tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-48168294584039394882024-03-13T21:03:13.209-07:00line cook.cooking restaurants lifeRichiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09941245006346350955noreply@blogger.comBlogger147125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4816829458403939488.post-10601262300626562472012-07-22T12:04:00.002-07:002012-07-22T12:04:42.688-07:00Our Kickstarter Update<a href="http://kck.st/NvgbNJ">10 Days to go on our project and we're 25% funded.</a> This project has been a rewarding collaboration between friends and its been amazing to see who has made videos, pledged, and helped spread the word. We still have a ways to go, but the experience thus far has been...fulfilling. <br />
<br />
Everyday we're updating the project with new videos from friends and our extended family talking about why theyre backing our project. In some cases its a famous chef, in other cases its a farmer, or just a regular customer. Today's video features Victor Alvarado.<br />
<br />
Vic and I used to be Hapa Ramen. 2 of us. We had no idea what we were doing, We worked 16 hour days 7 days a week for months. He was a brand new cook back then, and I raked him over the coals every day. He was tenacious, exceedingly positive, and turned into a different person during the course of that first year. Then he headed off to my alma mater, Nopa to work the grill, slug out 500 cover services, and be a part of one of the greatest kitchens in San Francisco. <br />
<br />
And now he's coming back to us to help open Hapa. <br />
<br />
Check out his video and the others, spread the word, and pledge if you can. Every dollar counts.<br />
<br />
Also, he can skate like a maniac. <br />
<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="281" mozallowfullscreen="" src="http://player.vimeo.com/video/23251330" webkitallowfullscreen="" width="500"></iframe><br />
<br />Richiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09941245006346350955noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4816829458403939488.post-53450265817798832402012-07-17T10:14:00.002-07:002012-07-17T10:14:39.952-07:00Hapa's Kickstarter CampaignTwo years and change into the life of Hapa Ramen, and we are nearing completion on our tiny little noodle shop. My first restaurant. The culmination of all those days of slinging noodles in the rain, hauling stoves and stock pots around, and hustling as hard as we could to feed the masses. Hapa has been without a doubt the most difficult thing that I've ever done in my life. But with all of the trials and tribulations has come some of the greatest rewards. The people I've met and worked with, the guests that we have fed...it's been life changing.
So now linecook reader, I ask for your support. <a href="http://www.kickstarter.com/profile/haparamen">If this blog has meant anything to you, or helped you along the way, then please share the link or support our kick starter</a> campaign to help us make our restaurants kitchen come alive. The past two years have been murder on our equipment, and with your support we can upgrade and start phase 2 of Hapa's young life. Any little bit helps, be it a retweet, or a pledge.
Thanks.
Richie NakanoRichiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09941245006346350955noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4816829458403939488.post-81186437950259814212012-01-02T23:19:00.000-08:002012-01-03T22:14:42.166-08:00Chaos.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.<br />
<br />
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.<br />
<br />
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.<br />
<br />
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.<br />
<br />
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? <br />
<br />
<br />
notes<br />
<ul>
<li>i just realized last week--almost all of the people in my life currently are people that create/make things...</li>
<li>new york. different this last time around</li>
<li>dj shadows the less you know, the better is brilliant</li>
<li>im deeply grateful for Coi, because I cant really see it existing in any other city besides SF</li>
<li>Svet thinks we should do a podcast</li>
<li>Mostly this felt incoherent, but like Violet says, sometimes you have to write</li>
<li>Kids crying. Gotta go.</li>
</ul>
<br />
<br />Richiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09941245006346350955noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4816829458403939488.post-83463379970326318822011-05-23T21:33:00.000-07:002011-05-25T00:24:24.691-07:00What happened, part 1.<span style="font-family: times new roman;font-size:100%;" >8/25/08<br />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." <br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">This will wind up being the dumbest thing I have ever said in my entire life.</span><br /><br />8/31/2009<br /><a href="http://linecook415.blogspot.com/2009/08/new-york.html">Coming back from a vacation to New York</a>, 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.<br />Standing with my Chef as he loads his car for an off-site event, I tell him the whole story, then mutter this:<br /><br />"I think im gonna open a ramen spot."<br />"I think that's a good idea. Do you have a name?"<br />"Yeah. Im gonna call it Hapa Ramen."<br /><br />6/16/2010<br />I have planned poorly.<br /><br />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:<br /></span><ul style="font-family: times new roman;"><li>cooking is easy. driving around picking up everything because you dont have proper accounts set up with vendors is really fucking hard</li><li>making 300 portions of noodles all by yourself takes a very, very long time.</li><li>fuck that. prepping for 300 covers all by yourself, no matter what it is, more or less sucks.