reveal itself. They can feel the push and pull of their own emotions. Their heart swells and almost bursts when things are good, and shatters to pieces when things are bad--but they find a way to stay anchored in the middle, head down, with only a deep breath as evidence that they're feeling anything at all. Coercing their mind into this mental middle ground starts to translate into the pan, then onto the plate. The quiet balance in the cooks mind tells them when to hold back and when to push--be it with seasoning, speed, or technique. It's a mental high wire act that's exhausting, with far greater consequences. If you fall off the wire, you die. Big deal. If you cook bad food, you've lost guests and shamed your kitchen. You actually have to live with that.

Some cooks never find balance--and that's ok with them. They produce food that they're happy with--and that the vast majority of diners would be happy to eat. But if the goal is to get better...to progress...to contribute, then isn't it important to find a sustainable method for mentally and physically producing your craft? If the goal is to be the best, and create great food, then isn't balance the most important ingredient?

notes.

sometimes indie music is indie because it completely sucks
something I did not anticipate about losing weight: none of my clothes fitting anymore
food inc. show it to someone that loves mc donalds.
just when you think the tattoo is done, you decide to fill in the rest of your arm.
cold. so motherfucking cold.
a rabbit's scream is terrifying.

quotes and conversations.

Ponder: Dude dude dude dude. I had a dream I got a tattoo of a purple boa constrictor on my back. It was the gayest snake tattoo ever. I had to wake up and check my back.
Dega: I wasn't going to tell you guys, but I had a dream that Richie put me and Ponder in a muffin making contest.

"I know what a safety word is. I don't have one, but I know what it is. And knowing is half the battle."
-Maritess

"Sometimes a dude's just gotta bone down and make chili dogs."
-Eddie

"The bacon does not have the drip. Unlike Dega."
-Ponder

(Eddie tells me his girlfriend has a crush on Jake Gyllenhall.)
Me: Jake Gyllenhall? Really? He's such a pussy.
Eddie: (Laughs, shrugs, and points to himself.)

Gerardo: You haven't seen my sex tape yet.
Me: Does it involve you getting your asshole eaten out?
Eddie: ...I want to go home.

"I ate a valium one time and pooped my pants. It was awful."
-Ponder

"I make sex jokes and stuff!"
-Maritess

Me: You know what bad cooking is? When shit falls out of balance.
Merrell: Did you just say shit balls ass?

Merrell: This is a stupid conversation.
Me: We're cooking. What else are we supposed to talk about?
Merrell: Sex.

"If you were a boy Gerardo, I might've molested you by now."
-Corey

"What's that Steven King movie? Sleep Walkers? Where they turn into cats and are fuckin' all over the place?"
-Goose

Me: If she had her way, there would be a 50 foot high fence between here and Mexico.
Merrell: Who, me?

"Are you too sick to tell me inappropriate stories?"
-Maritess

from top: clementine, radish, service, a cold restaurant, bully, aaliyah's text, missed connections, cara cara, duck

You can't go home again. But you can eat dinner there.

2009-11-29T11:54:00.001-08:00

It's two hours after service, and Joey, Angelo and I are standing in a cold, quiet kitchen. Angelo is layering cured duck legs into confit, while Joey and I de-vein foie gras for terrine. There's a hotel pan simmering on the stove with a thermometer bobbing in it; our poor attempt at sous vide. We drink beers, and talk food, and even after a busy service there's a buzz in the room. Everything feels good. Simple. Around 1am we cook eggs for each other, plan the next day, and walk out with a lightness in our step and our heads held high. Everything is exciting, and constantly changing. We're line cooks. In a year everything will be different; but at this moment we're like a child taking their first steps. We have the whole world ahead of us.

That year passes, and our collective faces have been washed over with a hard gaze and a stack of clipboards. We're still killing it on the line and learning new techniques and flavors...but things have changed. Instead of inspiring late night projects, we inventory, and code invoices, and drink. Heavily. Day to day operations have become less about growth and more about grinding away. 300 covers is no longer a challenge. We take on new dishes, and try to out-technique each other, but for the most part the spark has faded.

The adolescence of your cooking career is a lot like your own adolescence. You're confused, excited, your joints ache and you're probably horny all the time. You feel like you're falling in love, every day. It's scary, and fun, and your heart is racing so much that you start to worry about high blood pressure. You obsess over cookbooks and websites the way a teenager obsesses over pop music and corny vampire novels. You're just trying to survive, every day. Is there any way to get back to this place? To the excitement and hunger you had then? Would you be regressing? Is it even possible to re-capture that old feeling?

Every cook wants to become the chef; they crave the responsibility, and the control. As you move up, you begin to notice something else: Every chef yearns to be back on the line, cooking again. They see their cooks, making constant progress, learning so quickly...and its almost painful. Were you a quick learner that just feels average now? Are cooks doomed to become that jaded chef that only has those sweet memories of the days on the line?

notes:

buddha monk training. not as easy as you might think.
best western has a completely different meaning in our kitchen.
one year on twitter. dang.
you ever go back and listen to the music you were into when you were 15, and realize that there are layers and lyrics you never understood?
podcast season 2 sometimes feels like throwing confetti into the air and just kinda seeing where it lands.
writing this was maddening, and part of me kinda hates it.

quotes and conversations.

Me: OK Gerardo. Who would you rather bone down with. Adam West Batman, or Christian Bale Batman?
Gerardo: Adam West?
Me: Yes. Adam West. Batman. Adam fucking West.
Gerardo: Adam West?
Me: If you were my kid, I would beat you. I would just beat the fuck out of you.
Gerardo: Who's the other guy?
Me: Christian Bale.
Eddie: Trick question Gerardo. George Clooney Batman!
Me: Of course it's George Clooney Batman. I hate you Gerardo.

Me: I had yogurt, granola, a bartlett pear, and 2 cups of coffee. Then I ran three miles and did 200 push-ups and 200 sit-ups.
Eddie: I had cassoulet and I boned down. I win.

Corey: Hey dude. Can you help me make pumpkin or squash pasta?
Me: No. That would be...wait, really? Pumpkin pasta? I mean, I can help you make spinach pasta, or tomato pasta. We could have tricolore pasta.
Corey: Hey dude. Fuck you, fuck you, and fuck you.
Eddie: Hey dude! I brought you chips!

Me: Who doesn't like getting choked when they're getting humped?
Eddie: (Raises hand.)

Me: You ever use that stuff? Organic toilet paper?
Ponder: (defeatedly) This morning.

"Go shave your chin and fuck off."
-Corey

Goose: See that? I make a little well..
Me: That's a really good idea. You're smart...
Goose and Me: ...sometimes.

Me: You never know. You might like it.
Gerardo: What's that?
Me: Sucking dick.
Gerardo: You never know until you try.
Me: Well Eddie's not doing anything right now.
Eddie: Certainly not getting erect, that's for sure.

"I think if I were gonna get a Mt. Rushmore themed tattoo, it would have to be of the bad guys from Superman."
-Maritess

Me: OK. You wanna see a tornado and go in the sewers. What else is in your five year plan Gerardo?
Gerardo: Lots of stuff...
Me: Like what? What the fuck else is in your plan?
Gerardo: I wanna get my asshole eaten out.

Me: I just don't get it. It is spicey. It says spicey fennel sausage on the menu.
Eddie: You know who's to blame? That Rachel Ray bitch.

Goose: Mer-mer. Can you bone down right now?
Merrell: Yeah!
Goose: Well I didn't know if you were still hurt or not.
Merrell: Are you offering or something?
Goose: No. I just didn't know if you could do it.
Merrell: If anything i'm more flexible.

"Isn't that narcissism? When you just fall asleep?"
-Goose.

Me: You ever hear of that? People that use a knife when they bone down?
Corey: Why wouldn't you just use your dick?

from top: cut, mangalitsa, the crew, stained, kozy, gouge away, add spice?, ramen, noodles, pork, where am i?

Podcast 2.6 - What is progressive?

2009-11-17T11:33:00.001-08:00

What is progressive in terms of cooking? Is it molecular? Is it looking back to move forward? Is it a bong full of whiskey? This was our topic on this podcast, which was graciously hosted by Eddie Lau. (hotfoodporn.com) Amy Brown was there, as well as Katrina Dixon. (@ramekinparty) There was food, and booze, and laughs. Things were pretty loose for, oh, 15 minutes or so...but its all entertainment. Enjoy.

ps
If you want to play our drinking game, take a sip every time you hear the word "progressive." You will probably black out.

Opening music is Mullet Head by The Beastie Boys

00:30 - Our worst intro ever.
2:43 - Eddie's fortress of solitude.
4:11 - Why are you making me look dumb in front of our friends?
5:15 - Bong sounds.
6:30 - You guys are making my first time really nice.
7:25 - Alright we're at 7 minutes, and...
8:50 - Well, i've never worked in an office, so...
11:34 - No dude. Im protesting.
14:23 - Annnnd finally onto topic. David Chang/Chris Cosentino/Chris Kostow 7x7 Panel
17:55 - Oh wow, we've got a subject! What the fuck is progressive?
23:47 - And they're probably girls.
25:33 - The asparagus problem.
30:00 - We had to bring up Achatz.
33:45 - What's not progressive?
42:58 - I don't like looking at cookbooks...
44:30 - If you take a drink every time you hear the word progressive...
47:06 - Second devil's advocate of this podcast...
56:03 - Why would you buy the cookbook if not to cook out of it?
1:00:50 - Michael Ruhlman is a bad ass.
1:06:14 - I was typing angrily.

Podcast 2.5 - Jon Bonne and Kevin Kelley. Wine!

2009-11-09T12:03:00.001-08:00

We've only done a couple of off site podcasts, but this was the first time we left the 415 altogether. Amy and I had an interesting drive up to Santa Rosa, where we hung out at Salinia with wine maker Kevin Kelley and wine writer Jon Bonne.

There is an absurd amount of information crammed into this podcast...If you cook, and you feel like you dont understand wine as much you would like, this might help. And of course, we cap it off with plenty of sillyness at the end.

Opening music is "Damaged Goods" by Gang of Four.

2:45 - We're not talking wine...I don't know if there's any wine on this table.
4:20 - I just shot it.
10:55 - It's similar to cooking....
17:30 - If I made the same wine year after year...
19:32 - This is hurting the case for the Nopa frozen food line.
22:29 - So we won't see your wine in Vegas anytime soon?
27:42 - The case for whole clusters.
35:33 - Most of them are under twenty dollars a bottle...
42:42 - What Wolfgang Weber does at restaurants to get a great bottle of wine
46:15 - Jon's favorite wine varietals and regions
49:45 - It's easy to blow off a category of wine, but...
57:20 - What restaurants do you go to for interesting wine?
1:00:00 - Enough wine...
1:10:21 - Are we in the 707?
1:14:40 - I feel uncomfortable where this conversation is going...
1:18:56 - Calling Corey.

Being present.

2009-11-02T11:45:00.001-08:00

Your girlfriend broke up with you. Your dog died. Rent is late. Your car broke down. Your roof is leaking, and you're so broke that you cant wash your work clothes. Everything is fucked. You're completely overwhelmed and miserable, and now you have to catch the bus to work.

Everyone has been there. Life gets so complicated and messy that spending twelve hours in a kitchen seems impossible...and it's only your Monday. You walk around in a haze of distraction, barely present. In the middle of a pick-up, the meat cook nudges up to you and taps you on the shoulder.

"Hey dude. You gonna plate that risotto?"

They say to leave all of your problems at the door when you come into work. Be present and aware, every day. Just cook, and you get to forget about everything. And to a certain extent, I agree with all of this. The problem with this approach is that every cook handles their problems differently. Rudy might get drunk before he comes in. Leslie will slam her oven and refrigerator doors all night. Doug will try to laugh it all off, barely containing his misery, and David just might break down and cry around the time the second turn is sitting down. It's a funny thing to be asked create such highs for others while feeling so fucking low. You're not a robot. So I say take a different approach.

Dont ignore it, embrace it. Let it feed you. Immerse yourself in it. Let every single bit of whats on your mind seep in and consume you, to the point where you feel like you cant take it anymore, then go cook. It will be horrible at first. You'll feel overwhelmed, slow, and you'll barely be able to tell the difference between your spoons and knives. You can handle it though; You barely even notice when you cut and burn yourself anymore. A little bit of adversity isnt going to kill you either. As you go on, you'll start to have a little bit of clarity. The intensity of your problem, coupled with the intensity of cooking, will help you to see things for how they really are. Then suddenly you'll feel that lightness return to your step, and your focus will shift. Your problems haven't actually gone away, but you're at least starting to feel better about them.

Cooking is a place to find peace. In all of the chaos and noise, a good cook is quiet, with their head down. Their distractions become part of their focus. Dealing with these problems on the line, instead of shutting off, or repressing, or simply trying to distract oneself can contribute to a stronger, more focused cook. Sometimes making things really hard is the best way to move forward.

notes:

when you see us high-fiving, we're not congratulating each other, we're making fun of Marina guys.
there are no death traps in our kitchen
when asked to choose between david chang and chez pim, i'm going to choose the former.
if you get a number, you buy beers. that's the rule.
hypothetical thursdays. there are some very strange scenarios that come up

quotes and conversations.

"I gotta admit. I miss the Dick."
-Ponder. Was missing Eddie.

"Yeah dude. I like sardines. They're quick. Like my lovemaking."
-Corey

Corey: Yeah dude! Get in the fuckin' matrix!
Me: You want some trance music to get you in the matrix mood? You've already got the green bandanna on.
Corey: Hey dude, you used to like house music, and my bandanna's the same color as the matrix.
Me: I just said that.
Corey: Really?

Me: So it's about this aspiring singer and neurotic comedy writer. Annie Hall. If she likes it, marry her.
Corey: And if she likes Best From Behind 2, marry her.
Me: Best From Behind?
Corey: Yeah.
Me: The porno you found at your Grandma's house?
Corey: Yeah.

"Hey dude. She wants to pound your masa. Organically."
-Corey

Gerardo: Hey Richie?
Me: Hey Gerardo. (pause) I'm listening. (pause) Go ahead. (pause) WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU WANT?
Gerardo: Have you ever boned down in a walk-in?
Me: That's kinda a cold place to whip out your dick, don't you think? You're supposed to bone down in dry storage on bags of flour, or on the linen.
Gerardo: How about the freezer?

"My name's Corey, not asshole. Thank you."
-Corey

Me: OK. Anything with four legs you have three of. Anything with feathers or scales you have two of. Anything made of dough you have one of.
Eddie: OK.
Camaal: I have three legs pito.

Me: Check out Tony Soprano and his harem of Jersey bitches.
Eddie: Heh. You said Jersey bitches.

Me: What's that smell? Is it the escarole?
Eddie: No, it's the cheese. It smells like noonie.

Me: Eight out.
Eddie: Eight out.
Me: Who's getting ate out?
Eddie: You just said eight out.
Me: Who's getting ate out?
Eddie: You...ahh. Clever word play like that is going to send you right up Technorati.
Me: Technorati? Does that website even exist anymore?
Eddie: I don't think so. I think I just dated myself.

"Nah, i'm serious. I have pictures of it. I was pettin' a goat!"
-Goose

Me: He looks like an evil televangelist.
Paulie: (laughs) Is there such a thing as a good televangelist?
Me: No. But I mean evil like the televangelist in the movie Dragnet.

from top: bistecca alla fiorentina, dario ceccini, corey and al, mer-mer, may the tortas be with you, asshole, oh paulie, ?, damage, pasta, duck

Teaching the Terrible Tournant.

2009-10-21T11:46:00.001-07:00

It's Thursday night, and your stomach is knotted. It's the second day back from your weekend, and your station is just the way you like it. Everything is in its place, your board is clean, and you got through prep quickly enough to sharpen your knife. All of the best cooks are on the line tonight, and your chef de cuisine finally listened to you about the pasta app, using your idea. Everything is going great, but your face is still crossed. And the reason for your stress just stumbled into the kitchen and knocked over your salt.

His name is Oliver, and tonight he's the tournant. The idea is that Oliver has shown enough drive and raw skill to move off of the cold station, and get a chance to lend a hand and even try to fill in for a few orders as the night goes on. Ideally, Oliver would already be proficient on all of the stations in the kitchen before being given this position. But this is simply not the case. The exec sees the tournant as a position to train a cook. So as the night wears on, you will have Oliver on your station, trying not to fuck it all up.

Around 8:30, the kitchen is a hot, sweaty mosh pit. You've barely uttered two words, and there's a soft crease running across your forehead. There's a quiet, aggressive focus driving you. Oliver steps into your station on the pick up, holding a fish spat. His hands are shaking like he's had too much Mountain Dew (which is probably accurate) and when he goes to plate, he cracks your perfectly cooked filets of sole in half. Without missing a beat you drop another one, only to catch him saucing the duck...but not before he dribbles sauce across three other plates. You wipe furiously, flip your fish, and send plates. There are still five orders of pasta on your burners, and you catch Olivers gaze.
"Two and three. Ill take the three. Go."
Oliver twirls the pasta around his tongs and goes to nestle the noodles gently, but his grip slips. The pasta flings out of the spring loaded tongs and into the pile of chives you just cut a la minute. You drop two more orders, race to cut more chives, and finish the plates. Then you realize your sole re-fire scorched.