</li><li>going out for tequila on monday was a mistake</li><li>strippers are less than reliable, especially when youre not paying them.</li></ul><span style="font-family: times new roman;">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.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: times new roman; font-weight: bold;">I. Am. Fucked.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: times new roman;">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. </span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: times new roman;">Nothing would ever be hard again? Seriously. What the fuck.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: times new roman;">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.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: times new roman;font-size:100%;" > </span>Richiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09941245006346350955noreply@blogger.com16tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4816829458403939488.post-8463637678102982782010-12-30T23:32:00.001-08:002010-12-30T23:32:18.258-08:002010, you were a motherfucker.<div xmlns='http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml'><font face='Courier New'>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.<br/><br/>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.<br/><br/>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.<br/><br/>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.<br/><br/>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.<br/><br/><img src='http://farm6.static.flickr.com/5044/5255882224_173c0ac4db_m.jpg' style='max-width: 800px;'/><img src='http://farm6.static.flickr.com/5047/5255886754_f33f182f05_m.jpg' style='max-width: 800px;'/><img src='http://farm6.static.flickr.com/5164/5255232987_883f872ebd_m.jpg' style='max-width: 800px;'/><img src='http://farm6.static.flickr.com/5130/5255868322_9cacd3dfd0_m.jpg' style='max-width: 800px;'/><img src='http://farm5.static.flickr.com/4061/5142258292_6c1de4ffc2_m.jpg' style='max-width: 800px;'/><img src='http://farm2.static.flickr.com/1185/5141652949_3913f7ee3f_m.jpg' style='max-width: 800px;'/><img src='http://farm5.static.flickr.com/4147/5024362255_0ddc8f0286_m.jpg' style='max-width: 800px;'/><img src='http://farm5.static.flickr.com/4075/4919156428_b51782d931_m.jpg' style='max-width: 800px;'/><img src='http://farm5.static.flickr.com/4099/4792721180_86e443f4c0_m.jpg' style='max-width: 800px;'/><img src='http://farm5.static.flickr.com/4028/4697215966_47b26ece44_m.jpg' style='max-width: 800px;'/><img src='http://farm5.static.flickr.com/4005/4500829325_132ffec78c_m.jpg' style='max-width: 800px;'/><img src='http://farm5.static.flickr.com/4015/4634637961_51ee54c913_m.jpg' style='max-width: 800px;'/><br/>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<br/><br/><img src='http://farm6.static.flickr.com/5164/5255232987_883f872ebd_m.jpg' style='max-width: 800px;'/><br/></font><br/><br/><div class='zemanta-pixie'><img src='http://img.zemanta.com/pixy.gif?x-id=e5ec11cc-15fe-87ff-9943-f522b9dbef43' alt='' class='zemanta-pixie-img'/></div></div>Richiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09941245006346350955noreply@blogger.com21tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4816829458403939488.post-70011417918564999752010-08-26T22:57:00.001-07:002010-08-26T22:57:50.865-07:00some old stuff.<div xmlns='http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml'><font face='Courier New'>a single note:<br/><br/>this blog isnt dead. it's not going away, its not over. here's some stuff that's just been sitting here for months.</font><font face='Courier New'><br/><br/><big><big><big><big><u><b><small>quotes and conversations. </small><br/><br/></b></u></big></big></big></big><br/><br/><b>Me</b>: Is your back still fucked up?<br/><b>Goose</b>: I think it's my hip.<br/><b>Me</b>: You know what's good for that?<br/><b>Maritess: </b>Boning down.<br/><b>Goose</b>: Boning down nasty style.<br/><b>Me</b>: Yoga. Geez you guys.<br/><br/><b>Dega</b>: Have you ever been to Cony Island? <br/><b>Me</b>: No.<br/><b>Dega</b>: They have this game there called shoot the freak. You shoot this raver with purple hair.<br/><b>Me</b>: Yeah, but it's different now.<br/><b>Dega</b>: It is?<br/><b>Me</b>: Yeah. Now it's called shoot the hipster. And instead its some asshole with a red beanie and a fixie.<br/><b>Dega</b>: I hate you.<br/><br/>"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."<br/>-<b>Maritess</b><br/><br/>"Come on Pito, show me your dark side. You know, I don't think it's that dark. I think it's kinda white."<br/>-<b>Camaal</b>, talking to Eddie.<br/><br/><b>Merrell</b>: Gerardo, you look like Julius Ceasar. <br/><b>Gerardo</b>: Does that make you wanna fuck me?<br/><br/><b>Eddie</b>: Hey Dega. <br/><b>Dega</b>: Yeah.<br/><b>Eddie</b>: Guess what i'm gonna do tomorrow?<br/><b>Dega</b>: What?<br/><b>Eddie</b>: Bone down regular style. <br/><b>Gerardo</b>: Regular.<br/><br/><b>Me</b>: Camaal, you don't want to lose ten pounds. You'll look like Eddie.<br/><b>Camaal</b>: I don't wanna look like Eddie.<br/><b>Me</b>: No.<br/><b>Eddie</b>: What. Are you talking about my stinky pussy?<br/><br/>(<i><b>Merell</b> and I are bickering. I pass her a pan of chickens mid argument.</i>)<br/><b>Me</b>: And take your fucking cock, because its the only kind you're getting!<br/><b>Merrell</b>: Well...I don't have anything to say to that. So fuck you.<br/><br/><b>Eddie</b>: Here's a good one. Wanna know how much of a pussy I am? I cried through the entire movie "Up."<br/><b>Me</b>: (<i>Hysterical laughing</i>)<br/><b>Merrell</b>: Why are you volunteering this information?<br/><b>Eddie</b>: Have you seen it? It's a very touching movie.<br/><b>Al</b>: Fire back 40.<br/><b>Me</b>: I'm sorry Al, I couldn't hear you because I was too busy laughing about Eddie crying through the entire movie "Up."<br/><b>Maritess</b>: Have you seen it? It's a very touching movie.<br/><br/><img src='http://farm5.static.flickr.com/4003/4477260338_9b8f408252_m.jpg' style='max-width: 800px;'/><img src='http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2754/4476490589_e07e481a7b_m.jpg' style='max-width: 800px;'/><img src='http://farm5.static.flickr.com/4030/4476489291_50dc6c66cc_m.jpg' style='max-width: 800px;'/><img src='http://farm5.static.flickr.com/4042/4477263496_34121452d4_m.jpg' style='max-width: 800px;'/><img src='http://farm5.static.flickr.com/4056/4477262530_f909fa574f_m.jpg' style='max-width: 800px;'/><img src='http://farm5.static.flickr.com/4005/4476486571_a443c241f7_m.jpg' style='max-width: 800px;'/><img src='http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2698/4477261822_0a2f19c871_m.jpg' style='max-width: 800px;'/><img src='http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2762/4476485663_97e3682a95_m.jpg' style='max-width: 800px;'/><img src='http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2702/4477258690_371786a5f0_m.jpg' style='max-width: 800px;'/><img src='http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2700/4419953405_de4f87d214_m.jpg' style='max-width: 800px;'/><img src='http://farm5.static.flickr.com/4023/4476490079_51d9c6c1be_m.jpg' style='max-width: 800px;'/><br/>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.<br/></font><br/><br/><div class='zemanta-pixie'><img src='http://img.zemanta.com/pixy.gif?x-id=bb64c411-ae9e-8677-9e0e-bd6a927a4fd0' alt='' class='zemanta-pixie-img'/></div></div>Richiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09941245006346350955noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4816829458403939488.post-79779867736221783032010-03-09T11:44:00.001-08:002010-03-09T11:44:19.970-08:00The stage. A guide.<div xmlns='http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml'><b><span class='status-body'><span class='entry-content'>Question of the week/fill in the blanks: on a stage, you should ___. On a stage you should not ___. What makes a good stagiere?</span></span></b><br/><span class='status-body'><strong><a class='tweet-url screen-name' href='http://twitter.com/amigadehelado'>amigadehelado</a></strong><span class='entry-content'>@<a href='http://twitter.com/linecook' class='tweet-url username'>linecook</a>a stage should pay attention, ask questions, taste things. Get out of the way when neccessary. Don't set stage hours by a "clock"</span></span><br/><span class='status-body'><strong><a class='tweet-url screen-name' href='http://twitter.com/Tanukipdx'>Tanukipdx</a></strong><span class='entry-content'>@<a href='http://twitter.com/linecook' class='tweet-url username'>linecook</a> once had a stage grab my favorite yanagiba ($$$$Japanese slicer) and cut themselves a piece of bread w/it. end of stage.</span></span><br/><span class='status-body'><strong><a class='tweet-url screen-name' href='http://twitter.com/Tanukipdx'>Tanukipdx</a></strong><span class='entry-content'>@<a href='http://twitter.com/linecook' class='tweet-url username'>linecook</a> a good stage silently&invisibly gets stuff done...like a little mise en place fairy. a bad stage snacks on people's mise</span></span><br/><span class='status-body'><strong><a class='tweet-url screen-name' href='http://twitter.com/Benjamin_Parks'>Benjamin_Parks</a></strong><span class='entry-content'>@<a href='http://twitter.com/linecook' class='tweet-url username'>linecook</a>On a stage you quietly take notes You should not start telling your glory stories of all the other restaurants you have worked in.</span></span><br/><span class='status-body'><strong><a class='tweet-url screen-name' href='http://twitter.com/tournant'>tournant</a></strong><span class='entry-content'>@<a href='http://twitter.com/linecook' class='tweet-url username'>linecook</a> -should//STFU, do what we tell yo, stay out of the way...should not//show off your skull n knives tattoo, hit on servers</span></span><br/><span class='status-body'><strong><a class='tweet-url screen-name' href='http://twitter.com/adoxograph'>adoxograph</a></strong><span class='entry-content'>@<a href='http://twitter.com/linecook' class='tweet-url username'>linecook</a> on a stage you should absorb and remember the best and worst of what you see, esp little details</span></span><br/><span class='status-body'><strong><a class='tweet-url screen-name' href='http://twitter.com/adoxograph'>adoxograph</a></strong><span class='entry-content'>@<a href='http://twitter.com/linecook' class='tweet-url username'>linecook</a>on 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)</span></span><br/><span class='status-body'><strong><a class='tweet-url screen-name' href='http://twitter.com/PrixFixeOnline'>PrixFixeOnline</a></strong><span class='entry-content'>@<a href='http://twitter.com/linecook' class='tweet-url username'>linecook</a>You should work your arse off, you should not stand around after finishing a task. Always ask chef for next task, speed is a must.</span></span><br/><span class='status-body'><strong><a class='tweet-url screen-name' href='http://twitter.com/jrnavlag'>jrnavlag</a></strong><span class='entry-content'>@<a href='http://twitter.com/linecook' class='tweet-url username'>linecook</a> U should work and learn. U should not let the pay or lack of it be your drive.</span></span> Do your research. Then shut up about it.<br/><span class='status-body'><strong><a class='tweet-url screen-name' href='http://twitter.com/ingridc'>ingridc</a></strong><span class='entry-content'>@<a href='http://twitter.com/linecook' class='tweet-url username'>linecook</a>You should shut up, be nice, listen and follow directions. You should not touch a cook's mise unless asked. Or get mouthy, ever.