There are two options in this situation:

You grab Oliver by the collar of his chefs coat, slam him into the ice machine door, and shake him until his eyes bleed. While you choke him with your forearm, you tell him that if he ever steps onto your station again, you will kill his entire family. Your sous tries to pull you off of him, but not before you leave Oliver crumpled on the floor, shaking. Walking away, you point at him. "STAY. IN. YOUR. FUCKING. BITCH. CORNER."
You clean your station down, cook the rest of the night on your own, and find Oliver during family meal. Sitting down with him, he barely looks at you. You look him in the eye, and pause for a moment. You run down the laundry list of dumb shit he did tonight. You re-assure him, and tell him that you had days like this too. You make a plan for him to be back on your station Friday night, where you will slowly walk him through the pick ups. Oliver has become your project. Your responsibility.

Training and teaching a young cook is the seasoned vets job. Sure, you could just show up every day and cook. And when the green cook steps onto the station you are not required to give them much more than a grunt and growl. But the goal in cooking is to pass on your craft. The mark of a great cook is one that leaves a mark on all those around them. In a way, your success will end up hinging on them. As you progress through the kitchen, your ties to these cooks become all the more important. It's no longer about your own station; its about the kitchen, and the guest, and the well being of the restaurant. Everything becomes your responsibility, and subsequently everything becomes your fault when it all goes to shit. It's so easy to lose your patience, and write these green cooks off. But you came up the hard way, and went through all of the same things. And regardless of whether or not there was a cook there to teach you, you have to see the importance of being a mentor. I'm not saying you should hold their hand. A little venom in your approach might help to motivate your student.

Three weeks later, you are working tournant. Your exec would be pissed if he knew you had switched with Oliver, but you feel like the kid is ready to do give your station a shot. As he settles, you step back from the station, stepping in only to turn burners down, wipe plates, and point out small details to him. As he goes to plate his sole, you hold your breath for a moment. But his hand is steady, with that familiar soft crease running across his forehead. The kid is getting it. And you got to guide him down the right path.

notes.

When Corey is on the line, its certain to be an agressive service.
Aziza gets a Michelin star.
When your to-do list covers the front and back of the piece of paper you wrote it on, you should probably only sleep for five hours the night before.
why is it that 75% of my visitors at work are out of their minds drunk?
kinda feel like shit right now.
people are surprisingly non supportive about me getting into shape....but in a fun way.

quotes and conversations:

"There's a direct ratio. As you soften, I harden. You're doing yoga, and i'm turning into a foul mouthed asshole."
-Eddie

Me: You've got a bat in the cave.
Eddie: A bat...oh, an eye googie?
Me: No dude. A bat in the cave...did you say eye googie?
Goose: Put that in the book. He can't get away with that shit.

"At this place they'll make a wax mold of a vagina and give it to you."
-Corey

Me: Whatta ya say Eddie? Would you have a little casual sex with me if I took you to a nice dinner? If I took you to Sebo and got you drunk on soju?
Eddie: If you took me to Sebo...
Me: Then we could just go back to your place.
Amy: I think it's more like a wam-bam thank you maam in an alley.
Me: That is more my style.
Amy: I know it's more your style.

Me: OK. Who would win in a fight: A land shark or a sea bear?
Paulie: Land shark.
Camaal: Land shark.
Eddie: It's gotta be the land shark.
Gerardo: Sea bear.
Me: Why?
Gerardo: Cuz it's a fuckin' bear!
Me: OK, same question, but this time it's between a four headed eagle and a flying rattlesnake.
Gerardo: I got a rattlesnake for my tenth birthday.

Gerardo: What the fuck is espinacas?
Me: Spinach.......Gerardo, I don't want you using language like that in the kitchen.
Gerardo: Spanish?

"Ah skeet skeet skeet. That's right. I said it."
-Eddie

from top: 3am stock, creamy head, corey, that was close, pork belly.

Do you cook?

2009-10-14T12:00:00.001-07:00

You've been on the meat station for eight months now, and after rotating through hot apps, pasta, and fish, you feel like you've found your niche. In the beginning it was all bad; missed temps, scorched lamb saddles, and over salted steaks. But as time went on, you started to kill it. There was fluidity in your movements, and a confidence in your approach. You were quickly accepted as a member of the "A" team. Service stopped being a struggle, and instead became second nature. If your brigade was a sports team, you would easily be one of the star players. Your ego grew a bit, but that was ok. You really felt like a cook.

It's just past midnight on Saturday, and you're at the bar with your crew. Over a handful of beers and shots, you talk shit, and brag about how no one else can hold down your station like you do. Everyone is patting themselves on the back, and feeling cocky. When cooks from a chain restaurant down the street walk in, everyone puffs their chest out a bit more; your crew is the made up of the best cooks in town, and you know it. You notice that your sous isn't having any part of the festivities, and is casting a sideways glance at you in particular...but you ignore it and take another shot.

The next day you're breezing through prep, having a laugh with your crew, and still talking shit. As you wipe down your station, your sous walks over and places an onion in front of you.
"What's up?"
"Brunoise. I'm timing you. Go."
You hear the beep of his stopwatch as he looks sternly at you. At first you laugh...then you realize he's not joking.
"Go motherfucker. I said im timing you."
You halve the onion, peel it, and a short time later, you're done. He runs his hand through your brunoise, and holds up the ends of the onion, still whole.
"What about these?"
You say nothing. He sifts through the brunoise, picking out any irregular pieces.
"And this. It's not very uniform, is it? That took you over 2 minutes. The extern does it faster than you."
He steps in closer to you.
"This was a fucking onion. You talk a big game for a guy that barely brunoise."

A cook that works dinner service is a different animal than the am prep cook. PM cooks have more moves and a different energy level...but what about their skill set? An am cook typically handles the bulk of the evenings prep work...while holding down a lunch station. They braise your proteins, roast your veg, and generally make sure things are nice and tidy for when you step onto the station. They receive none of the praise of the dinner cook...even though the PM shift is essentially just heating things up. The pm shift can bang out hundreds of covers, but can they actually cook?

Working at night, you risk becoming a line monkey. Your entire service is spent in the haze of an adrenaline rush, constantly dipping and diving, just trying to keep things moving. It's easy to become lost in this...to start to feel like you're progressing. But is your skill set diminishing? Have you stuck with the basics? When you think about it, cooking a dinner service sometimes involves very little actual cooking. You might be a hardcore sautee cook, or a creative genius when it comes to your menu...but when was the last time you made pasta, from start to finish? Have you ever worked a prep shift? Are you relying on someone else to do the bulk of your work? Do you deserve to be called a "linecook?"

notes:

ty-flo? that sounds like a bathroom problem. -eddie lau (hotfoodporn)
if you were to cook as fast and hard as you could--like the deepest weeds you had ever been in--how long could you sustain that pace?
Not so many people comment anymore. Nowadays it's all about the twitter replies on my posts.
Eddie Dick used to be such a nice boy before he started working at Nopa.
why do all hapa guys have the same haircut?

quotes and conversations.

"The thing I like about Project Runway is that it's a developmental experience."
-Eddie. Likes Project Runway.

Merrell walks in with two guys.
"That better be your brother Mer-Mer or you're gonna be in trouble."
-Camaal. Protective.

Me: OK, add an osso bucco.
Eddie: OK. Two pork, two pasta, one fish.
Me: No. Two pork, fish, pasta, osso bucco.
Eddie: OK.
Me: Did I say pasta?
Eddie: I think so.
Me:...
Eddie: OK, so two pork, one osso, one fish, one pasta.
Me: No asshole! Two pastas!

Me: Pick up galactic. Light speed to the window. Faster than twelve parsecs.
Maritess: What?
Me: You know. Twelve parsecs. The Kessel Run. Fast enough for you old man?
Maritess: What is that?
Me: Star Wars dude!
Maritess: Which movie?
Me: A New Hope! When Obi Wan Kenobi meets Han Solo in the cantina? Obi Wan asks if the Millenium Falcon is fast, and Han Solo says it made the Kessel Run in less than twelve parsecs, fast enough for you old man?
Maritess:...
Me: Bullseyeing wamp rats in my T-16 back home?
Maritess:...(laughs)
Me: Arrgh.

"Ill tell you what though. C&C Music Factory had some kick ass music video's."
-Ponder. Likes early 90's music videos.

Me: Eddie, if my dick were made of cheerios, would you pour milk all over it and eat it with a spoon?
Eddie: Are strawberries involved?
Me: Absolutely.
Eddie. Then yes.

Me: 38% said yes, 22% were undecided, and 40% said no.
Goose: What about the other 10%?
Me: 38 plus 22 is 60.
Goose: You see? I didn't do that good in school.
Me: Well in school.

"If I have my dick punched through with a metal rod, i'm not gonna make it into work."
-Eddie. Getting pierced.

Me: Eddie, wanna get a tattoo?
Eddie: No.
Camaal: A butterfly on your ass?

Goose: Hey dude, can I sing?
Me: No.
Goose: Can I sing R. Kelly?
Me: No. I will fucking stab you.
Eddie: Whatta you got against a little bump and grind?

Me: You wanna be my agent? I'll give you 2% of whatever I get.
Corey: Word. I'll do that shit for free.
Me: O.K. You're doing it for free. It's a deal.
Corey: No dude! 2%! I need to buy baby shoes.

Me: You see Maritess, I spent extra time this week making hypertext links so everything would be extra relevant, and I dont think anyone clicked on them.
Maritess: I did! I clicked on all of them!
Me: Even shark vagina?
Maritess: Yes!
Eddie: I didn't click on shark vagina. I was there.

Me: Right Gerardo? Mer-mer should just bone down nasty style and get it over with.
Gerardo: I like to use the word raunchy.

from top: paris, i heart dc, saba glazed cipollini, beautiful black cod, snickers, tattoo, sardines, construction, divis couture, look closely

Podcast 2.4 - Tablehopper. Marcia Gagliardi

2009-10-14T10:06:00.001-07:00

The best podcasts we do are the ones where almost nothing is planned, everyone loses track of time, and the conversation flows the whole time. This is certainly one of those podcasts. Marcia Gagliardi, (who writes Tablehopper) was our guest this time around. Also at the table was Eddie Lau (of Hot Food Porn) and Corey Nead. Marcia spoiled us with cheese, sparkling wine, and manhattans...and mixed the drinks out of her very awesome vintage executair traveling bar.

intro music is Award Tour by A Tribe Called Quest

1:27 - Smallpenises.com
8:18 - An unusual amount of time spent on love parade
9:54 - Do you think we could?
12:20 - What's your favorite place to drink a Manhattan?
14:23 - Inspiration from the internet?
22:18 - Bustling.
23:00 - What food media do ya'll consume?
27:32 - Chefs who go the TV route.
29:50 - What's your path Richie?
33:12 - Corey's path.
34:28 - Eddie's path.
36:06 - Is that like my ass?
41:28 - Top 3 cookbooks.
1:02:00 - The female chef thing.

The end of the culinary world as you know it.

2009-10-06T11:46:00.001-07:00

The world is ending. Restaurants are closing, chefs are without jobs, and Gourmet will soon be no more. The food world at large is being dominated by a handful of cooking based reality shows and a million terrible recipe and food blogs. Trends are turning over so quickly that even your Mom has a calcium chloride/sodium alginate set up, right next to her bread maker and pizza stone. Things have regressed so far that opening a restaurant seems like suicide. Let's just open a quesadilla food cart instead!

Well, I say bullshit to all this doom and gloom. You realize what's about to happen, right? You can see what's around to corner, can't you?

Here, in San Francisco, there is a group of chefs that are rightly considered to be at the top of their game. They're all in the same age group, they all came up paying their dues, and they're all brilliant at their craft. They're who you want to work for in this town. When you see them get together, it's like a meeting of the illuminati. They are the chefs that will be cited as the dominant influences for the next generation. And that next generation is about to come into its own. Right now we are standing on the edge of a whole new era of chefs. Young cooks, that came up through less traditional avenues than our predecessors. Cooks that are embracing traditional and boundry pushing techniques--often on the same plate. It's happening already. Chefs like Charlie Kleinman, Ryan Farr, Brandon Jew, Thomas McNaughton, Chad Newton, Ian Begg, Justin Simoneaux, James Syhabout, Ron Pei and Luis Villavilazquez are all young, driven, and quickly making a name for themselves citywide. And beyond the traditional kitchen format there are chefs like Anthony Myint and Josh Skenes that aren't just cooking good food, but are challenging the idea of what a restaurant is in the first place. Add in a crop of hungry and talented sous chefs (Brett Cooper of Coi, Alejandro Rodriguez of Nopa) and I just cant see how an eater wouldn't be foaming at the mouth for what's coming.

Think about it like this: No era of chefs has ever had access to the quality and variety of farm fresh ingredients that this group does. No era of chefs is as closely tied to organics and sustainability. No era of chefs has had their worlds brought closer by means of the internet and social networking like this group does. And no era of chefs has had such a rabid audience for the next big thing, and the next big chef. And come to think of it, few eras of chefs care as little about celebrity as this group does. It's an interesting dynamic; cooks that have seen the cost of selling out, television, and cooking for awards and not for guests. These next chefs run their kitchens with humility and dignity, and they don't forget the whole point--that cooking is just food, and its supposed to be fun.

I think the most exciting thing is to look forward. 5 years, 10 years, 15 years...where is this new class of chefs going to lead the San Francisco culinary scene? What will be their impact on the next group of cooks coming up under them? Who is going to end up running a 4 star kitchen...and who is going to open a quiet neighborhood spot? The culinary world is not ending. The future is bright, and we all get to be a part of it.

notes:

well, it reads well. this is where my boy matt wang works.
matt also sent us this. we were supposed to podcast about it. kinda forgot...but its interesting.
whoever is searching all that creepy shit on my flickr account needs to cut it out.
raw denim. do not wash for months. really?
let's get one of these.
write food criticism, and you're more likely to run out of interesting things to blog about
eater national. $25 to close your blog. discuss.

quotes and conversations.

"I love you Mer-mer. I'm going to make you the happiest woman in the world."
-Camaal

Me: We're on orange alert?
Nick: Yeah.
Me: Yeah dude! That's my favorite alert! It's one alert away from code red.
Dega: Which one is Amber alert.
Me: Amber alert is a kidnapped child.

A tall, cute girl walks by.
Camaal: Why not.
Paulie: Because she's twice your size?
Camaal: So? Danny is twice my size.
Paulie: ?....

Goose: Never suck dick for crack.
Me: That's good advice.
Ponder. I have par cooked risotto stuck in my teeth.
Me: I don't even think we're listening to each other anymore.

Eddie: Why did you tell an entire week in October to fuck off?
(3 hours pass)
Goose: Hey dude, I just wanted you to know that when you told this week to fuck off, you put it for next month.
Me: Yeah, that's part of this week sucking.

Me: I don't think you can base an entire film on an unlikeable character.
Amy: But it's been done.
Me: Yeah, in the Phantom Menace with that little kid.
Corey: I got your phantom menace right here.

Amy: When you told Brooke about millennial values, did you use your nerd voice?
Me: No, I used my CNN voice, pented my fingers, and used air quotes.
Amy: Nice.

Rachel: You should get Corey to run with you.
Me: I don't think that's gonna happen. Corey's gotta stop eating melted brie on triscuits first.
Corey: It's baguette ends. Triscuits are for sliced cheddar.

Merrell is plating, and she's short on a set.
Eddie: Did I fuck you?
Merrell: Don't say that Eddie. It's weird.

Me: Fire two families.
Goose: Hey dude, there better not be more than six families left cuz I ain't got more than that. So if they're tryin' to get me, they're gonna be out of luck cuz I only prepped for..
Me: FIRETWOFAMILIES!!!!
Goose: Yes.

Me: What about you Goose? Would you pay to see nude pictures of me on the internet?
Goose: Well, I guess if you were tryin to raise money or something.

Eddie: Guess what I made yesterday? Fish and chips. Only I didn't have potatoes, so I made onion rings instead.
Me: Wow, that's extra un-healthy.
Eddie: And that was for breakfast!

Eddie: I'm going to Sonoma at the end of the month. The Rancho Gordo outlet store is there, and they have t-shirts. I'm gonnna get one.
Me: That's very geeky of you.
Eddie: I like beans. They're delicious, and economical...
Me: You're still talking about beans.

Corey: Mer-mer, your balls taste good in my mouth.
Merrell: Thanks Corey.
Me: Weird, Matty told her the same thing last night.