</span></span><br/><span class='status-body'><strong><a class='tweet-url screen-name' href='http://twitter.com/ingridc'>ingridc</a></strong><span class='entry-content'>@<a href='http://twitter.com/linecook' class='tweet-url username'>linecook</a> 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 <a class='tweet-url hashtag' title='#dieinafire' href='http://twitter.com/search?q=%23dieinafire'>#dieinafire</a></span></span><br/><span class='status-body'><strong><a class='tweet-url screen-name' href='http://twitter.com/randomplacement'>randomplacement</a></strong><span class='entry-content'>@<a href='http://twitter.com/linecook' class='tweet-url username'>linecook</a> a good stage contributes to the team and fits in with the team</span></span><br/><span class='status-body'><strong><a class='tweet-url screen-name' href='http://twitter.com/randomplacement'>randomplacement</a></strong><span class='entry-content'>@<a href='http://twitter.com/linecook' class='tweet-url username'>linecook</a> work and learn, run your mouth</span></span><br/><span class='status-body'><strong><a class='tweet-url screen-name' href='http://twitter.com/Gchef703'>Gchef703</a></strong><span class='entry-content'>@<a href='http://twitter.com/linecook' class='tweet-url username'>linecook</a> What makes a good stagiere? Hard-Working, Humble, Passionate person who Loves food and is willing to do anything to learn!</span></span><br/><span class='status-body'><strong><a class='tweet-url screen-name' href='http://twitter.com/Gchef703'>Gchef703</a></strong><span class='entry-content'>@<a href='http://twitter.com/linecook' class='tweet-url username'>linecook</a><br/>you should not Be a Pre Madonna!!! Should not be late, ask for days<br/>off, breaks or a special jacket to show off to your friends</span></span><br/><span class='status-body'><strong><a class='tweet-url screen-name' href='http://twitter.com/Gchef703'>Gchef703</a></strong><span class='entry-content'>@<a href='http://twitter.com/linecook' class='tweet-url username'>linecook</a> you should Be a Sponge Listen! Learn! and ask a million questions even if they are stupid questions. ask em!</span></span><br/><br/>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:<br/><br/>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?<br/><br/><b>Prep:</b><br/>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:<br/><br/>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.<br/>"Um. What's all that shit for?"<br/>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. <br/><br/><b>Service:</b><br/>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.<br/>"Alright. We're going on 7 fish and 6 scallops. We'll go together, ok? You take the scallop dish."<br/>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:<br/><br/>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.<br/><br/>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.<br/><br/>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.<br/><br/><br/><font face='serif'><b><big><big><big><big><big>notes</big></big>.</big></big></big></b><br/></font><ul><li><font face='serif'>that's not bechamel.</font></li><li><font face='serif'>holy shit! I updated finally!</font></li><li><font face='serif'>podcasts are coming back. no really. they are.</font></li><li><font face='serif'>get some rest.</font></li><li><font face='serif'>burrito<br/></font></li></ul><ul><li><font face='serif'>stepping into an open grease trap means youll probably need new shoes.</font></li><li><font face='serif'>that's pasta water. not a deep fryer.</font></li><li><font face='serif'>fish & farm seems like its becoming the new industry night off spot</font></li></ul><br/><font face='Courier New'><u><b><big><big><big>Quotes and Conversations. </big></big></big></b></u></font><br/><br/><font face='Courier New'><b>Me, to Gerardo</b>: Hey dude. Tell your partner if he mouths off to me again, im gonna tie him up.<br/><b>Eddie</b>: Shhiiiiiiieeeeeett. You wish! You wish you could enter the dungeon!<br/><br/><i>(I pinch Eddie's nipple.)</i><br/><b>Eddie</b>: Hey dude! Not the nipples!<br/><b>Me</b>: Oh, im gonna get the nipples.<br/><b>Eddie</b>: (<i>pause</i>) I'm...ticklish.<br/><br/><b>Me</b>: You can call him a pussy if you want to.<br/><b>Eddie</b>: I don't want to call him a pussy. That would be the pot calling the kettle black.<br/><br/><b>Me</b>: Eddie. Want me to give you a hand massage?<br/><b>Eddie</b>: No.<br/><b>Me</b>: With my balls?<br/><b>Eddie</b>: That's not a massage.<br/><br/><b>Goose</b>: Those new light fixtures are bad. The block looks good now.<br/><b>Me</b>: Yeah dude, they're nice.<br/><b>Eddie</b>: And they reduce light pollution.<br/><b>Me</b>: Fuck off Ed Begley Jr.<br/><b>Goose</b>: Get the fuck outta here with that shit.<br/><b>Eddie</b>: Did you know I can ruin any conversation?<br/><br/>"I'm a human snuggie. You wrap me around you and watch t.v. I come in different colors. But mostly white."<br/>-<b>Corey</b>. Human snuggie.<br/><br/><b>Gerardo</b>: Can I borrow your skimmer thingy?<br/><b>Merrell</b>: It's called a spider.<br/><b>Gerardo</b>: I know a guy named spider.<br/><br/><b>Me</b>: Elton John has hairless balls? What?<br/><b>Goose and Dega</b>: I have hairless balls!<br/><b>Me</b>: I hate you guys.<br/><br/><b>Me</b>: Would you bone down with a guy that wears a lot of gold jewelry?<br/><b>Dega</b>: How much gold jewelry?<br/><b>Me</b>: A lot.<br/><b>Dega</b>: Hell yeah. Mr. T?<br/><b>Me</b>: You'd bone down with Mr. T?<br/><br/><b>Me:</b> Wouldn't that be cool? If you had a hinge on your balls? You could move them like this.<br/><b>Goose</b>: Yeah. But then you'd have to grease them. You wouldn't want squeaky balls.<br/><br/><b>Merrell</b>: My stomach is getting flat. See?<br/>(<i>Gerardo is watching the conversation.</i>)<br/><b>Merrell</b>: This doesn't concern you Gerardo.<br/><b>Gerardo</b>: I was watching you touch yourself.<br/><br/>"I evaluate every stripper on a case by case basis."<br/>-<b>Eddie</b>.<br/><br/><b>Eddie</b>: You missed out. I brought candy yesterday.<br/><b>Corey</b>: What are you? A pervert? Halloween's over bro.<br/><br/><b>Eddie</b>: I think old people are cute. I saw some old people going into Good Vibrations...<br/><b>Corey</b>: Stop. Stop. Sentences should not include old people and Good Vibrations.<br/><br/><i>(Jamie is feeling my abs.)</i><br/><b>Jamie</b>: You should feel his abs. It's impressive. <br/><b>Merrell</b>: I'd rather feel yours. (Jamie walks away)<br/><b>Merrell</b>: Was that weird?<br/><br/>(<i>Merrell walks into the corner of the stove.</i>)<br/><b>Me</b>: Did you just jab your pussy with the oven?<br/><b>Merrell</b>: Yes. Even though I don't have balls, it still hurts.<br/><b>Me</b>: Graceful. You're a real pageant queen.<br/><b>Merrell</b>: I'm a fuckin lady.<br/><br/><img src='http://farm5.static.flickr.com/4054/4276416184_d814b43e8c_m.jpg' style='max-width: 800px;'/><img src='http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2709/4284015387_8ac12ebe63_m.jpg' style='max-width: 800px;'/><img src='http://farm5.static.flickr.com/4007/4276416846_a1e837cda8_m.jpg' style='max-width: 800px;'/><img src='http://farm5.static.flickr.com/4036/4322100536_24012d847f_m.jpg' style='max-width: 800px;'/><img src='http://farm5.static.flickr.com/4072/4322104054_2b21ebfb87_m.jpg' style='max-width: 800px;'/><img src='http://farm5.static.flickr.com/4061/4340539218_f5dcb39509_m.jpg' style='max-width: 800px;'/><img src='http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2719/4340538108_ed57a46a75_m.jpg' style='max-width: 800px;'/><img src='http://farm5.static.flickr.com/4064/4355044315_f1e5328ac2_m.jpg' style='max-width: 800px;'/><img src='http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2763/4340540916_28267b5c4c_m.jpg' style='max-width: 800px;'/><br/>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</font><br/><br/><div class='zemanta-pixie'><img src='http://img.zemanta.com/pixy.gif?x-id=ccd3c3db-fab2-8001-87fc-e5078a723b23' alt='' class='zemanta-pixie-img'/></div></div>Richiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09941245006346350955noreply@blogger.com14tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4816829458403939488.post-91177808711770137922010-01-18T12:06:00.001-08:002010-01-18T12:09:07.236-08:00Composure.<div xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml"><span class="status-body"><span class="entry-content">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?</span></span><br /><span class="status-body"><strong><a title="Jen" class="tweet-url screen-name" href="http://twitter.com/CookhouseSF">CookhouseSF</a></strong><span class="entry-content">@<a href="http://twitter.com/linecook" class="tweet-url username">linecook</a> As one of the latter I'd like to work with the former</span><br /> <span class="meta entry-meta"></span><span class="status-body"><strong><a title="Kelly Ng" class="tweet-url screen-name" href="http://twitter.com/KellyNg1">KellyNg1</a></strong><span class="entry-content">@<a href="http://twitter.com/linecook" class="tweet-url username">linecook</a> i would take slower over sloppy anyday. seems easier to speed up a nice slow snail than to tame a rabid slob.</span></span><br /><span class="status-body"><strong><a title="Kyle Wilkinson" class="tweet-url screen-name" href="http://twitter.com/KyleCWilkinson">KyleCWilkinson</a></strong><span class="entry-content">@<a href="http://twitter.com/linecook" class="tweet-url username">linecook</a> Fast and out of control. Would balance my slower and more composed workstyle. </span></span><br /><span class="status-body"><strong><a title="Neil Davidson" class="tweet-url screen-name" href="http://twitter.com/theNeilD">theNeilD</a></strong><span class="entry-content">@<a href="http://twitter.com/linecook" class="tweet-url username">linecook</a> What about fast and composed with poise; that's true talent. Those are the people that make you better.</span></span><br /><span class="status-body"><strong><a title="DJ Larkin" class="tweet-url screen-name" href="http://twitter.com/aphexplotz">aphexplotz</a></strong><span class="entry-content">@<a href="http://twitter.com/linecook" class="tweet-url username">linecook</a> Slow and composed. I've worked with both, and I'd rather be down one than have someone I can't predict or control.</span></span><br /><span class="status-body"><strong><a title="rupert" class="tweet-url screen-name" href="http://twitter.com/rupski23">rupski23</a></strong><span class="entry-content">@<a href="http://twitter.com/linecook" class="tweet-url username">linecook</a><br />composed and in control. no question about it. the kitchen is crazy enough that if your leader is spazzing then its gonna be bad..</span></span><br /><span class="status-body"><strong><a title="The Fatted Calf" class="tweet-url screen-name" href="http://twitter.com/FattedCalf">FattedCalf</a></strong><span class="entry-content">@<a href="http://twitter.com/linecook" class="tweet-url username">linecook</a>Composed. Definitely composed. In my experience, people who go too fast and don't think can really put a banana in the tailpipe.</span><br /> <span class="meta entry-meta"></span><span class="status-body"><strong><a title="dave e" class="tweet-url screen-name" href="http://twitter.com/tournant">tournant</a></strong><span class="entry-content">@<a href="http://twitter.com/linecook" class="tweet-url username">linecook</a> slow/in control, for sure. fast/out of control=messy, doesn't listen, takes shortcuts</span></span><br /><span class="status-body"><strong><a title="Guy Arnone" class="tweet-url screen-name" href="http://twitter.com/GuyArnone">GuyArnone</a></strong><span class="entry-content">@<a href="http://twitter.com/linecook" class="tweet-url username">linecook</a> fast&out of control = slow for the extra time spent fixing Speedy's mistakes.