Me: OK Gerardo. If you could bone down with a really hot girl, but she had a robot vagina, would you do it?
Gerardo: I don't know what that would feel like.
Ponder: Trick question! That would be the end of the world. That's cylon vagina.
Me: OK. Same question, but this time it's shark vagina.
Gerardo:...
Eddie: Trick question! Sharks don't have vaginas!
Gerardo:...

from top: dega's text, cipollini eyes, burnt bacon, corey and goose, superglue, baby snails, you touch your dick, a brand new vitaprep

Podcast 2.3 - Hot Food Porn meets Porn - Eddie vs Violet

2009-10-05T12:37:00.000-07:00

Well, i've never recorded a disclaimer for my podcast, but I suppose it was only a matter of time. This is certainly something different for us--a podcast centered around sex, and it's relation to food. There is little talk of restaurants, or professional cooking. But what you lose there you make up for in fun, interesting content. So dont be a prude. Give it a listen. Intro Music is I Was A Lover by TV On the Radio

2:42 – Handjobs. Enough said.

4:32 – Twitter questions

12:45 – What is a lifetime supply of KY?

16:22 – You are a pervert

22:54 – Hanky Codes

31:40 – March 14^th

41:22 – No titties?

46:45 – That’s gonna be an interesting dish.

58:00 – Eater National

A good sin?

2009-09-29T12:11:00.001-07:00

"You cannot humiliate the person who feels pride." -Cesar Chavez
"In general, pride is at the bottom of all great mistakes." -John Ruskin
"The truly proud man knows neither superiors nor inferiors. The first he does not admit of; the last he does not concern himself about." -William Hazlitt
"Vanity and pride are different things, though the words are often used synonymously. A person may be proud without being vain. Pride relates more to our opinion of ourselves; vanity, to what we would have others think of us." -Jane Austen
"There is this paradox in pride; it makes some men ridiculous, but prevents others from becoming so." -Charles Caleb Colton
"Pride comes before a fall." -Proverbs

The last five minutes of a thirty plate pickup on a busy night happen in a time warp. The momentum of four or five different stations slowly building together into an all out sprint while everyone rushes to plate, garnish, and clean plates before they head to the pass is one of the most dangerously beautiful things you could ever see. It's where finesse shows it's true face; elegant swipes of sauce, and garnishes placed like they were made of the most delicate material on earth. An efficient cook will take an extra moment right before the plate goes up to give the plate a quarter turn, adjust their gaze, then say goodbye forever. It's a picture of impermanence. Make it beautiful, wipe it clean, send it on its way. Until this happens:

Randy is on hot apps, and is behind on the pickup. He blasts his soup, scorching the bottom a bit, and when he goes to plate, the soup splatters and hisses on the edge of the pot. His plates end up with spots all over them, and he forgets to wipe his fingers off, leaving little fingerprints everywhere. The plates come back to be cleaned, and at the end of it all Randy is left getting shredded by the Chef de Cuisine as he stares at the floor.

"Are you giving up? It seems like you're just giving up. If you don't care anymore just tell me."
"I still care chef."
"Because seriously, I can get someone else. That was fucked."
"No chef, I can do it."
"Look, just care more. Take a little pride you motherfucker."

Pride. It's complicated. A cook that takes pride in their work will put out food that's elegant and delicious. They take the extra time to do things correctly the first time. They taste, and obsess, and relish in the glow of a happy guest. Every now and then, amidst the scowls and glares, you'll see a brief, soft smile flash across their face. You might not realize it, but they're enjoying themselves. Ego has almost nothing to do with their cooking. Instead you get a perfect blend of confidence tempered by humility. They respect tradition, and their fellow cooks. The idea of failing is almost as scary as getting into a fight for the first time. So they ball up their fists, puff out their chests, and go in swinging.

A cook that's prideful is a different thing altogether. They spend all their time in past (the last place I worked did this blahblah) or in the future (when I have my own place im gonna go in the dining room and tell the guest to fuck off!) and little to no time in the actual moment. A prideful cook feels a sense of entitlement, and believes they are the standard bearer when it comes to sanitation, mise, and life in general. They believe that they should be sous chef, or chef de cuisine, and will do anything to undermine those above them. They have a hard time believing that they could have made a mistake. (but I made it, how could it be wrong?) When things get busy an aura of hatred surrounds them. Care and love go out the window--if it was even there to begin with. At the end of service, theirs is the loudest voice; quick to point others failures and their own triumphs. In their own mind they are the image of what a cook should be. And this is just the tip of where the problems lie.

Throughout your career you're going to work with an unusual cross section of people. Social deviants, trust fund kids, and registered green party voters. Pride won't come easily to all of them. There will be too many distractions and pressures for them to focus in and just cook. They will forget why they got into restaurant life in the first place--if the even knew in the first place at all. In time, as they find their place in the kitchen, and their own style, pride will start to show its face. And as long as this person's goals stay in place, and their successes are coupled with humbling failure, there will be a beautiful, natural balance. And there is no other way.

notes:

how did i miss my homie writing up our bbq?
oh come on now. thanks for bringing on trouble.
Jesse came into Nopa and wrote about it here. he's also putting on notoberfest with Ryan Farr on October 10th.
have you seen Violet's URL shortener?
8 pages in, and my moleskin is falling apart
that sound you heard this afternoon was brett favre breaking my damn heart
really chef2chef? top 100 food blogs? does this site even count as a food blog anymore?
hm.
thank you interpol, avett brothers, and tv on the radio for getting me where I needed to go this week

quotes and conversations. extended sexy tv pop culture science fiction folsom street fair edition.

"Never trust a cook that wear cologne."
-Corey. Prefers a natural musk.

Ponder: Fuckin' Stand By Me. Makes me cry every time.
Me: You are the corniest tattooed punk guy I know.
Ponder: His boy gets stabbed in the throat and dies.
Me, to Merrell: Will you dab that up for him?
(Long pause)
Merrell: Oh. Did you mean his vagina?

Gerardo: I was trying to be gentile.
Me: Gerardo, gentile and gentle are not the same thing.

"Usually you give me four more inches and I don't have to bend over as much."
-Ponder. Likes a taller prep table and cutting board.

Me: So there's this show called Moonlighting. And it starred Bruce Willis and Cybil Shepard. They ran a detective agency, and got into adventures, and it was great because they never slept together. It was just platonic with this sexual tension. Until the third season where they fucked it all up. So why am I telling you this? Because sometimes its better to have the platonic friendship. Sometimes it's better not to sleep with the girl. Got it?
Camaal: (Nods)
Me: Paulie, you catch all that?
Paulie: Bruce Willis with hair?
(45 Minutes pass)
Me: It's like Scully and Mulder on the X-Files.
Camaal: Si, claro.

Eddie: Dude, you didn't tell me boning down with 400 people would hurt so much.
Me: Well have you ever boned down two times in a row? It hurts.
Goose: Yeah, but sometimes you just gotta push through.

Me: It's like Bosom Buddies. Only you guys hate each other. But im not sure who's Tom Hanks, and who's the other guy.
Corey: Peter Scolari. Don't ask me how I knew that.

Merrell: I just don't like that they think they can act any way they want because they're pretty.
Me: But look at Ponder.
Goose: Look at me!
Ponder: I'm not sure if we just made our point or lost the argument.

Me: Don't you feel like you have more energy now that you're eating better?
Merrell: About the same.
Me: Don't you feel like you have more energy now that you're drinking less?
Merrell: I'm not really drinking less.

"What kind of dom are you? You're not into leather??"
-Eddie. A good leather loving dom.

Eddie: Next time I want to see you pound that cheese like you fuckin' mean it.
Me: Who's being the dom now?
Eddie: Tables are turned huh?
Me: Yeah. I will slap you right in the face.
Eddie: On my giant chin.

Me: Did you just say sci-fi fantasies?
Eddie: Yeah, sci-fi.
Me: Well, I did write that erotic fan fiction centered around Princess Leia's copper bikini.
Eddie: Did you really?
Me: Yes. That's what I did yesterday.
Eddie: Well? You are a writer...
Me: Go cut a flatbread you whore.

Ponder: Where's Stevie Wonder? I don't wanna get caught staring.
Me: Dude, he's blind.
Ponder: I know he's blind!!

"You're looking a little yellow. No, not racially."
-Merrell. Racially sensitive.

from top: eddie's 28th, sauerkraut, alinea style, merrell's dumb ass nachos, menu writing, black cod, dinner, family menu, safe word, pray 4 dylan

Moderation.

2009-09-21T12:14:00.001-07:00

I used to love it. Getting off work after a busy night, salt still sticking to my forearms, I would head to the bar with my crew. Once there we quickly put away a shot and a beer, and another, and another. Then Kevin, the server that had almost 2k in sales (half coming in wine) would show up, start buying rounds, and the night would melt into oblivion. Sometime around 3:30 I would find myself stumbling out of a dingy cooks apartment, wondering how to get home without killing myself. The next day we would all wake up in absolute pain, head into work, and sweat it out on the stoves with few laughs between us. There was a pattern to it, and we rarely strayed from it. It was our right. We were cooks.

The thing is that once you get into the cooks lifestyle: the heat, the stress, the camaraderie, and the eventual reward at the end of it all...it becomes hard to let go of. It starts to become less about a reward for yourselves at the end of the night and more about your nightly plans. Everyone's sharpness becomes just a little more dull...but you tell yourself that its ok. The team is stronger now...closer. Isn't it?

Eventually, things start to fray. Your grill guy, who already has a nasty habit of a liter of Pepsi and blunt to the head in the parking lot before work starts making frequent trips to bathroom during service. His eyes are alert, but his jaw and edgy demeanor tell a different tale. The food runner that cant remember table numbers was up until 5am with him doing coke, and they're both starting to make your evening very difficult. Manuel, your fastest sautee cook has started asking for booze mid shift to quell his hangover, and by the end of the night everyone has had a sip. Two months later you're dumber, slower, and fat. But fuck it, because you're a real cook, right?

But here's the rub. There are a lot of cooks out there that are smarter, more talented, and far more driven. And they didnt stay up until 5am last night doing coke. They don't drink on their shift. They are so singularly motivated to be the best, to move up, and move on that with every hangover you get, they're leaving you behind. Think about the crew at Alinea, or Laundry. How can there be room for the fog of a big night out when you have a 15 hour day and the standard of perfection weighing on you?

By nature we are indulgent people. Our jobs center around taking care of others. We're surrounded by great food, lots of wine and booze, and like minded folks that got into this job because the monotony of a nine to five was never a viable option. Cooks that think they're just doing whats expected are at best, a cliche. At their worst, theyre alcoholics, or drugs addicts. There is such a great deal of discipline in our work. Why isn't that carrying over into our free time?

It's important to find a balance. It's important to not take yourself too seriously, and not let the pressures of the job cave you in. I think it's also important to remember that at the end of the day there is a greater responsibility to your craft. It's not just about the daily drudgery--there has to be a bigger goal. Life isn't just decaying slowly.

"All things in moderation, including moderation."

— Mark Twain

notes:

there was talk this week of mongoose on all fours, wearing a leash and collar, being held by ponder.
no, there was no writing in blood on my mirror. but thank you for your concern.
oh snap.
who knew that pork bones are so hard to come by?
congratulations to Ryan Farr and Cessaly on the birth of their new baby boy!
im down for composting, but this little green bin the city gave me just isn't cutting it

quotes and conversations.

I'm pouring molasses into a pot.
Me: Black tar heroin...
Goose: I smoke that stuff in rehab one time.
Me: Goose, rehab isn't for smoking black tar heroin! It's for picking up on vulnerable women!

"Abuelita. I like Grandmas."
-Camaal

Corey: Hey dude, if I were single would you bone down with me?
Me: No. (long pause) If I were single would you bone down with me?
Corey: Hell yeah dude.
Me: I thought so. Sorry about that.

Me: What color is that guys fixie?
Dega: He doesn't ride a fixie. Didn't you see how fat he is?

Goose: Who got the plastic wrap?
Merrell: Yo mama.
Goose: My mama didn't use plastic wrap. That's how I came to be.

"I not that beautiful, I not that handsome. But I am fucking chingon."
-Camaal.

"I guess for some people it would feel good to hold someone's cock, but for me it would be really, really strange."
-Mongoose.

from top: soba, moleskins, farms up/hoes down?, figs and walnuts, snails in the spinach, they match, pappardelle, vongole, jellyfish, sloppy joe on bread, ramen stock, family meal showdown, ramen, noodles, a clean kitchen

Podcast 2.2 - Just the Two of Us.

2009-09-20T11:38:00.001-07:00

Here's a change. Instead of last season's multi-guest podcasts, this time around it was just Amy and I. We've only done two other podcasts like this (with Corey and Speez) but they have a nice feel to them. Topics this time around were changes in kitchen dynamics when cooks and chefs leave, cooking for self vs cooking for the guest, chef cliches, and many twitter questions answered.

3:35 - Calling Corey
6:00 - An email/Changes in the kitchen
15:39 - That question I asked you earlier.../Cooking for self
21:08 - Look at all the people on the Twitters
23:03 - Chef cliches
32:55 - OUR twitter friends?

No podcast next week, but we'll be back the first week in October.

Opening song: Robots In the Garden by Autolux

Perfect?

2009-09-12T21:37:00.000-07:00

Question of the week: Is there such a thing as a "perfect" dish? Have you eaten one? Have you cooked one? What was it?
libertyhuang@linecook My Uncle Jerry's braised pork belly is my fav dish ever.
Gingerthegirl@linecook I could wax all poetic on a lot of dishes I've had, but I what know is this: the hungrier I am, the more "perfect" a dish tastes.
shepdave@linecook no such thing as a "perfect" dish. 4 me every dish is an evolution 2wards the best possible dish. that said:sushi@tsukiji =perfect
JessPav@linecook There's no such thing as a perfect dish. Just like there's no such thing as a perfect poem. It can always be improved on.
RFaucette@linecook yes I think you can make a "perfect" dish. It may only be perfect to you though. I don't think it can be perfect for everyone.
rupski23@linecook I think perfect meals can be acheived more often than we think. Often, it's a question of being perfect for that moment
sfmongoose@linecook yaaaaa........... my calamari dishes hahaha
Pav1ov@linecook I got brain lock thinking of an answer! Ass kickin question. Simply put, the answers are all no. But it's something we are all ...
hollowspring@linecook The best is wild strawberries just picked from the plant.
MatthewSievert@linecook I feel good when I execute good food for others. Obtaining perfection or eating perfection can be a curse and a goal.
CNrecords@linecook the perfect dish after surfing is either; a) smoked fish sandwich w/ tomato and cold drink or b) burger and a cold drink.
HeatherHAL@linecook I think perfection lies in the simple things, like a roasted chicken. I'm getting there!
dianasaurusrex@linecook I think a great BLT w/avocado can be the perfect food. I had a sous vide lobster once @ The French Laundry that was perfection!
tablehopper perfect dishes: the watermelon pickle/pork belly number at fatty crab, and the cha ca la vong version at betelnut haunts me.

I've only experienced it a handful of times in my life--about the same amount of times that i've been in love, gotten into fistfights, or felt rock bottom misery. The times when it's shown itself were quiet, almost terrifying. In the heat of service, going a million miles an hour, you stand up from being crouched over your plating. Looking down, you're not sure whats going on right away. You turn the plate to the right, then to the left. Then it dawns on you: the plating composition is perfect. Every element is resting perfectly. This becomes your model for the rest of the night. At the end of service you cook the dish for yourself, and call over all of the other cooks. There are mutters of "fuckin nice plates dude" and "you frills motherfucker, look at this thing." As you all dig in, everyone goes silent. Your grill guy breaks the silence.
"That's a bad ass dish. Everything works. It's just...."
"Perfect."
It's the kind of dish that you never get bored of cooking, or eating. After a few weeks of running it, you decide to take it off the menu--if only to give your guests something else...and then they start demanding that you bring it back. In an attempt to re-capture the magic of that plate, you push and stress and obsess. Mostly all you end up creating are poor amalgams of the original...until, if you're lucky (or insanely talented) you find your way back to something truly beautiful.

It's something that ive wondered about for a while. How does one attain perfection? For the longest time I was convinced that I wanted a 4 star restaurant. A place to make an attempt at being perfect every night. But lately i've felt like perfection has more to do with the people cooking and eating, and less to do with the people talking about it. Cant perfection be found in a taco, or a bowl of pasta? Isn't a fresh sand dab, or a warm pizza fresh out of the oven perfect in its own right? Have you had Tom McNaughton's cappelletti with crescenza, corn, and truffles? It's perfect. Have you had Daniel Patterson's "Earth and Sea" dish? Perfect. Have you had Oysters and Pearls at Luandry? Yes...its perfect. Shit, even Ryan Farr's zilladog flirts with perfection. Im inclined to think that perfection has less to do with composure and ingredient, and more to do with focus, commitment, and love.