</span></span><br /><span class="status-body"><strong><a title="Kevin Sandri" class="tweet-url screen-name" href="http://twitter.com/gardenstatechef">gardenstatechef</a></strong><span class="entry-content">@<a href="http://twitter.com/linecook" class="tweet-url username">linecook</a> what's the end product? give me speed and insanity if the plates are perfect.</span></span><br /><span class="status-body"><strong><a title="jesachrist" class="tweet-url screen-name" href="http://twitter.com/jesachrist">jesachrist</a></strong><span class="entry-content">@<a href="http://twitter.com/linecook" class="tweet-url username">linecook</a> slower and controlled. Working too fast creates more problems than it solves, and in the long run slows down everyone</span></span><br /><span class="status-body"><strong><a title="Chris Larkin" class="tweet-url screen-name" href="http://twitter.com/most_impressive">most_impressive</a></strong><span class="entry-content">@<a href="http://twitter.com/linecook" class="tweet-url username">linecook</a> Slower, but in control. Speed can be taught, but accuracy and commitment to perfection is more valuable, IMO.</span></span><br /><span class="status-body"><strong><a title="The NPA" class="tweet-url screen-name" href="http://twitter.com/TheNPA">TheNPA</a></strong><span class="entry-content">@<a href="http://twitter.com/linecook" class="tweet-url username">linecook</a> All headway gained by being fast is lost in the ER while the Doc stitches Speedy Gonzales back up.</span></span><br /><span class="status-body"><strong><a title="MatthewSievert" class="tweet-url screen-name" href="http://twitter.com/MatthewSievert">MatthewSievert</a></strong><span class="entry-content">@<a href="http://twitter.com/linecook" class="tweet-url username">linecook</a> in it to win it baby. Planning will allow for swift execution.</span></span><br /><span class="status-body"><strong><a title="Cooker Guy" class="tweet-url screen-name" href="http://twitter.com/cookerguy">cookerguy</a></strong><span class="entry-content">@<a href="http://twitter.com/linecook" class="tweet-url username">linecook</a> Slower and composed, just not too slow. Fast and out of control disrupts others as well.</span></span><br /><span class="status-body"><strong><a title="Ingrid" class="tweet-url screen-name" href="http://twitter.com/ingridc">ingridc</a></strong><span class="entry-content">@<a href="http://twitter.com/linecook" class="tweet-url username">linecook</a><br />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.</span></span><br /><span class="status-body"><strong><a title="Ingrid" class="tweet-url screen-name" href="http://twitter.com/ingridc">ingridc</a></strong><span class="entry-content">@<a href="http://twitter.com/linecook" class="tweet-url username">linecook</a> (and for the record I've been both quite enough, thanks!)</span></span><br /><span class="status-body"><strong><a title="Benjamin Parks" class="tweet-url screen-name" href="http://twitter.com/Benjamin_Parks">Benjamin_Parks</a></strong><span class="entry-content">@<a href="http://twitter.com/linecook" class="tweet-url username">linecook</a> Slower but in control. Chaos always creates more work (cleaning, fixing, etc), so quick chaos just produces more work faster.</span></span><br /><span class="status-body"><strong><a title="Chad Newton" class="tweet-url screen-name" href="http://twitter.com/cnewton9">cnewton9</a></strong> <span class="actions"><span class="entry-content">@<a href="http://twitter.com/linecook" class="tweet-url username">linecook</a>neither, I always try to teach the kids that efficiency=speed vs accuracy, fast but sloppy no good, slow but perfect also no bueno</span></span><br /><span class="status-body"><strong><a title="Joseph Guinto" class="tweet-url screen-name" href="http://twitter.com/Gchef703">Gchef703</a></strong><span class="entry-content">@<a href="http://twitter.com/linecook" class="tweet-url username">linecook</a> Slow,Composed and in control FTW! They can always gain speed later. But sometimes speed is what you need! good question.</span></span><br /><span class="status-body"><strong><a title="Kathy Skutecki" class="tweet-url screen-name" href="http://twitter.com/stresscake">stresscake</a></strong><span class="entry-content">@<a href="http://twitter.com/linecook" class="tweet-url username">linecook</a>absolutely slow composed and in control. Frenzy causes stressful miserable work environment. Calmness is more productive over LT</span></span><br /><br />Jerry:<br />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.<br /><br />Denise:<br />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.<br /><br />Mark:<br />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.<br /><br />Jen:<br />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.<br />"It's just food, right? Why panic? I'm not doing open chest surgery or anything."<br /><br />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. <br /><br />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."<br /><br />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.<br /><br />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.<br /><br />So how do you deal wih it? Where do you find your place of balance? How do you compose yourself when things get crazy?<br /><br /><br /><span style="font-family:arial;"><big><big><big><big><u><b>Notes</b></u></big></big></big></big>:<br /></span><ul><li><span style="font-family:arial;">That G-Shock lasted a hard 10 years on my wrist. I washed it by putting it through the dishwasher.</span></li><li><span style="font-family:arial;">If the girl is more Ghost World than Mean Girls, it's probably a good thing.</span></li><li><span style="font-family:arial;">When someone says they did a "stint" in a kitchen, what the fuck does that mean?</span></li><li><span style="font-family:arial;">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.</span></li><li><span style="font-family:arial;">Ingrid writes some good stuff.</span></li><li><span style="font-family:arial;">What's harder to live with: Regret or shame?</span></li><li><span style="font-family:arial;">Podcasts. Really fucking up the whole podcast thing this time around.</span></li><li><span style="font-family:arial;">the howbadcanitget blog could be very hilarious.</span></li><li><span style="font-family:arial;">pastry chefs for the culinary fantasy league. taking nominations now. (amy brown, luis villavelazquez, william werner, bill corbett, melissa chou...who else?)</span><br /></li></ul><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"><b><u><big><big><big><big>quotes and conversations.</big></big></big></big></u></b></span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"><b>Goose</b>: Aaah!<br /><b>Eddie</b>: Did I startle you?<br /><b>Goose</b>: Nah, I just didn't know you had that much ass.<br /><b>Eddie</b>: I got a badonkadonk. Where do you think all the hot dogs go?<br /><b>Goose</b>: (<i>laughs</i>)<br /><b>Eddie</b>: Put <i>that</i> on your blog.<br /><b>Me</b>: Oh, i'm going to asshole. That's one of the dumbest things you've ever said.<br /><br /><b>Me</b>: If you could bone down with a dolphin, would you do it?<br /><b>Dega</b>: I had a dream that I was swimming with dolphins the other night. You just reminded me.<br /><br />"I don't like thongs. Does that make me gay?"<br />-<b>Dega</b>. <br /><br /><b>Me</b>: If we were on ecstasy, would you suck my toes?<br /><b>Corey</b>: Probably.<br /><b>Goose</b>: I would watch if I were on E.<br /><b>Corey</b>: <i>That</i> would make you gay.<br /><br /><b>Dega</b>: 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.<br /><b>Me</b>: So did she give you syphilis before or after she showed you the tattoo?<br /><b>Dega</b>: Before.<br /><br /><b>Me</b>: Why do I always have to ask people to say "I love you" back to me?<br /><b>Goose</b>: I love you dude.<br /><b>Me</b>: Man fuck you Goose!<br /><br />"You know what this music sounds like? The music from Sim City."<br />-<b>Eddie</b>. <br /><br /><b>Me</b>: None of my underwear fits anymore.<br /><b>Amy</b>: What, your dick got smaller?<br /><br /><b>Me</b>: Would it be weird if I got stigmata out of my butt?<br /><b>Dega and Amy</b>: That's not stigmata!<br /><b>Corey</b>: It's called two piece Tuesday. It comes out in two pieces.<br /><br /><b>Me</b>: How did you come to pee on her?<br /><b>Dega</b>: She asked me to pee on her.<br /><b>Eddie</b>: We are living in an awesome time.<br /><b>Me</b>: Well it had to be in the shower, right?<br /><b>Eddie</b>: Was it in the shower?<br /><b>Dega</b>: No.<br /><br /><b>Me</b>: Eddie, if I asked you on a date, would you expect me to pay?<br /><b>Eddie</b>: Oh hell yes.<br /><b>Me</b>: Would you give me some action after?<br /><b>Eddie</b>: Yes. I might be a lot of things, but i'm no tease.<br /><br /><b>Me</b>: Man, this restaurant is way busier at Christmas time with that new Bloomingdale's down the street. (<i>pause</i>) Mongoose, there's no Bloomingdale's down the street.<br /><b>Goose</b>: What the fuck is a Bloomingdale's?<br /></span><img src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2776/4199701580_4c79e013f9_m.jpg" style="max-width: 800px;" /><img src="http://farm5.static.flickr.com/4007/4198944977_d03748b536_m.jpg" style="max-width: 800px;" /><img src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2512/4192857819_44c26903f1_m.jpg" style="max-width: 800px;" /><img src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2589/4193617466_0c1e74c967_m.jpg" style="max-width: 800px;" /><img src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2517/4193615632_01ff94c369_m.jpg" style="max-width: 800px;" /><img src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2712/4180054779_a547b117d9_m.jpg" style="max-width: 800px;" /><img src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2745/4180816894_0a23fdf8ed_m.jpg" style="max-width: 800px;" /><img src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2584/4180814918_9601af0b67_m.jpg" style="max-width: 800px;" /><img src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2726/4180050987_042c87df1a_m.jpg" style="max-width: 800px;" /><br />mer mer, through my cup, eating is fun, thats a dumb shirt, can head, tattoo, chef415?, mischief, a lot of data usage.<br /><br /><div class="zemanta-pixie"><img src="http://img.zemanta.com/pixy.gif?x-id=1984db26-7188-86e9-b2ea-9fed12f20e45" alt="" class="zemanta-pixie-img" /></div></span></span></span></div>Richiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09941245006346350955noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4816829458403939488.post-65960679225541570612009-12-29T11:43:00.001-08:002009-12-29T11:43:31.533-08:002009.<div xmlns='http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml'><big><font face='Times New Roman'>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.<br/><br/>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.<br/><br/>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.<br/><br/>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?