Ruhlman wrote extensively about perfection in The Soul of a Chef. There's that quote from Thomas Keller about attaining it...how when you reach it, it becomes something else. Most chefs will tell you that it doesn't exist. Im inclined to disagree. You see, what really matters is that a dish is perfect to you. Even if you're the salad guy at The Olive Garden. If you can find beauty...harmony...and peace on the plate, then what others say doesnt mean shit. For years ive told my cooks that I didnt care if they were perfect--I only wanted them to try to be perfect. Now I can see just how much I meant that. At the end of the day, what's really important in your kitchen? Are you cooking for critics? Are you worried about yelpers? Or are you doing it from within? Are you doing it out of love? Are you doing it because you cant see doing anything else?

notes:

buzz aldrin and buzz lightyear. not the same.
maritess loves it when I wear v-neck t-shirts
broccoli di cicco and a soft boiled egg = the perfect mid shift snack
go buy the morning benders ep. right now.
podcasts are back next week!
only eating vegetables for dinner doesn't seem so crazy anymore
i get the feeling im going to have a lot of news for you guys in the following months
more thunder and lightning please. just not striking nick and janessa's house.
the twitter bbq was great...met new folks, saw old friends, drank a wide variety of booze, and passed around an enormous bottle of sparkling wine. thanks to everyone that came out--it was a fun day. Again next year? Re-caps are here (boobs4food) and here (lickmyspoon)

quotes and conversations.

"You wanna see my bare minimum? I'll show you my sugar lumps too."
-Corey. Wants to share.

Dega: New rule. If you call me Dega, you have to say "Degaba."
Me: Why, do you have swampy pants?
(that's a star wars jokes for the uninitiated)

Me: Did you know that if you plant a lobster in the ground you can grow lobster mushrooms?
Eddie: That's gross.
Merrell: That's not true. Is it?

"You should be pounding Gatorade right now. Or something."
-Dega.

"Coyotes saved his life."
-Camaal. Has a hilarious story about Gerardo being raised by coyotes.

Me: Gerardo, come massage Ponder's ass.
Gerardo: Deep tissue?

Me: How about a nice garden salad, or some whole grains?
Corey: I had a green salad for dinner last night. (pause) I lied. I had pizza and melted brie on crostini.

Me: Dega, I see you returned to the look.
Dega: What? What did you say?
Me: I said you're a stupid hipster and I hate your guts.
Dega: I hate you even more!

"Hey dude. I pooped on my pen."
-Corey. He really did poop on his pen.

Me: We should grate it on a sharkskin.
Al: I have one of those at home. I have a whole shark!

"If you wear an Ed Hardy shirt, that's a deal breaker."
-Mongoose. And he's right.

from top: figs, roasting, apples, fruit, snoopy, oakland, 4505 dogs, stay up late, dega, eddie, serg, kate, luis, anne, matt, ryan, joey, brandon, corey, the scene, cupcakes, porchetta, lengua, @coreynead

New York

2009-08-31T12:15:00.001-07:00

I'm standing outside of a bar on my last night in New York, smoking a cigarette, while Ginger sways from the effects of many shots of rye and beers. It's hot as hell, even at 3am. Manhattan is quiet. Behind all of screech of sparking subway tracks underfoot, and the honks of a thousand cabs, it's peaceful. We talk, and reminisce. I feel like i'm home.

My week leading up to the trip to New York was an amazing one. I gathered all of the places here in San Francisco that I hadn't had the time to see, and built an itinerary. There were trips to Kitchenette, Muir Woods, MOMA to see Avedon, Il Cane Rosso, Thursday Farmers Market, Rickhouse, Coffee Bar, Foreign Cinema for brunch, Yerba Buena Gardens with my nephews, and Heaven's Dog. Ginger was out for her brothers wedding (which was fun and beautiful) and in a way we shared a dual vacation. If I had only had that one week to relax, it would've been enough...but New York was looming on the horizon. And in a way it was making me nervous as hell.

Flying into New York on a red-eye, I couldn't sleep at all. I typed this out on my phone:
Strange melancholy feeling going to ny. Mostly broke. It's been 6 years. We have a nice plane, and a trendy hotel to stay in. San Francisco is rooted deeply in me, and that's hard to let go of.
We're on a redeye. I can't sleep.
Usually on a trip like this I feel like I have a lot of thinking to do, and this trip is no exception.
Starting yesterday I had that restless out of the kitchen feeling that I get. Imagine anxiety coupled with deep paranoia and guilt. It's fucked and it sounds psychotic. Maybe it is. I should feel lucky. There are friends to see. I've been given countless lists of places to go to from people I like and respect.
Over drinks today a friend tried to talk me into finally going it on my own. I have a family to think about, and that's making me sway both ways. I need to take the next step... I also need security and job stability, which I have at Nopa.
Being here makes me feel older, but still somehow connected back to my youth. I've been here so many times.

It all sounds so over-dramatic, and maybe it was. But stepping off that plane into the 100% humidity, all I could think about was how tight money was, and what a strange and pivotal point in my life I was coming up on. I wasn't even sure that I would be able to enjoy myself. I felt thin from too little sleep and the bright morning sun. For those first few hours in New York, it didn't really feel like vacation.

Our hotel did well to lessen the weight of my stress though. We got hooked up with a nice room in the brand new Standard Hotel, courtesy of Matt Wang. (thanks Matt!) After some rest we met up with Ginger, ate lunch at Barbuto, and walked the highline. Ginger showed us around, and that night we ate at Freemans's, where her boyfriend is the chef. Decompression complete, begin vacation.

In the following days we made our ways to Porchetta, Abraco, Third Rail, Momofuku Ssam, Ippudo, 5 Points, and Pastis, with a lot of pizza and drinks in between. I ran into SF transplant Nate Appleman, and the sous from Perbacco...further proving that the world is very, very small. Running around town felt easy...city blocks became familiar...and the ease of being able to call Ginger and meet up was...amazing. On our last night, romping around the lower east side, I could feel New York getting its claws into me. Or maybe it was just the booze.

Being is New York has always felt good to me. It doesn't scare me, or intimidate me. If anything that town leaves me feeling energetic--like im stuck in a pack of people running at full speed. Keep up or get trampled and left behind. Being out on the street can feels like being in the kitchen. It's beautiful. Despite a nagging feeling the first day that I was "cheating" on San Francisco, I came to appreciate New York for what it is. And through that, I started to miss SF. Waking up on our last day, with a hangover that made me want to drown myself in the fountain at Washington Square Park, I said a quiet goodbye to the city. This was the note I typed on the way home.

We're flying back, and last night was so excessive that I spent all day paying for it. The hot new York sun beat on me all day. I tried to drink coffee and ended up puking in a bar instead.
Ginger sent me a text last night that said her knowing that I wouldn't be in ny when she got back was heart wrenching. I knew exactly what she meant.
There are opportunities in ny. The city is amazing, and I love it deeply. I almost forgot what it was like to live in sf for a week. It would be a place to make a mark. A place to take the next step. It would also mean transplanting my wife to one of the most unforgiving places on earth. It would mean leaving behind friends and family. I just don't know if I can be that selfish.

notes:

this saturday is our barbeque in golden gate park. pot luck style, super casual...email us for details. Tweetyparkparty@gmail.com
I dunno, I like the SF heat.
I've said it before, but lets go again: Flour & Water = one of the best restaurants in SF
Ingrid's trip to SF
That well done burger? Yeah, it's not gonna be done right away.
That was a long blogging break. Time to get back on track.

quotes and conversations.

Rachel: Please wear pants.
Corey: If I ever have a restaurant, it's going to be jacket and tie required. Pants optional.

"Did I ever tell you about my cellmate? He had marbles in his dick."
-Mongoose.

"Did she really say i'm a bad twitterrer?"
-Corey. A bad twitterrer.

"You were in my dream last night, trying to keep me from hooking up with skanky tortas."
-Ponder.

Camaal: Hey rosita. Una joto pan para pollo.
Mongoose: (Blank stare)
Me: A hotel pan. Not a joto pan.
Camaal: I cannot speaking well.

Me: Maritess, you ok?
Maritess: Yeah.
Me: You want Ponder to take off his shirt?
Maritess: Not yet.
Camaal: Woooooowwwww.
Paulie: Ponder's doing a second show?

"Khaki pants are for young guys that think they're gang members."
-Mongoose.

Me, to Camaal: He's a magician, just like you.
Camaal: (Laughs)
Ponder: He'll pull your dick out of your pants.

Me: Name a country that starts with the letter D.
Mongoose: Delaware!
Me: Delaware is a state.
Mongoose: Ooooohhhhh.

Camaal: I needing little yems.
Mongoose: (Blank stare)
Me: Little gems.
Mongoose: I thought he said lil' jimmy's...like he needed a finger condom.

Me: What's a fortnight?
Corey: I dunno. Four or five nights? The night before? A month and a half?
Amy: I like fart night better.

Me: Gerardo, what are you like when you're drunk?
Gerardo: What do I like?
Me: No, what are you like.
Gerardo: Oh! Totally different questions!

from top: ponder and corey, brunch, cooking with joey, kitchenette, ponder and speez, rickhouse, produce, steak, andrew and katies wedding, flying, dont look down, a toilet, ginger and preston, gibraltar, ramen, sky, manhattan, pat, the view

Podcast Season 2, Episode 1

2009-08-08T22:00:00.000-07:00

Ah yes, the start of our "second season" of podcasts. Our schedule is going to be a little more erratic this time around, but I also think everything is going to go a little smoother now...better content, new guests, and more listener interaction.

Guests this time were Chad Hutchinson, who has worked at Gary Danko, Town Hall, and sous'd with me at Pres A Vi. Ann Merrell also made her podcast debut. And of course, Corey and Amy were there too.

Topics were:
Pres A Vi - 6:30
A New Kind of Restaurant - 11:24
Street Food - 13:30
Everyone Loves Brandon Jew - 23:25
Declining Standards? - 25:14
What is Rustic? - 39:45
What did I Miss? - 46:36
Market Report! - 48:01

Intro music is The Truth by Handsome Boy Modeling School

The push.

2009-07-30T04:07:00.001-07:00

Everything hurts. Your hands creak. Your knee has a nasty kink in it, and when your boss asks you why you've been taking so much advil, you don't know how to respond. Your days off are spent under a fog of fatigue and trying to re-coop some sort of energy to push into the coming week. Things aren't breaking...yet. But after doing this for a while, you can see how things might end up shaking down.

You know the deal. Cooking professionally means to sacrifice. Everything. Your free time. Personal relationships. Daily habits. And at times, your sanity. But what about your health?

The rules say to work as much as you can. Hurt yourself. Push until you can't see straight. Take all the overtime you can get. Never, ever say no. And for the most part I agree with this ethos. But the truth is that cooks are for shit when it comes to taking care of themselves. Stand on your feet, running around for 12 hours a day, sweating through your shirt. Tear your body down...then reward it by filling it with beers, whiskey, burgers, and cigarettes. When was the last time you saw your grill guy eating a salad at the end of the shift? How many cokes does your fry guy suck down on a Friday? When was the last time you actually ate 3 normal meals in a day? Shit, when was the last time you exercised?

The whole "never trust a skinny chef" cliche is well known; what's not well known is the amount of energy and level of fitness needed to work on the hot line. Cooking professionally means being drive yourself to excess...the job demands it. Day after day, you will be surrounded by addicts and fiends...even if their only craving is a duck liver pate. There is little balance in the life of a cook, which makes no sense. Cooking is all about balance. It's about finding that place between punishing and rewarding yourself. Most cooks take the reward portion too far.

I don't want to preach about health, and taking care of yourself like i'm an expert on the matter--i'm not. But I think it's an important thing to consider. If you fatigue halfway through your shift, have you ever asked yourself why? Did you eat enough? Did you sleep at all? Are you on your third hangover this week? How many ways are you shooting yourself in the foot?

I like the cooking game. I want to stay in it...for a long time. Beyond that, I want to be there for my family....and moreover, I dont want to die before my time. I'm going to push, no matter what...but not without at least attempting to take care of myself. I'm a cook for life...but I refuse to become a sterotype of one. Fuck that. This is far too important.

notes.

adriene's trip to nopa
Merrell does not like being towel whipped in the face
if you live in SF, you should go check this out. their review is here
this is going to suck, isn't it?
agree or disagree, this is interesting
5 goals in 45 minutes is too many team USA
flour & water review
staging at nopa
a sure fire way to get the kitchen to hate you is to only buy beer for the one person you came to see
anytime eddie writes about beating someone up, swine whores, and corn dogs, it's probably going to be good

quotes and conversations.

"I was never a fat kid. A fat teenager maybe."
-Merrell.

"My personality's not dull. My knife might be."
-Maritess. Bubbly.

"Al can be El Guapo."
-Ponder. Likes the Three Amigos.

(There is a guest wearing a t-shirt that has an outline of the Great Lakes on it.)
Me: Tell me what's on that guys shirt, and i'll stop making fun of you.
Merrell: The Michigan rivers.
Me: What did...
Merrell: The Lake Michigans! I got it right!

Me: Ponder told me he loves me tonight. And I think he really meant it.
Speez: Yeah dude, he probably did. He says it all the time. I say "I love you" and he says "I love Richie."

"I heard slurping. I rolled over, and she was drinking coffee in bed. Drinking. Coffee. In. Bed. I almost strangled her."
-Ponder

"I hate ribs."
-Camaal.

Me: Paulie, get some duck fat. I want you to rub Mer-Mer down.
Paulie. Alight.

Me: Looks like a pigs foot.
Eddie: (Nods)
Merrell. What? Did you say it looks like a penis?

Eddie: I went to prom four times in high school. Because I had a tuxedo. I was in orchestra.
Me: And you boned down zero times.
Eddie. Yeah.

"After we boned down, i'd be like "Where's my BLT at bitch?"
-Ponder.

"I hate peaches."
-Camaal.

Me: Eddie, if I had to pick anyone in the kitchen to lose my virginity to, it would be you.
Eddie: Really!?

"I'd rather have sweaty boobs than sweaty balls."
-Merrell.

from top: chervil flowers, godzilla dog, death metal, meth deatal, halibut, rabbit, ladybug, line up, nardello peppers, hi!, cake, start of service

The Clash.

2009-07-19T12:09:00.001-07:00

Out of suffering have emerged the strongest souls; the most massive characters are seared with scars.
-Kahlil Gibran

This week's
question: What was/is the worst clash you've ever had with another
person in the kitchen? How did you resolve it? Who was it?

zellicious@linecook2late for ??? once a kinda violent grill cook threw a trashcan at me,i secretly cut hairs off his "fancy" pastry brush everyday
afwalsh@linecook I was a 17 y/o punkass with some lip, he was a chef with a bad temper. Got a black eye and now I only ever say 'oui chef'.
adoxograph@linecook road the bipolar express for a while. Jumped off that car.
fiend394@linecookanother cook was having a bad day. He decided to open hand slap me for putting 2 grains of salt on his food. Fistfight after work.
wolvesmouth@linecookbouchon in vegas, this culinary grad came in and thought she owned the place, we had a screaming match, she minced 20# shallots.
shunafish@linecook worst run-in. CDC. got physical. he: 300#, me: 100#. calmly told him to get his hands off me. chef fired him next day.
beerandnosh@linecookmy first day ever working in a kitchen - I was a busboy - a cook held a knife to my throat. He was later fired for being an addict
randomplacement@linecookanother cook, angry I was made sous, he had more experience. tried to sabatoage me, daily, I kept catching him. pulled him of line
abohemian@linecook Idiot chef trying to tell FOH how to do their jobs, when said chef was totally clueless about how to run FOH
fromhils@linecook,Strangely twas about cookies, w/ head chef @ Puck Cafe SCP, notice givn. Obvsly a camel-straw sit. Really abt creative freedom.

It's my last year at VDV, and everything is unraveling.
For a long time, things had been good. My brigade was almost bulletproof. The food was beautiful. Our guests were loyal, and it seemed like the restaurant was getting busier every night. My chef trusted me, and when talk of the new San Francisco restaurant came up he even mentioned the words "chef de cusine" to me. I was soaring.
To this day i'm still not sure what brought me out of contention for the spot--and the truth is that im glad I didnt get it. I wasn't prepared. But at the time, when my boss started receiving resumes from CDC candidates, I was seeing red. I felt humiliated. Betrayed. I knew the food, the ordering. The brigade trusted me. They stood behind me. Whoever was going to come in was facing an intense uphill battle. They would have to be a hard-core badass. They would have to be able to throw down, and work harder, faster, and cleaner than the entire brigade combined.

This would not end up being the case. My first warning came when I was handed a prep list for one of the chefs tastings. It was full of nightmare items; Chilean sea bass, every manner of out of season vegatable, and all of it written in barely legible, horribly spelled chicken scratch. I wasn't shy about passing the list around to stir shit up...and my chef knew this. When the tasting happened I wasn't just off, I was in Hawaii. Chilean sea bass guy was hired and working in the kitchen when I returned home.

He was a nightmare. There was some compassionate side of me that wanted to give him a shot, but his demeanor...the terribly homophobic and/or misogynistic things he would say...and a complete lack of skills on the line were tough to overlook. He was insulting, lazy, and mean. When I asked him about the chefs he had worked with, he called them all assholes. When I inquired about what he put in a dish he was making, his de-facto response was "good shit." When he trained on the expo, our kitchen would go down in flames. The only way we could survive a service was by reading all of our own tickets....orders whispered to each other, food magically appearing on the pass...only to get cold while he tried to figure out where he was sending it. It was just the beginning of a very dark period for the boys and I.

My life slowly became dominated by all of the negative shit that I felt about him. It was all I talked about. I was boiling inside. There were a few really big blow ups between us...one time in front of the entire staff. I pleaded with my chef. How could he not see that I could outclass this guy in every aspect of the job? What difference did his experience make if the guy was completely burned out? Didn't it matter that the kitchen was standing behind me? Days were filled with trying to clean up his messes; over ordering, allergy menus that were completely mis-marked, insulting everyone around him. I decided to quit. It was like someone I loved had cast me aside for a nazi/zombie/rapist. So I did what I always do when im freaking out. I called my Mom.

Mom wasn't happy that I was leaving my job, but she supported me either way. Then she said this:
"You know, if he's as bad as you say he is, he's going to end up weeding himself out. Just be patient, stick to yourself, keep doing your job, and see what happens."
So that's exactly what I did. I buckled down, and focused on the job. I stopped making about me and the CDC, and instead turned my attention the guest, and the wellness of the kitchen. I pushed forward, and only a couple of short weeks after the SF spot opened, CDC was gone. He had indeed weeded himself out with a toxic mix of sleeping in meetings, laziness, and temper. Damage had been done, but we were at least able to move forward for the first time in months.

Kitchen clashes happen. Cooking is too intense, and difficult, and adrenaline driven for them not to. Sometimes these clashes are valid. Most of the time though, they're over some petty shit that has little or no bearing on anything of actual value. And the truth is that life is too short to get upset over some bullshit. The truth is that you're probably too fucking smart, and talented, and mature to let yourself be drawn into the drama. The truth is that if someone is so ignorant, you're probably better off leaving them be and just focusing on what's really important. Life goes on. It has to. Don't let it creep in. You've got guests to cook for tonight.

notes:

Speez got this email at Nopalito:
Learn How Make Your Recent Press Last & Last & Last ........

Make your press in Northside SF on 5/1/2009 about "Rickie Nakano - the new-wave Bourdain" bring you real benefit. Easily and Inexpensively. Guaranteed!
What's up with folks that come in the restaurant and try to tell you how to cook your ingredients?
A Gordon Ramsey show is guaranteed to have three things: dumb people, yelling, and Ramsey taking his shirt off at some point
September 5th. Don't make plans.
This city has no good fish n chips

quotes and conversations:

"You know what she looks like? In that movie Bone Collecter...she looks like Snoop Dogg."
-Mongoose

"I watch a lot of Sponge Bob."
-Ponder

"I bet her vajeen looks like sleeve of wizard."
-Corey

"I kissed a goat yesterday. That didn't help either."
-Ponder

"You can never drink too much beer!"
-Merrell

Me: You guys know about the history of Bastille Day, right?
Paul: Oh, it is Bastille Day...
Merrell: Isn't it French New Year?
I pull out my notebook to write down her French New Year line...
Merrell: Please don't put that in the blog!
She grabs my pen and runs away...

"They look like they're bad boobs but with a good bra."
-Merrell

Me: Hey Justin? He's serious.
Justin: What?
Me: He shaves his balls.
Justin: I've done it before.
Goose: I just don't like havin' a rats nest down there....so that means you haven't been a hipster your whole life.
Justin: Yeah.............................wait, what'd you say?

from top: bloodhound with Ryan, Eddie, Jesse, and Corey; Maritess; Beers from Paulie; Mom and Baby; A crowded grill; Corey forgets shit all the time

Choices.

2009-07-12T00:19:00.001-07:00

"She's doing it again."

I'm not even sure what my grill cook is talking about until I look up from my prep list. And there it is; Mandy, most hated server is sitting in front of the line, counting her absurdly large stack of tips. All work in the kitchen has halted. My sautee cook menacingly flicks his chefs knife across his fingertips while the grill guy tries to figure out which ticket has Mandy's staff meal on it. The extern on pantry does his best to count how many twenties are in her stack of cash, and later, over beers, the conversation is dominated by talk of the inequality between FOH and BOH, how soulless waiting tables is, and what an utter bitch Mandy is. And after a few drinks, i'm inclinced to agree with them.

The next day i'll go into work, and go to the GM. I'll tell him about Mandy, and how pissed my cooks are, and how she can't ever, under any circumstances count her tips in front of them. I'll tell him how rude it is. How unfair this behavior is. And he'll tell me this:

"Your cooks? And you? You chose this. You chose to work in the kitchen. No one is forcing you to slave over those stoves. So if you want "equality" why don't you all become servers?"

And I realize that he's right.

For the next few weeks, what he said dominates my thoughts. I did choose this. There is no greater power guiding my hand. No one has handcuffed us to our stations. As we trudge through service, I start to notice things. Shortcuts being taken. Corners being cut. Cooks running low on mise, and trying to scrape by on the remnants of a filthy nine pan. And why? Was our choice to be mediocre? Wasn't there some modicum of integrity guiding us at some point? What happened to all that shit we talked about being the best?

A cook makes hundreds of choices a day. These choices are tied to the well being of the restaurant, their co-workers, and themselves. As the days go on, some cooks lose sight of what's right, and instead turn to what might be convenient, or popular, or even vindictive. They begin to feel a sense of entitlement. Every day becomes less about whats right, and more about whats easy. Suddenly everyone starts to feel like the kitchen might collapse in their absence. Things start to get ugly.

It's a hard talk to have, but helping a cook realize that the culinary world goes on without them sometimes has to happen. That gentle reminder that there's always a job at the local Macy's is sometimes what it takes to get them to re-focus. Cooking is a choice. It's making a decision to give of ones self. It's a decision to try to do something well. Cooking is a sacrifice. Being in the kitchen should light some fire in you that fills you with dignity...even if you spend hours talking about dick and ass.

I've made my choices. Sometimes they've been stupid. But I don't get mad about inequality, or what's not working in my favor anymore. It's important to remember that fate and circumstance had nothing to do with how you ended up here. If you can't deal with your situation, you get to make a choice to remove yourself from it. If you're not moving up, you get to make a choice to re-focus and try harder. And if you're doing well, you get to make a choice to settle in where you're comfortable, or to contribute something of substance to your craft. It's all up to you.

notes:

Gee, I wonder what restaurant he could be talking about.
Our meal at Flour & Water was the best of the year after Coi. Amazing pasta, inspiring lambs tongue, tasty pizza, friendly people. Don't be surprised when Tom McNaughton gets a rising star from the Chronicle.
The difference between tech support guys and kitchen equipment repairmen is that tech support guys are actually into tech.
Listening to Andrew Zimmerman chew makes me want to throw up.
Speaking of Chew, you gotta check out this comic. It has a serial killer sous chef in issue 1. (Which is now going for $50 on eBay)
Cory Cartwright (who writes Saignee) is a cool motherfucker. Fun hanging out with him at Terroir.
Surprisingly, a whole weekend of no 3g connectivity didn't kill me. The 6 hour drive to Tahoe almost did though.
I understand the envy, but why can't folks just mind their own business? I've been on both ends; seeing others get sweet treatment (TFL) and getting it (Coi)
Ginger Pierce is one of my favorite humans on the whole planet.
Blu-Ray. There is no other way now.
That Giants no-hitter was so fucking fun to watch.

quotes and conversations:

Amy: Will we ever hang out again?
Me: I hope so. Corey's on lock down though.
Corey: Whatta ya mean i'm on lock down? You can't cage a tiger, bro.

"I'm also from fuckin' Wisconsin, so I don't have to explain why I drink PBR."
-Justin

Me: Hey Mer-mer. How's the fries?
Merrell: They're good.
Me: They're good? Are you enjoying them?
Merrell: I enjoy them more when they're on my ass.

"Well actually, white chocolate's not chocolate."
-Corey

"This way i'm more aerodynamic and free-flowing."
-Mongoose. Got a haircut.

Me: She was really crazy.
Goose: Really really?
Me: Really really.
Goose: Did you have to put her in a headlock?

"I lost my boyfriend, got hit by a bike, and lost my job."
-Ponder. Had a nightmare.

"This kilograms. It's a measurement on the scale?"
-Gerardo. Not up to speed on the metric system.

Me: How's this dude gonna eat a flatbread every night?
Goose: (shrug)
Me: Gerardo, you're gonna get worms or something.
Gerardo: They got pills for that.
Paulie: ..........

Me: What if your balls were made out of aluminum?
Ponder: They'd be worth about 9 bucks at the recycling center.

from top: dusk, mirror, no service on the 4th, my wife will blow your head off, USA!, burger, the bus stop, Ponder, grilled watermelon, Corey, spices, what does 3 stars mean anyways?, worst tip ever, ronde de nice, carbonara, maritess, ponderfish, day off, gibraltars, katana-ya

What happened in Vegas.

2009-06-30T00:54:00.001-07:00

I had plans to write about clashing personalities in the kitchen, until something happened in Las Vegas over the weekend.

I was inspired.

Most chefs seek out inspiration; they travel, and stage, and eat. The thinking is that total immersion in great kitchens and dining rooms will bring a spark--hopefully a new technique, or flavor combination...something progressive that can be expanded on and used to further their cuisine. Coming back to their own kitchen, some chefs push to bring their cooks up to speed. What would happen if these new ideas and inspiration somehow passed them by?

This was not what happened to me over the weekend. I did not see progressive cooking. There were no techniques that I had never seen before, and all of the flavor pairings played it safe. To go even further than that, I mostly ate what I could only assume was largely frozen/bought in/pay-no-mind-to-how-fucked-these-ingredients-are kinds of items. And it was here, amidst meaningless celebrity chef restaurants, poor ingredients, merchandising, and an overt "I don't love this restaurant but I love the money" attitude that I found inspiration. It's always in the most unlikely place.

After 6 years since my last visit, I was hoping that Vegas had possibly progressed a bit. There are farmers markets there, an endless stream of money, and a long line of young cooks eager to step off of the buffet line. The town had moved beyond Emeril, Puck, and even Mina (kinda.) How could you go wrong with chefs like Guy Savoy and Robuchon stepping into the mix? There has been countless Travel Channel shows extolling the amazing balance of big volume cooking meets deeply passionate chefs topped off by brilliant efficiency. And yet, I saw none of this. It was as if all the name chefs were just signing over their names and sending a vague instruction manual on how to operate their concept. And they were all eating it up.

Vegas has an illness, where the food is either dirt cheap or insanely expensive. Dining at L'atelier--where the food was beautiful and tasty--I couldn't help but be taken aback by the prices. $25 for a single egg, with button mushrooms and asparagus? $38 for 4 pieces of kampachi, with olives and tomatoes? And even Burger Bar got in the mix. $16 burgers, with frozen fries, and a .45 cent charge for aioli. It would seem only the desert outpost of the Carnegie Deli got it right, with massive sandwiches for around $20.

And what about the ingredients? Never once did I see the words organic, or local, or seasonal. No doubt the endless throngs of weekend revelers could care less about these things...but isn't there virtue in trying to do the right thing? Couldn't a hotel group find an angle behind selling good food? Instead of the ubiquitous farmers roll call found on so many California menus, I only found an ad for Hubert Keller approved Burger Bar thongs. What kind of girl wants her underwear to say "Burger Bar" on them?

All I could think of was coming home, and cooking great ingredients with people that cared. I longed to be in a place that was loved. I had been inspired by what not to do...which was followed quickly by a renewed appreciation for my previous day to day inspirations. Looking at all of the money and extravagence of Vegas, it all seemed so silly. I refuse to believe that these hotel groups have their fingers firmly on the pulse of what America wants...instead I think that they're better at forcibly telling them.

Every meal--good or bad, brings you closer to a better realization of what you want and why you cook. You need to look at every aspect...from the time you're greeted to the time you pay the check. Is the place clean, even where the guest doesn't normally look? Is there someone there to say goodbye on the way out? Do the ingredients taste like what they are? (turnips at robuchon, im looking at you) Are you left with a deeper appreciation of where you come from?

notes:

In the "which chef would you punch" survey, Bobby Flay and Gordon Ramsay were the big winners
Nightclubs are ridiculous
Getting to know a new knife is kinda like having a new boyfriend or girlfriend
3gs is very awesome, but I look like a crazy person using the voice command feature
I would also like to punch Shia Lebeouf
A fun game in Vegas is "porn star, stripper, or hostess at Chili's"
When the somm said she had a nice wine pairing to go with the foie gras burgers, she failed to mention that said glasses of wine were $35 each
Probably the best Spanish i've ever spoke was with the very drunk man from Guadalajara
I suppose it was a good thing that I didn't wake up and bet $50 on the US soccer team
To everyone that responded to the vegas tweets, thanks. You guys are pretty funny

quotes and conversations.

Me: What about you Goose? You ever cry after you bone down?
Goose: I would like to...when a guy bones down, there's not a whole lot of feeling. Well, there's a lot of feeling, but not a whole lot of emotion.

"Jerk off into a bowl ten times? I don't have that kind of stamina."
-Eddie

"I never made sex chicken in the shag wagon."
-Corey

"You're married dude. Nothing matters now."
-Chef

Eddie: I had granola and yogurt for breakfast.
Corey: And you washed it down with a hot dog?
Eddie: Two hot dogs.

Corey: Eddie, did you have hot dogs for breakfast today?
Eddie: Yeah.
Merrell: Again?
Eddie: Dude, they come in packages of eight...buying a package of hot dogs is a committment.

"Whoa! I almost just sat on your head with my crotch!"
-Merrell

Maritess is wearing an "Everyone Loves An Irish Girl" t-shirt
Me: You're not Irish. What are you doing wearing that shirt?
Maritess: Well everyone still loves them...

"I got a sex toy in my pants anyways, why would I need a new one?"
-Corey

Me: Gerardo, Paulie's gonna give you a hand job
Gerardo: Right now?

"Did you just imitate me faking an orgasm?"
-Eddie

pictures 1-14 from l'atelier, sushi ball machine, farmers market, hot dogs, Vegas, us, porcini and egg, sardines, canneloni, halibut, twitter buddy, plums, dear hipster, ricotta, spotted parrotfish from Mike Black

Change?

2009-06-21T12:31:00.001-07:00

Question of the week: How has cooking, or being in kitchens changed you? How are you different from when you started? Do people change? (6/15/09 on twitter)
ingridc@linecook:I feel I know myself better from being in a kitchen--my strengths & weaknesses, what drives me not just as a cook but as a person
Tanukipdx@linecook I think people are what they are but chef work brings out the best or worst in people and then exaggerates those qualities.
slow_lane@linecook I've seen change in others,seen them become harder,stronger people. Kitchens are like Fight Clubs, they change your world view.
pnbryan@linecook I used to talkback a lot to authority. now i keep my mouth shut and get my work done when it needs to be done. good change.
adoxograph@linecook your questions are too provoking (in a good way) to try and limit answers to 140, especially first thing in the morning.
Gingerthegirl@linecook My hands have felt like sandpaper for 6 years. I guess I will never be a hand model.
MatthewSievert@linecook @ruhlman cooking "on the line" teaches teamwork and accountability in a very rapid fashion.
Annmerrell@linecook loaded question. Hard to think about during sunday rush, but definitely one that makes you step back and think about your life
Mr_Neon@linecook im more at peace. its been an outlet for my stress or problems, aka the dating scene.
GuyArnone@linecookCooking has taught me to listen. The kitchen made me consistent. The kitchen brings out the best in us & shows us the worst in us

I can't remember what I was like before I started cooking.

No, seriously.

I'm vaguely aware that yes, I had a life before the kitchen, and it was full of all sorts of people, and experiences, and jobs, and friends. I just don't remember it. I try to--there was a lot of life there. But all I can see is hazy memories, people I don't know anymore, and what seems like wasted time. And what about you?

It's simple. Look at your life, now. What you're doing, where your goals lie, what's ahead. What was there before? What did you think you were gonna be when you grew up? Was this the path you thought you were going to end up on?

You don't become a cook and change right away. It's a metamorphosis--it takes time. For some people, a lot of time. There's usually a great deal of mental and physical trauma involved. At a certain point a cook comes to realize that they are not sailing on a pirate ship doing fuck all. Seeing that this is not a party--some creative culinary orgy involving loose waitresses, booze and tough guy posturing usually sends most folks running back to the cubicle. For others it's something as simple as the first turn on a busy night. A bewildered look, coupled with a soaked chefs coat, followed by a two weeks notice. Maybe catering is a better choice?

For those that stay in it, an adapt/conform or die approach becomes the daily attack. The dread of daily service, building into nausea around five o'clock...this sends a message to your entire being. Trying to dial yourself in forces you to think in ways you never did before. You make choices every day, usually the wrong ones. And at a certain point you develop a routine that starts to work. These changes start to manifest themselves in your personal life too. After you've slugged your way through your first successful Saturday night, how could you ever look at something as simple as a single minute the same way?

Do you remember the first time you went out for drinks with friends after this change began? Could you relate to them? Did you just sit there, shell shocked? Were you a numb, mumbling stranger? For me my core of friends stayed the same. The guys I had known since middle school were family; they were here to stay. But those folks on the fringes of my life were the ones that suddenly seemed like strangers. But why? Were things moving so quickly, the changes coming so suddenly, that it seemed like they were standing still?

It didn't stop there. Moving up in the kitchen, with hours growing longer and contact with the outside world melting away accelerated this disconnect. My patience did a strange dance between short fuse and overwhelming compassion. Calls stopped being returned, emails were never answered. Everything looked different. I felt urgency in my life. Those little moments mattered now. Leaving people behind didn't happen purposely. It was just the way things went down.

People do change. Choices are made, sometimes by circumstance, often by necessity. Anyone that thinks an old dog can't be taught new tricks is probably a person that you don't know anymore. And then there are always those that never change. You can still go back and find them cooking the same station, plating the same food, and keeping the same daily routine. Maybe they find comfort in normalizing what feels chaotic to them...I really don't know. But have you ever done it? Have you gone back to your old kitchen, or ran into a cook you came up with? Are there those lifers there that you used to look up to, or respect, or fear? How do you feel about them now?

The me before I started to cook, followed by the me in culinary school, which led to the me as line cook....every step of the way there was change. Becoming a sous chef only accelerated things. And changing kitchens? Forget about it. Sometimes I think about all the people I used to know, and all things I used to do. It's foreign. There is little to no nostalgia involved. My only memories are what feel like someone elses war story. So where are you now? Who do you know from your past life? How has cooking changed you?

notes:

Drinkup at 15 Romolo was the shit. It's making me question ever going back to Friday night podcasts. Highlights: FiDi dudes getting spanked by their escort, Amy and Justin dancing to The Doors, and all the sweet treatment from Scott Baird and crew. I stopped ordering and just took whatever they brought me...tasty bites and phenomenal drinks. Go. Now.
Thomas McNaughton from Flour & Water took his first day off in 2 months and ate dinner at Nopa. I like that guy.
The Wire the third time around is even better than the first time.
The chicharrones/hotfoodporn/linecook/coreynead BBQ is going to be the shit.
giving wine to a 4 year old. don't do that.
Where do you go to eat good food in Vegas?
I more or less laughed my whole way through this.
there is no culinary underbelly. just the industry as it is.

quotes and conversations.

"Hey dude, there might be some bones in your taco party."
-Corey. Throws a boney taco party.

Merrell: Stop staring at my breast.
Camaal: It's not your breast, it's a cupcake.

Me: Gerrardo, if a cougar pounces on you, you have to make a loud noise, clap your hands together...
Gerrardo: If a cougar pounces on me, i'm gonna be happy!

Me: Snack it up fatty. You want some ranch to go with that?
Merrell: You got some?
Me: Yeah I do. Extra special batch from my Hidden Valley.
Eddie: Oh no.

Gerrardo: I can smell that cheese all the way over here.
Me: It's Merrell's farts dude.
Gerrardo: Well it makes me hungry.
Merrell: Ew.

Goose: That's a tall glass of water.
Me: It's a tall drink of water.
Goose: Oh. You knew what I meant.

Me: In first class they serve you an ice cream sundae and a chocolate chip cookie.
Justin: I have to fly first class cuz' i'm too fat for coach.

Al: My master says to soak for ten minutes.
Me: My master? You should be saying that wearing a happy coat.
Chef: Or chains.

Ponder: Reeaaacch around.
Me: Ah, reach around. If you make a fee-fee you don't have to give a reach around.
Goose: But you can use the fee-fee to give the reach around.
Ponder: The visual won't go away. I'm trying to use baseball or kitties and it's not working.

Amy: We're gonna put cameras in your station...
Maritess: You're gonna see the inside of my digestive tract then....

"I've got my elephant banana hammock on today. It keeps your junk in one place the entire service."
-Ponder. Underwear aficionado.

from top: sauces, clean cut boys, postcard from Cosentino, glazed squash, osso bucco, halibut, squash blossoms, savoy cabbage, gibraltars, awesome cake, il cane rosso

Podcast #14 - Francis Lam and Ginger Pierce

2009-06-09T12:30:00.001-07:00

Wow, 14 podcasts. This is the end of "season 1" of the linecook
podcast. It's a fun one--recorded over Skype, which caused some
serious headaches in the first ten minutes. (I edited all that mess
out.) Our guests were Francis Lam from Gourmet Magazine, Ginger
Pierce, chef de cusine at 5 Points in NYC, and her boyfriend Preston,
the chef de cuisine at Freeman's. There is some hissing on the
recording and the what not, but whatever.

Topics were street food, brunch, and banging the chonch. You'll see.

We'll be back in July with more for you. Thanks for listening.

What cooking is.

2009-06-06T14:51:00.001-07:00

Cooking is/Cooking is not:

cooking is passion, cooking is not a job - @thedanbrown
Cooking is a craft. Cooking is not about shortcuts. - @savorykitchen
cooking is humbling and cooking is not for the weak. - @coreynead (Corey)
Cooking is gritty. Cooking is not glamorous. - @chefmatthew1
cooking is everything. Cooking is not for everyone. - @randomplacement
Cooking Is Lamp, Cooking Is Not Batman. What did I win? - @hotfoodporn (Eddie Lau)
Cooking is meditation, not cooking is aggrevation. - @m_twang
Cooking is washing the dishes. Not cooking is ordering out and an empty dishwasher. - @leonardstinks (Leonard Shek)
cooking is good when there is heart and soul, cooking is bad when it's forced - @chicharrones (Ryan Farr)
fun, fun - @cnewton9
cooking is Risky Business, cooking is not Top Gun - @CNrecords
I hope someone says, 'Cooking is all about me. Cooking is not all about me.' I wish all cooks knew this balance. FOHers too. - @ckell79 (Chris Kelling)
cooking is amazing. Cooking is not a sport. - @RFaucette

And here is my thesis: Cooking is a career. Cooking is not a lifestyle choice. Got a minute? Great. Let's chat.

Cooking is not about acting out your own personal version of Kitchen Confidential. It's not an excuse to drink to excess. It's not a license to behave badly. Cooking should be an all emcompassing means to an end; a chance to express yourself, further yourself, and learn every day. You should cook because you have to. It should well up inside you until you're twitching and shaking, and when you're sitting there at the end of the night, it should feel like someone sucked gallons of venom out of you. Cooking should fill you with pride, and terror, and a longing for something new every day. You know the feeling you get when you meet someone new? That overwhelming excitement/nervousness/lust? Yeah, you should feel that all the time.

Cooking is not about winning, although in certain cases it can be all about losing. Cooking is not a fistfight, or a staring contest. Cooking is not about looking cool--because the truth is, almost no one looks cool in an apron. Cooking is about sacrifice, and dedication, and telling hundreds of complete strangers that you love them, every night. And cooking is knowing that almost none of them will say it back.

Cooking is where you should find peace. Cooking is not about releasing your agression. Cooking requires focus in the midst of chaos. You should crave the noise, and the heat, and mess of emotions you see. Cooking is not about you, even when it is. You should never take any credit, for anything. This does not mean you should act like a martyr; everyone has worked with the martyr cook, and he/she is always a complete asshole.

There is no phd for cooks. There is no masters program. It's one of the last places where who you know means almost nothing--you get in what you put in. Cooking is a place to prove yourself. Cooking is a place to connect with people you would otherwise never know. You should hate cooking sometimes. Jolts of frustration and anger and sadness should crawl right into your bones. And they should stay there--a constant reminder that this is not a game.

Cooking is whatever you want it to be. If it's about money, fine, it's about money. If it's about your ego, that's fine too. But ask yourself this: What are you to cooking?

notes:

being called a wannabe Bourdain was all at once confusing and hilarious
a sous vide rabbit failure will break your damn heart
Jesse wrote this about our exploding beer on last weeks podcast. either way, the beer was great
i wrote this, and it features Merrell and Eddie
someone please tell me how to fix the broken zippers on 4 of my hoodies
fuck, marry, kill chef edition: alice waters, thomas keller, ferran adria. go
7.1 surround sound might be excessive. im doing it anyways

quotes and conversations:

Me: Gerardo, it's not a cookie, it's fruited cake.
Gerardo: O.K.
Me: It's not a cookie...
Gerardo: I never said it was a cookie, I asked if you wanted a Fig Newton.
Justin: It's their slogan, dog.

"You add cheese and tortillas to anything, and people like it."
-Eddie

Me: Was that the sound of a dolphin?
Corey: Yeah. That's the sound I make when I make relations.

Me: You're used to that, aren't you?
Merrell: What, getting sprayed in the face?
Me: Yeah.
Merrell: Yeah, just not usually with oil.

Al: There are no more chocolates. They're extinguished.
Me: Extinct.
Al: Yeah.

Me: You sounded like a gay tenor just now.
Gerardo: Is that good?
Goose: You could make some money that way.
Gerardo: I could make some money a lot of ways.
Goose: That's the spirit.

"If I have a burrito right before I take a nap, best dreams ever."
-Gerardo

from top: dirty girl strawberry, gibraltars, speez, ultravac, rabbit failure, cucumbers, lamb, fresh garbanzos, halibut, dinner, torta thursday/boys night

Podcast #13 - Ryan Farr and Eddie Lau

2009-06-01T03:15:00.001-07:00

"Just follow your stomach, and trust your instincts...and lean on your
experience and knowledge. And that's why it doesn't matter if it's TGI
Fridays or French Laundry."
-Ryan Farr

If you ever wanted to
know what it's like to hang out with a bunch of cooks and chefs, this
is what it's like. We talk about a lot of stuff, but mostly it's just
a bunch of guys chatting over drinks together. This one is one my
personal favorites.

The crew was Eddie, Ryan, Matty Conway, Corey Nead, and Eddie Dick. And a special call-in from Amy Brown!
Intro music is Cath Hell Blues by The White Stripes

Next?

2009-05-30T21:29:00.001-07:00

It's late, and for the first time all night you're all alone. Tonight was your last night in this kitchen. The past three weeks since you gave your notice were full of lots of jokes about being a short timer, and pats on the back, and reminiscing. You felt your once iron grip on the kitchen start to loosen as you took a step back. You trained the folks taking over your responsibilities. Every night your bag was a little heavier, as you slowly started taking home all of the spoons and spatulas and knives that weren't necessary for a typical service. Tonight was amazing; a perfect service (because none of the cooks wanted to fuck your last one up) followed by drinks, and hugs, and a tear in the eye of that hostess that had a crush on you. And now you're standing in a dark, quiet, shiny kitchen. You've known this moment was coming--in fact you were even looking forward to it. But now you're filled with this strange melancholy. Walking out of the building feels weird. It's not exactly like the leaving the hotel after a great vacation, but it's pretty close. Everything is about to change. You're moving on. A quick "Oh shit. What happens now?" flashes through your head. It's part excitement, part self-pride, and all terror.

Some cooks never move on. They find a spot they like, and they stick. There is no shame in that. It's amazing to hear the stories; cooks that have thrown down on the same station for 10+ years. Even better are the tales of dishwashers that became prep cooks, then sautee cooks, and eventually sous chefs. Sometimes it's about money. Sometimes it's about comfort. But the vast majority of cooks are always looking to the horizon, wondering what comes next. So go ahead: Ask yourself, right now, what's next? Where do you go from here? Have you paid your dues? Are you ready for the next step? Do you still find a good challenge in your current place? What is it that's making you stick?

In my life, i've only ever been good at two things: writing, and cooking. I've tried so many things--most of them utter failures. Writing has been easy for me since I was young--it started in sixth grade and hasn't stopped since. Cooking came later, but came on strongly. That the two have intersected to become this blog has been great; it's been such a huge part of my life for the past 2 years that at times it's overwhelming: Work all week. Write notes, take pictures, jot down quotes. Run errands all day Friday, until the podcast. Saturday, wake up, go to market, come home, write, edit the podcast, return emails, go to bed. Sunday it starts all over again. The fucked part is that I actually want to cook and write more. It seems like there is some much to do, and no time to do it.

In a month and a half, I turn 30. Sometime in the next year I will probably become a father. Things are going to change. I have no current plans to leave Nopa, nor do I want to: Nopa is like a warm hug on a cold day. It has this amazing power to energize and inspire you, and in this industry, that is a true rarity. But no one is going to end their career in that kitchen. Hopefully the Nopa kitchen becomes a breeding ground for the next crop of great chefs...but who knows? I think I have a pretty solid idea of what I want next....but how do I accomplish it? I'm stuck at this scary, unfamiliar crossroads, with no idea what comes next.

The reassuring thing is this: a good cook will always have a job. People need to eat. The only disheartening thing for me has been that i'm probably better known at this point for writing than cooking--but that's not exactly bad. I will do both, for the rest of my life, regardless. It's easy to lose track of why you do something when you're a slave to numbers: how many covers did we do? How many hits on the blog this week? How many twitter followers? What were sales this week? The truth is, at the end of the day, the only thing that matters is you. That sounds selfish. It is. That doesn't mean its wrong.

I want to know what you think about this. What do you do next? What has guided your decisions up to this point? What is next? How does a person leave their mark? Are you scared? Where do we go from here?

notes:

merrell's list of why i'm a geek: comics, video games, blogging, dumb jokes, etc.
corey can still kill it at night
sous vide is coming to nopa. shhh, don't tell anyone
i dont get nervous cooking for chefs. but cooking for eddie and scott beale was a bit nerve racking
sometimes genorosity in this city is overwhelming; coffee at blue bottle, strawberries at dirty girl, a free tee from eddie, and mourad letting me use his ultravac. dang
leaving your rabbit out of the cage when you go to market is not recommended
summer is in full effect at the market

quotes and conversations:

"I had a rabbit once, but it got eaten by an owl."
-Aaliyah

Merrell: Fire flatbread.
Goose: You fire flatbread.
Merrell: I don't know how!

Me: Eddie, have you had sex with yourself lately? You really shouldn't deny yourself the pleasure.
Eddie: I really haven't. Fucking busy lately. Plus, I don't have internet.

Eddie: Guess what I was reading this morning?
Me: What's that?
Eddie: Best Women's Erotica 2009.

Me: You might get a guy to give you a western style handjob.
Eddie: That guy being Paulie.

Me: Gerardo, did they violate you?
Gerardo: YES!

from top: everything is going just fine, corey at night!, duck pancetta, brooks cherries, induction, jamon iberico, merrell and chop, late night snacks, dinner, eddie, rooftop plants

Podcast #12 - Sebo. Michael Black and Danny Dunham

2009-05-24T00:50:00.001-07:00

"When you do what you do because you love to do it, people pick up on that." -Michael Black

When we left Sebo on Friday night, we were buzzing. (literally and figuratively.) Listening to Mike and Danny talk was interesting, and funny, and informative. It was a big crew: Mike, Danny, Natalie Trousdale, Speez, Goose, Corey, and me. They were very gracious, providing food (medai heads, a half tray of uni!) and the drinks. This podcast is largely un-edited, except for a chunk at the end that sounded distorted. There is the sound of the hood in the background, and a lot of glasses clinking and slamming. Whatever.

Topics covered: sushi, cooking, tradition, etc.

Intro music is "Sarah" by Diplo

Brigade.

2009-05-23T22:50:00.001-07:00

My brigade is not perfect. My brigade does not have fine dining experience. My brigade is mostly non college educated. My brigade is a work in progress. And my brigade can probably cook most brigades into the ground.

My brigade is not a family. At best, we are a close knit group of friends with a mutual respect for one another. We hang out, and chat and drink, but we know where the lines are drawn. Speaking to one of my best chef friends, he told me about a sous chef that was fucking up at his work. Borderline scams and laziness, and all of it allowed to pass because he is friends with his boss. Friends before the restaurant. Not in our crew. People are important--but the guest and the ingredient come first. Personal sacrifice is just part of the deal.

My brigade isn't out to prove a point. There is no bigger sense of purpose here. We love cooking. We feed on serving people. We hate failure, but don't deny how important it is to help us move forward. We're comprised of simple people. Smart people. Folks that believe in loyalty. We speak the same language, even when we don't. My brigade isn't concerned with Michelin, or James Beard, or Food and Wine Magazine. The only concern is what's happening, that day, at that moment. Looking forward is good, but can make you fuck up now.

My brigade is an enigma. As strong as we are collectively, and as closely knit as we appear, we still hang by a thread on most days. One person removed ruins the equation. We are lucky to have a core that sticks. Nothing is static: energies change from night to night. My brigade understands the fragility of the situation--how temporary all this is. None of us will end our careers together. I can't look at a great sautee cook and hope that one day I can hire them; if all goes according to plan, I should end up eating in their dining room.

My brigade frustrates me. I want them to want more. I want to see more...but I understand that the intense nature of our environment probably has a lot to do with these elements not emerging. They are not average. My brigade is a group of people that would never be friends, or even know each other outside of the kitchen. They all have their dreams, but the necessity to be in the moment can distract from that.

At our best, my brigade is a force of nature. Unstoppable. Intensely focused, but with a smile on their faces. My brigade will come at you like they're looking for a fight. When they're making it happen, pride swells up in me and is almost impossible to contain. My head tingles, and I want to stand on the fume hood and yell "Yeah motherfuckers! You're fucking welcome!" On our best nights, my brigade brings people closer together, creates cherished memories, and gets people laid.

I've been a part of three brigades that mattered: the two person brigade that was just me and Ginger in culinary school. The Va De Vi brigade that had Angelo Smith, Joey Rachel, Chris Rossi, and Saul Flores. And the current group at Nopa. So ask yourself: What does your brigade mean to you? Who are it's members? What sets you apart?

notes:

oh, right. my towel was on fire
shuna wrote this, and it's very good
being brought bourbon twice in one week is pretty cool - thanks Jason and Peter!
eddie, the artist. super nice guy.
writing for yourself: easy, fullfilling, cathartic. writing for others: difficult, frustrating, draining
every chef should re-read Ruhlman's books from time to time
super glueing your buttons will keep them from popping off your bag
coming in and saying hi: cool. staring and pointing: not so cool.

quotes and conversations:

Chef: Corey, would you like to tell the nice people about your Corey-zo?
Corey: Well, it's a calibration between me and Al...
Chef: Collaboration.
Corey: Yeah.

Me: White guys with dreadlocks dude.
Justin: White guys with dreadlocks?
Me: White guys with dreadlocks.
Justin: Last guy I punched was a white guy with dreadlocks.

Me: She kinda looks like a vampire.
Goose: Yeeeessssss! I love vampires.
Camaal: She gonna suck it?

Al: Did you read the Chronicle today?
Me: No.
Al: You didn't read it?
Me: No.
(pause)
Me: What was in it?
Al: I don't know, I didn't see it.

Me: Gerardo, you ever put your dick in a peanut butter sandwich?
Gerardo: (Nods.)

Me: So how was it?
Camaal: So good. We go to the house, we are drinking, smoking...
Me: Cool man.
Corey: What's his name?

Me: Hey dude, is that a half pack of Rolo's in your pocket?
Corey: It's actually half of a tic-tac.

Jeff: Sometimes it's a girl, sometimes it's a guy.
Corey: Like Paulie's dating life.

Me: You can smell her moustache from here.
Ponder: It smells like a Bolivian bat cave.

Me: OK, if Natalie Portman told you that you could bone down with her, but you had to eat that... (pointing at Paulie's sweeping pile)
Paulie: Just that?
Me: Yeah.
Paulie: OK.

from top: heart, sauce reflection, pancetta, the crew, halibut, cherries, clog wars, voltron, leg of lamb, let's be frank dog

Podcast #11 - Kevin Kelley (The NPA) and Wolfgang Weber (Spume)

2009-05-17T12:39:00.001-07:00

Wow, what a change. Kevin Kelley and Wolfgang Weber came out to podcast with us, and we had our first non bourbon and beer soaked podcast. Sadly, Amy had to miss this one, so Corey and I hung out with the boys, talked wine, and had some laughs. Topics covered were all things wine, organics, and why crocs suck.

Audio quality is very nice, so I think our recording troubles are over. (knock on wood)

Next week we head to Sebo late night to chat with Michael Black--our first off site podcast. The following week is hopefully the Ryan Farr/Eddie Lau re-record, and following that should be our East Coast-Skype recording. Then things get wacky for me (weddings, time off, etc) and for Corey (baby!) so we'll see what happens.

As with all our guest podcasts, this one clocks in a bit longer--around 90 minutes.

Intro music is Barracuda by Heart.

Elusive.

2009-05-09T22:59:00.001-07:00

I'm sitting here staring at the menu. For the past 20 minutes. There has been this ugly struggle going on in my brain lately. Maybe you can tell me how this happens: You have all of the most beautiful ingredients on the planet in your walk-in. There is a limitless well of technique and talented cooks to draw on, and your chef has so much trust in you that he almost never questions your menu items. And you have exactly zero ideas of what to do with the duck dish tommorrow.

Inspiration. Where does it come from? Where does it hide? You know it the moment you feel it: during a great meal, browsing a cookbook, or just walking around your city. There is a burst of energy, a momentary loss of breath, followed by a tingling feeling in your brain. Your pupils dialate, and all you know is that you need to store this moment away, and later translate it into something amazing.

When inspiration is eluding you, it's akin to depression. You feel thin, gaunt, lost. Looking at food, all you can see is stolen ideas, and repetition. Your ideas--so mundane and sophmoric. At best, you could cater the green room on a t.v. talk show. But why? You can cook. The menu, up until tonight has been a hit. Do you feel like all you're doing is repeating? Are you stuck in the culinary equivalent of Groundhog Day?

Inspiration is not linear. There is no map to find it by. That book that lit your fire a year ago might seem completely foreign to you now. But the constant pursuit of inspiration is what's going to make you better. You have to search it out. Push all the time. Read. Listen. Ask questions. For me, lately inspiration has come from the people in my life. Surround yourself with honest, interesting, creative people. Open yourself up to them. Show them everything. Stop being afraid of yourself.

Every cook has that fire burning in them--and you can really tell when it's burning brightly. If you're not inspired, it's your duty to seek out whatever it is that gets you going. Re-visit. Talk. Laugh. Read. Listen. Love. Fight. Debate. Get angry. Feel elation. Let pain in. Just don't deny any moment that might move you forward. At the end of the day, inspiration might be what ends up getting you through.

notes:

really, I wish Violet and Ben could be on our podcast every week
I like when people I respect talk me out of things
Chasing people with a cart at Ferry Plaza is pretty funny
Why not use a thesaurus?
Corey is now on twitter. @coreynead
If you had to choose between eating at Schwa, Alinea, or Avenues, where would you go?

quotes and conversations

"Hey Rich, I touched the sausage all day. Heh."
-Ponder, who was trying to tell me that he got into his backup of sausage.

"Camaal just called me a flower."
-Merrell

Me: You could say that Mongoose salutes big cocks.
Goose: You could say that.

Me: That's the second Wondertwins reference today, and that's two too many.
Ponder: I like the Wondertwins.

Goose: Did you say trifecta graph?
Me: Yes, i'm blowing your mind on a daily basis now.
Goose: That's not the only thing you're blowing.

"I miss Merrell."
-Camaal.

Me: Gerardo, I want you to get a coffee mug and put a scoop of tokaji and strawberry in it.
Gerardo: Just that? No coffee?

from top: a whole night, peas, artichokes, leg of lamb, choices, broken freezer, steak, dinner, no lactose, small dice, i hate sundays, merrell's fry pocket, gibraltars, eddie and ryan

Podcast #10 - Violet

2009-05-09T20:44:00.001-07:00

So after 2 weeks of podcasting and subsequent corrupt file failures, we had a win--courtesy of Ms. Violet Blue. She brought by her mac, and recorded along with me. Thank god. My files came out wonky and distorted in parts. Hers came out crisp and clear. So here we are--podcast #10 is finally published.

Ben came along with Vi, and Corey and Amy were in the house as well. We're building an exciting podcast schedule--re-recording last week's with Ryan Farr and Eddie Lau should be especially good.

Next week we return to our simple 1 mic setup--because it works. Wolfgang Weber and Kevin Kelley will be in the house. Comments and questions are always welcome. linecook415@gmail.com, @linecook on twitter

Music: Dance Song '97 by Sleater Kinney, my favorite band of all time.

ps
To anyone that emailed us topics, or podcast ideas, I have to say sorry. We did cover pretty much everything sent to us on the failed podcasts, but it felt contrived for us to re-hash these conversations that we had already had. So we started fresh. Please keep them coming.

pps
I said it before, and i'll say it again--the best part of these podcasts is what happens when we stop recording.

Clean.

2009-05-02T18:54:00.001-07:00

Sometimes this happens to you: Stepping onto the station, a chill goes down your spine. The squeeze bottle sits in a puddle of oil. There are bits of chervil and chives everywhere. Chicken stock is puddled all over the place, and the salt...oh the salt. There is fucking salt everywhere. And it's clumped up from having wet fingers in it. You reach for chard, and realize that all of the greens have become mixed throughout the night. It's a complete mess, and it hasn't even been that busy.

I'm a notorious clean freak when it comes to my (and others) stations. Early on in my career, as I prepped a vinaigrette, the sous chef came pulled me away from my cutting board and said "You need to work cleaner."

Huh?

I thought I was working clean. I protested for a moment. The sous ran his hand over my cutting board, and showed me his palm. It was filthy. He picked up my knife and wiped it off--leaving bits of herbs and shallot on his towel. He organized my mise into a neat row, glared hard at me, and walked away.

Working clean makes you a better cook. It increases your focus. Your plating is cleaner. Your mise is always in order. And it's so easy. Have you tried it? A commitment to take that extra second to wipe down after you do something? Keeping your squeeze bottles dry? Changing out the baine water your spoons sit in? Washing down whenever things get too dirty to wipe up with a towel?

Hopefully you have a chef that insists on this level of cleanliness.

It's so easy--and important. Your fellow cooks will respect you more. Your chef will respect you more. It will become something of an obsession (if you're like me) and the first time someone looks at your station and says "Wow." it will make you feel very good. As it becomes a part of your daily standards, you will start to transform into a better, sharper cook. There is no other way.

notes:

future podcasters - Violet Blue, Wolfgang Weber, Kevin Kelley, Francis Lam, Micheal Black

hanging out at sebo on a rainy day ain't half bad
some gibraltars are just better than others
my sneaker addiction is screaming at me
im probably not getting that $4000 ring at stuart moore
violet's video of kozy is here
sometimes when i go through my old records I can't help but wonder "what was i thinking?"
corey won't wait for totopo's
cold weather makes my hands creaky
oh, the irony of comcast not shooting their commercials in HD

quotes and conversations:

"Hey puto. Know what you should do on Monday? Buy a foam finger."
-Corey. Wants Al to have fun at the ballgame.

Corey: You want a fanny pack for what?
Goose: To stuff treats in.

Me: I wish I hadn't gotten this vagina botox.
Merrell: (laughing) Vagina botox? Write that down.

"In Mexico City, i'm known as puerco chupacabra."
-Corey

"Graceful like a motherfuckin' sea cow."
-Ponder. Never took ballet

Me: Corey, I was just talking to Brooke about your sex chicken.
Corey: Hey dude, leave sex chicken alone.

Me: Why are her teeth blue dude?
Jamie: Cuz' she's from Atlanta dude.

from top: want, michael black, tentacles, octopus, more octopus, by eddie, star wars, iced coffee and amy, green almond, goose on allergy meds, goose's slam, paulie's slam, shiny, violet, speez, kozy

Naked.

2009-04-25T19:21:00.001-07:00

Sunday. 6:01pm.
I'm freaking out. It's my first day back. We've shaken hands and said goodbye. Lineup went well. And now i'm completely losing my shit. My heart is screaming at me. I have to keep taking deep breaths to get air into my body. My head aches, and all I can hear is a muted, rumbling sound. Merrell and Ponder ask me if i'm ok, and I don't answer them. All I can see on the horizon is trouble, and fear, and failure. And we haven't sent a single plate out.

Thursday. 9:55pm.
My face hurts, and I still can't breathe--but instead of panic and doubt, i'm brimming with laughter. It's been a smooth night, and everyone is cracking jokes and having fun. There are plenty of friends in the house, and service feels less like work and more like a big house party. I'm so overrun with adrenaline and outright joy that my head is spinning a little. Service hasn't been perfect--there have been some loss of focus moments...but all in all the night is going well. Euphoria isn't the right word, but it comes close.

Friday. 11:15pm.
Is it quiet in here? It seems quiet in here. It's been busy--a heads down, deeply focused kind of night. There's this strange energy in the kitchen. I think this is some kind of culinary equiavalent of nirvana, but i'm not sure. My brain won't linger on any one moment for too long--things are happening too fast for that. Things have been almost perfect...but not necessarily fun. That's not to say that it's been one of those super intense, no fun nights--it hasn't. But the focus has just been too deep to dig out of. I feel completely calm.

2009 was supposed to be all about confidence, right? Moving forward, evolving, getting better. Be smarter, work harder, waste nothing--including time. Things started off well, and staying focused on that goal has been priority #1. Now it's Spring, and there's this strange feeling like time is hurdling forward. Everything seems more urgent, like someone went around slapping exclamation points on everything. It seems now like all the goals are starting to progress. We're stronger. I'm stronger. What was intense a year ago seems like childs play now. So why do I still get that Sunday feeling?

I'm not the best cook or chef. This blog doesn't have all the answers. I make stupid mistakes, and lose focus, and act lazy. I cuss, and talk shit, and sometimes wish I could just tell people to fuck off instead of helping them. There are days when cooking feels impossible. There are days when i'm so fucking scared and angry and ashamed that I can't even see straight. On these days I look at myself and ask this:

What if the insecurity and fear and doubt never go away? What if this is my curse?

Then I realize that it's not my curse--it's everyone's curse. Life is difficult. Cooking is hard. Those deeply focused days are amazing--and if they happened every day, then maybe our kitchen becomes more French Laundry than Nopa. And that might not be a good thing. The trouble is in balancing the focus, and the fun, and the fear. The trouble is in looking at your situation, be it fear or fun, and adjusting back to some form of control. The trouble is in realizing that it's not important to be perfect--it's only important to want and try to be perfect.

Sunday. 6:31pm
Deep breath. Exhale. Shake hands out. I'm good now.

notes:

8pm on a Friday night isn't a great time for the fire marshall to show up
that cute dog almost took my hand off
next weeks podcast features ryan farr and eddie lau
nopa sold 50,000+ burgers in the past 3 years
those pants at rvca were far too tight
when a cute girl/guy tells you they like your writing, it'll put a smile on your face
i kinda wanna marry blue bottle
kick ass, ex machina, and no hero are great comics
porchlight was fun
dinner at boulette's was amazing. stuart and nicole brioza = bad ass
the one star is almost as rare as the four
this blog post title has nothing to do with ponder's new twitter picture

quotes and conversations

Me: We should call each other by animal parts. Like duck neck. Or hambone.
Corey: How about chicken penis.
Me: That's a good one for Paulie.
Corey: Or turtle vagina.
Merrell: That's a good one for Paulie.

"When it's like this, it reminds me of a Twix commercial."
-Goose

"I dunno, if I were dating a guy that was showing naked pictures of me, i'd be stoked."
-Merrell

Corey: Hey dude. Some girl said I had on cool ass clothes yesterday. All I had on were Vans and a hoodie.
Me: Was she hot?
Corey: She was eight.

"That's like borderline Mark Summers shit."
-Ponder, on me mopping my kitchen floor.

Corey: Now I can jump off the roof.
Rachel: Not until you finish making soup.

from top: art!, the clash, iced espresso, crazy eating, dom p, bridge, boulettes, nopa empty, do i look fat in this?, sous chefs, goose, amy's stick hands, corey merrell ben al, matty

Plateau.

2009-04-18T22:59:00.001-07:00

Speez comes in for dinner with John, another manager from Nopalito. They sit at the bar and have some food and drinks. I go over to say hello, and knowing my love of graphs, they've drawn me a few. Mostly they're silly, but there's one that catches my attention. It's simple: x/y, with a line that starts at zero and goes up, then flat, then up, then flat. John explains it to me:

"It's an employee. They get better, then they plateau. You kick them in the ass, then they get better again. Then they plateau."

It stuck with me...mostly because it was so true. The more I thought about it, the more I thought about what my own graph would look like, or kitchens I had worked in. What were those moments where we moved up?

Cooking well takes time. Practice. Repetition. Focus. There are times where you feel like you're absolutely killing yourself. You tell yourself "there is no fucking way I could push harder than I am now." Then your chef throws two more dishes on your station. Graph goes up.

But what about the plateauing? Why does that happen? Sometimes it's because the kitchen hits a good groove. Why fuck with a good thing? Things start to click, service is smooth, the food looks and tastes great. And in a progressive kitchen, the team knows when they've played it safe. Time for new recipes. Move some cooks around. Push everyone out of their comfort zone. Graph moves up, food gets better, guests get a new experience. Or you stay on the plateau. Everyone stays in the comfort zone. Things are good, and the standard is maintained. Then it starts to get stale. The cooks get to a point where they can work their stations with eyes closed...and sometimes they do. Some restaurants spend their entire existance on this plateau.

So here's an idea. Imagine your own graph. Where are you on it? Where is your kitchen as a whole? Are you making progress upward? Does your complacency outweigh your progress? Are you playing it too safe?

notes:

nervousaboutmonday.com
alejandro is the sous chef
referencing blade runner and 2001 in the same conversation = big dorks
bottle rockets are just as fun as i remember them
killzone 2 is like an abusive spouse. i hate it, but keep going back
that's a big stack of Spanish cookbooks
everyone's apartment should smell like bacon
sometimes writing is hard
happy 3rd birthday nopa
i'm bad at interviews
porn stars look surprisingly average in real life
does technorati even work anymore?

quotes and conversations.

"Which one was it? I was a little drunk when I read it."
-Merrell, who missed her own quotes last week.

"Al doesn't know what's funny!"
-Maritess.

"I like that. I like the trail in to that song. Vogue, vogue, vogue..."
-Ponder. Likes Madonna.

"Any food thing that has the word 'awesome' in it is awesome."
-Corey

Me: Oh Merrell, what would you do without me?
Merrell: Have a little self esteem?

"You wanna feel this lump in my back?"
-Merrell. The answer is no.

"I love hot dogs!"
-Eddie

"I thought that was the morning after pill."
-Amy, on the restaurant RN74

Me: You been smokin' weed?
Amy: I don't need to. It's all natural.

"You know, i'd be disapointed if any daughter of Hulk Hogan didn't have a pito."
-Ponder

Me: Make her a Hogwart's dessert.
Maritess: I could make her booger beans.
Me: Huh?

Me: So J-Lo says you've done 200 burgers in a day before?
Camaal: Yeah, but in a microwave.

from top: sous meeting, JoEllen's gibraltar, the pixies, fish sticks, tools, fava's, dinner, london broil, beef jus, cherry blossoms, house made butter, good handle vs bad handle, 45$?, ferry plaza blue bottle, whiskey smash, fiddleheads

Podcast #9 - In Response to "I Was Wrong"

2009-04-18T21:02:00.001-07:00

This podcast features the return of Matty Conway, along with Corey and Amy. The main topic is the blog I wrote last week called "I Was Wrong", which elicited some strong reactions. We also cover foie gras.

We recorded using 2 usb mics for the first time, which ended up being a bit of a disaster. The sound quality really sucks this time. You can hear our dinner cooking in the background though.

The music is "Hybrid Moments" by The Misfits.

Podcast #8 - Your Emails

2009-04-11T22:33:00.001-07:00

Ah yes, our return. We built up a lot of emails, so this podcast was focused on answering them. Topics covered were Mission Street Food, Healthy SF, and the correlation between savory and pastry menus. We also rant on twitter, facebook, etc.

Our intro music playlist:

No Music
Newlyweds - Boom Bip
Bridge - Amon Tobin
Can't Seem To Find Him - Barry White
La La Love You - The Pixies
San Francisco Nights - People Under the Stairs
Police Truck - Dead Kennedy's
Electric Shake - Be Your Own Pet

knife resources from Aaron Margulis:
http://shop.niimi.okayama.jp/kajiya/en/index_e.html
http://www.japanesechefsknife.com/

I was wrong.

2009-04-11T18:03:00.001-07:00

When we cook together, I spend most of my time confused. You talk so much shit about cooking well, and wanting your own place someday. The lifestyle that cooking affords you seems like it was taylor made just for you. You can throw down on the biggest nights, and most of the time your food looks and tastes perfect.

But maybe I have been wrong about you all this time.

For the longest time I thought that you just needed some work. Special attention. I thought that maybe making a personal connection with you would help motivate you. We were friendly with each other. I looked at you and saw promise and potential and talent. A person on the verge of something great.

Then things started to turn. Your focus started to dull faster than your neglected knives. I realized a few things about you: You don't read about cooking. You don't eat out. You have almost no idea what's going on around town, much less New York, or Chicago, or the world. And when I try to relay info to you about these things you act like you couldn't care less.

So I have to admit that I have a hard time understanding how you plan to make a go of it in this industry. Did you ever consider that maybe there is a finite amount of talent in the world? And that maybe, just maybe you got a lesser share of that talent? Did you ever consider that maybe you're just too stupid, or lazy, or average to make it all come together?

Look at your chef. He never takes time to himself. He can cook anyone on your line under the table. And his menu ideas make yours look like they were lifted from an old issue of Food & Wine. He never complains. And he's tried to get your back, and motivate you, and shape you. You've only ever given him disdain, and excuses. The thing is, you could probably go out on your own, get a chef's job, make more money...but wouldn't it nag at you? To know you went about it the wrong way? Wouldn't it keep you up at night knowing that you were being average? A perfect C in a city filled with 4.0 gpa's?

Does a person have to just come to terms with the idea that they may never be great? Or is that just giving up? Are you going to look back on all this and think you were wasting your time? I have a hard time understanding why someone would go through all the pain and stress and hard work of cooking only to just barely give enough. I have a hard time watching potential being wasted. Are you really as average as you act?

Notes:

I hate sweetchuck
To anyone that's been waiting patiently for this update thanks
That torta isn't looking at me, she's looking at Ponder
DQ loves BJ
Meeting Lote Thistlethwaite was awesome. He gave us booze
Violet gave us (sexy) books
If you cook, and you order your burger MW, we need to have a chat
According to Corey, worlds are colliding
Fry Flecks are the french fry equivalent of Dippin' Dots
I'm not a violent person, but I wanted to punch that sous chef in the nose
Reality cooking shows need to go somewhere far away
Maybe enigma is the wrong word
Free POM is kinda awesome
Preeminent Ironist. Google search that shit. Or explain it to me

quotes and conversations

Merrell: I don't want to say I make the best potatoes, but I kinda do.
Me: Is that what you want? The potato crown? Because you can have it. Maritess, tell Merrell she makes the best potatoes.
Maritess: You make the best potatoes.
Merrell: I hate you.

Me: I listened to DRI on the way to work today.
Corey: I listened to Rod Stewart.

Amy: I used to know this girl that was really into gang bangs at the power exchange.
Me: I don't understand how you get really into gang bangs.
Amy: Well you can. You can really get into anything.

"It's a lose-lose if i'm boning down with Paulie."
-Merrell

Corey: Hey Merrell, what's your new nickname?
Merrell: DQ. Dairy Queen.
Corey: How come? You got poops goin on or somethin?

"It's like our periods are in sync."
-Ponder

Me: She kinda looks like a muppet.
Mongoose: Yeah. Muppets are cool though.

Merrell: I don't like it when you shaolin finger me.
Me: God, when you say it like that it sounds dirty.
Merrell: Yeah, I realized that as soon as it came out.

"I just make pizzas and burn bread."
-Mongoose

"Mrs. Doubtfire is the reason I hate Robin Williams. And I don't care if that fucker dies."
-Corey

"Doesn't listerine work? And whiskey?"
-Eddie

Amy: Seriously? You're about to have a kid and you just spent a shit ton of money on a tv?
Corey: Yeah dude, that's how I roll.

"Sarah and Meredith gang banged that chocolate cake the other night. I felt like I was watching a threesome. But I was on the outside, and the cake was the third person."
-Ponder

Me: Hey Eddie? When you have to do 30 to 40 cumshots a night does it wear you out?
Eddie: Of course. I'm not Mongoose.

from top: squab, dinner, leg of lamb, tagliatelle, ricotta salata, ribs, artichokes, agretti, beets, pig butchery, stock, line-up, ras el hanout, porchetta, walk-in, slayer, the boys, ann's soup, asparagus, halibut, london broil, goose, no cumshots, mr fabulous, april fools, april fools tweets, jeff's response

Pocast #7 - Things Get Rowdy

2009-03-29T12:07:00.001-07:00

Wow, this one gets wacky. Matt Conway, bartender at Nopa stopped by for our first 4 person podcast. We chatted about Michael Bauer, answered some emails, and told someone to fuck off for the first time. Matty was slurring by the end of it all. It's a fun listen.

The Real You.

2009-03-29T11:56:00.001-07:00

Last week I wrote about the transformation that happens during service; cooks stepping out of their own bodies as adrenaline and stress and heat took over. A 7 hour ride, where the barest, most naked emotions came through. A place where it was acceptable to cuss violently, but not acceptable to put up an ugly plate. It made me start to think about all the cooks i've worked with over the years--cokeheads, stress cases, alcoholics, amatuers, and in rare instances bad ass pros. It was this mix of personalities that made me start to wonder: Who was it that I was seeing? Is the person in the kitchen, in the heat of service the real "you"? Or is it some amalgam of emotion and circumstance and experience?

Let's take Jake for instance. Jake was a 4 year vet of the industry. He could throw down on sautee like a four star pro. I never saw him freak out. I did see him do an excessive amount of cocaine, and i'm not sure that he ever started a shift without smoking a blunt in his car. Who was I really seeing? Outside of the kitchen he was boisterous and loud--a mysoginistic borderline racist that loved Mac Dre and never hesitated to instigate a fight. In the kitchen, intoxicated as he may have been, he seemed to find some kind of peace...even if that peace manifested itself in an aggressive way.

There was also Sergio. Sergio was mostly quiet--a polite, soft spoken cook from the hills near Guadalajara. He made cooking look so easy. I would show him a new technique that I could barely grasp myself, and he had it down two plates later. He was also an astonishingly functional alcoholic. There were some nights where he would come to me and ask for booze--which then left me with the choice of enabling his behavior and having a smooth service, or trying to "help" him and watching things go down in flames. Something strange happened away from the kitchen though: the drinking continued, but his humanity slipped away. He became shy, cranky, and angry. I started to look forward to seeing him intoxicated at work.

And then there's me. Who was I when I was on the line back then? I remember being scared and humiliated and confident and cocky. As my skill set grew, it seemed like my social skills were retreating. Was cooking making me into some sort of J.D. Salinger-esque recluse? The first time my beard grew all the way out I freaked and shaved it and my head--which probably ended up making me look far crazier than I had before. I became so deeply obsessed with cooking and kitchen life that I found myself feeling shy around my own friends. If we weren't talking about food, what were we supposed to talk about?

Cooking does strange things to people. The person that you think you are and the person that others see is rarely one and the same. Everyone has a dark side; and a lot of times it's hard for a cook to distinguish between that dark side and themselves. Some cooks find sanctuary in the kitchen. It's their place to let all of their problems and concerns slip away and just focus on something that they love. Other times the kitchen becomes a place for like minded misfits to plan their next criminal enterprise. What's it like in your kitchen. Who is the real you?

notes:

my to-do list is never done
stop playing it safe
wow the podcast was rowdy this week
when it's nice in SF, you will see some very pale people wearing very little clothing
one gibraltar is never enough
the nopalito 3* review is out. i won 2$
my stolen iphone is back. good triumphed evil
losing your parking ticket will end up being very expensive
pearl jam's 10 on rock band. it's mastered very strangely
i keep seeing more and more blogs with notes and quotes on them. interesting
according to twitter, the cooks had to dump their asahi's, and eddie almost choked to death this weekend

quotes and conversations:

Me: Hey Ponder, do you have onions that aren't the same color as the panties you're wearing?
Merrell: That's funny, because i'm wearing pink underwear today. Wanna see?
Me: Yep. Those are the same color.

"Any girl that I know does NOT look that clean. Except my girlfriend."
-Goose. Knows dirty girls.

"I could move to New Mexico. And be a New Mexican."
-Al.

"I like when you call me senor."
-Edward. Likes to be called senor.

Al: Corey, I had a dream and you were in it.
Corey: Was it about me laughing at your Gucci wallet?

Hui: I want to get a taco truck, do dumplings out of it, soup...
Corey: You could call it dump truck.

Me: You might say Paulie is the Ray Charles of flatbread making.
Corey: Why, because it looks like a blind dude made em?

Me: Ponder, what should we do with Violet's burger?
Ponder: Well, I left my dildo upstairs in my locker, so...

Me: You've got an artichoke.
Goose: Hey...
J-Lo: I got it.
Goose: You got it?
J-Lo: Yeah, i've been doin it all night you fuckin puto.

Me: Ponder, if you do a Joey from Blossom again, i'll stab you in your asshole.
Ponder: I said that then immediately regretted it.

from top: carbonara, al, pork jus, no pancetta?, merrell's milkshake according to violet blue, seriously?, dont put all yout eggs in one basket, my knife sticks, baby danger, ricotta, pancetta @ 30+ days, beer at joes, instructions, linden, al when he was in danzig, stolen iphone comes home ftw.

Podcast #6 - Speez.

2009-03-26T03:33:00.001-07:00

Amy and Corey couldn't make it, so Sarah filled in. The topics were the good old medium rare to medium debate, and a brand new top and bottom 5. It was a fun one, and Sarah will be back.

Why we say goodbye.

2009-03-22T12:02:00.001-07:00

It's 5:30. It's hot. Prep period started calmly, then slowly built into a frenzy of chopping and reducing and cussing and sweating and a constant stream of "How we doin boys? We gonna make it?" The dining room is packed. Stoves are full. The oven is making a horrible sound, and the sautee guy isn't happy about it. The wood isn't burning nicely, and as each minute ticks by, it seems like you can actually hear everyone's blood pressure rising. Line up is a mess, and the grill guy didn't know that he had the fish special tonight. In the minutes before service starts, everyone gets very quiet. My heart is racing, and a scowl has appeared on my forehead.

At 5:58, there is no looking back. The cooks race around, filling their water cups, washing down stations, or going to the bathroom. As we pass each other, we take a moment to look each other in the eye, and slap hands.

"See you in seven hours."

"Have a good ride."

"Try not to fuck it all up tonight."

"Love you long time big boy."

And sometimes it's just a nod, or a pat on the back. But why say goodbye?

When a cook is in service, they change. The basic traits and qualities (or flaws) remain, but they are amplified. Adrenaline starts to flow, and the rush doesn't stop for hours. Everyone bounces around, and all sorts of ticks start to show. (I flick my fingers back and forth, Ponder twists and dances, Paulie spins) This combination of overt confidence, adrenaline, and fear makes a sickening stew that manifests itself though cussing, insults, and glares. It might look like a ballet to you, but to us it mostly feels like a fist fight. If you were to take your favorite sports team, and have them bone down with an expert carpenter and a talented architect, you would be left with the bastard quintuplets that make your food. And they aren't always nice to each other.

The good news is that once the first few tickets start to come in, everyone settles a bit. Hopefully a rhythm develops, and by the end of it all there are pats on the backs, and smiles. Every now and again though, things go sour, and two cooks that might be great friends outside the kitchen turn on each other. Or the sous might light up a cook, and hours later the aftershock of that interaction can still be felt. At the end of the night though, a pro knows that the service is ancient history. It's time to move on, chat casually and have a beer. An amatuer holds onto all the bad feelings, and you can see their spirit collapse as time goes on.

We say goodbye because we're excited for the moment when you get to see our friends again. We say goodbye because it's a sign of respect and friendship. And it's comforting, because you know that the other cooks want to see the real you at the end of it all as well.

notes:

Merrell turned 40 this week. Happy birthday Merrell
If your purse is as big as a duffel bag, it might be too big
You just don't hear Flowers For Algernon jokes every day
Ask Corey about his sex chicken
You're fucking out Larry and Terry
If the Mongoose thinks you're running a scam, you probably are
tights are not pants.
Carrots and ras el hanout are best friends
If you end up chatting with an AT&T mobile phone policy maker, kick him or her in the shin for me
When you get home from a strip club, the first thing you need to do is take a shower
I'm in this article about twitter with Ruth Reichl and Daniel Patterson

quotes and conversations

Corey: If you do a good job, come over and we can play anal tongue darts.
Merrell: Can I go first?

"If this turns out to be a throwdown with Bobby Flay, i'm gonna be pissed."
-Chef. Food network visited this week

Me: Should we ask Al to be on our softball team?
Corey: Yeah, we could use a scorekeeper.

"I was looking in SFGate to see if anyone got murdered last night."
-Maritess. Concerned about guests.

"Some words I have a hard saying."
-Goose. Has a hard saying sometimes.

"I don't have a penis!"
-Merrell.

"You know what I did today? I woke up, made oatmeal. And coffee. Boned down, then went to Outer Sunset for dim sum. Shaved, then came here."
-Goose. Had a busy morning.

Me: What are you taking pictures for?
Kim: You take pictures all the time!
Me: Yeah, for my website.

from top: tools, salty duck pancetta, spill, pasta, leg of lamb, spring is here, ponderdinner, cupcake, i love salad, the dr., radishes, food network, cozy, maritess, calamari