</font></big><br/><br/><div align='center'><font face='sans-serif'><u><b>My Best Meals of 2009:</b></u><br/></font><ul><li><font face='sans-serif'>Coi</font></li><li><font face='sans-serif'>Flour & Water, every time</font></li><li><font face='sans-serif'>5 Points</font></li><li><font face='sans-serif'>Ippudo</font></li><li><font face='sans-serif'>Freeman's</font></li></ul><div align='center'><font face='sans-serif'><u><b>Places I Ate At, Often:</b></u><br/></font><ul><li><font face='sans-serif'>Flour & Water</font></li><li><font face='sans-serif'>Fish & Farm</font></li><li><font face='sans-serif'>Out the Door</font></li><li><font face='sans-serif'>Katana - Ya</font></li><li><font face='sans-serif'>Nopalito</font></li><li><font face='sans-serif'>Arguello Market</font></li></ul></div><font face='sans-serif'><u><b>Stuff I Couldn't Live Without:</b></u><br/></font><ul><li><font face='sans-serif'>A good pen</font></li><li><font face='sans-serif'>The iphone</font></li><li><font face='sans-serif'>My pocket knife</font></li><li><font face='sans-serif'>A Moleskin, even if it is falling apart</font></li><li><font face='sans-serif'>Friends</font></li><li><font face='sans-serif'>The Pixies, TV on the Radio, Old Outkast</font></li><li><font face='sans-serif'>Access to Twitter</font></li><li><font face='sans-serif'>Flickr</font></li><li><font face='sans-serif'>My Macbook</font></li></ul><font face='sans-serif'><u><b>Culinary Fantasy League:</b></u><br/>My Team:<br/></font><ul><li><font face='sans-serif'>Raw - Michael Black</font></li><li><font face='sans-serif'>Garde Manger - Jon Smulewitz</font></li><li><font face='sans-serif'>Pasta - Micheal Tusk</font></li><li><font face='sans-serif'>Veg/Garnish - Mourad Lalou</font></li><li><font face='sans-serif'>Fish - Stuart Brioza</font></li><li><font face='sans-serif'>Meat - Ryan Farr</font></li><li><font face='sans-serif'>Sous Chef - Daniel Patterson</font></li><li><font face='sans-serif'>Chef - Thomas Keller</font></li></ul><font face='sans-serif'><b><u>Eddie's Team:</u></b><br/></font><ul><li><font face='sans-serif'>Sautee - Charles Phan</font></li><li><font face='sans-serif'>Veg - Jeremy Fox</font></li><li><font face='sans-serif'>Garde Manger - Taylor Bottechier</font></li><li><font face='sans-serif'>Grill - Ryan Farr</font></li><li><font face='sans-serif'>Pasta - Tom McNaughton<br/></font></li><li><font face='sans-serif'>Sous Chef - Me (haha!)<br/></font></li><li><font face='sans-serif'>Chef - Jacques Pepin</font></li></ul><font face='sans-serif'><u><b>Mer-Mer's Team, based solely on looks:</b></u><br/></font><ul><li><font face='sans-serif'>Michael Black</font></li><li><font face='sans-serif'>Brandon Jew</font></li><li><font face='sans-serif'>Tom McNaughton</font></li><li><font face='sans-serif'>Jay Foster<br/></font></li><li><font face='sans-serif'>Mongoose</font></li></ul></div><big><big><big><u><b><font face='Courier New'>quotes and conversations:</font></b></u></big></big></big><br/><br/><font face='Courier New'><b>Me</b>: There's snowmobiles. And guns.<br/><b>Kitty</b>: Can we shoot guns while we're on the snowmobiles?<br/><b>Me</b>: I guess so.<br/><b>Kitty</b>: Wow. It's like a Mariah Carey video.<br/><br/>(<i>Merrell is hitting me in the shoulder, over and over again</i>)<br/><b>Paulie</b>: Isn't Savannah a pornstar?<br/><i>(The hitting continues)</i><br/><b>Me</b>: You know Paulie, not everything has to do with porn.<br/><i>(More hitting)</i><br/><b>Me</b>: What?!?<br/><b>Merrell</b>: It's Ryan Seacrest on seat three!<br/><b>Me</b>: Yeah. I know. Anyways...<br/><b>Merrell</b>: THIS! IS! AMERICAN! IDOL!<br/><br/><b>Me</b>: Do I look like a botanist to you?<br/><b>Gerardo</b>: I don't know what a botanist looks like.<br/><br/>"Mer-mer, if I gave you a titty twister and asked you to name five candy bars, could you do it?"<br/>-<b>Corey</b><br/><br/><b>Dega</b>: You're the boss.<br/><b>Me</b>: 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. <br/><b>Merrell</b>: And don't forget the numerous miscarraiges.<br/><b>Me</b>: .......<br/></font><img src='http://farm5.static.flickr.com/4004/4199699798_329aa8633f_m.jpg' style='max-width: 800px;'/><img src='http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2627/4199700450_24f099487d_m.jpg' style='max-width: 800px;'/><img src='http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2670/4192860507_aebbafc6d5_m.jpg' style='max-width: 800px;'/><img src='http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2622/4198951609_d078035e94_m.jpg' style='max-width: 800px;'/><img src='http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2619/4198951063_5e0b2ee649_m.jpg' style='max-width: 800px;'/><img src='http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2655/4180053735_0818049281_m.jpg' style='max-width: 800px;'/><img src='http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2755/4180052967_13555bedc1_m.jpg' style='max-width: 800px;'/><img src='http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2626/4198949893_835e00bb07_m.jpg' style='max-width: 800px;'/><br/><br/><br/><font face='serif'><small>"I thought of that old joke, y'know, the, this... this guy goes to a<br/>psychiatrist and says, "Doc, uh, my brother's crazy; he thinks he's a<br/>chicken." And, uh, the doctor says, "Well, why don't you turn him in?"<br/>The guy says, "I would, but I need the eggs." Well, I guess that's<br/>pretty much now how I feel about relationships; y'know, they're totally<br/>irrational, and crazy, and absurd, and... but, uh, I guess we keep<br/>goin' through it because, uh, most of us... need the eggs.</small></font>" <small><font face='serif'>-Woody Allen, Annie Hall</font></small><br/><br/><div class='zemanta-pixie'><img src='http://img.zemanta.com/pixy.gif?x-id=8631a386-9840-83c0-97b0-838983a7fb26' alt='' class='zemanta-pixie-img'/></div></div>Richiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09941245006346350955noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4816829458403939488.post-250075089410761772009-12-16T12:33:00.001-08:002009-12-16T12:38:56.035-08:00What is bad cooking?<div xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml"><span class="status-body"><strong>Question of the week: What is bad cooking?<br /><a title="Casey Wall" class="tweet-url screen-name" href="http://twitter.com/jusdeveau">jusdeveau</a></strong><span class="entry-content">@<a href="http://twitter.com/linecook" class="tweet-url username">linecook</a>, Bad cooking is usually doing something with little regard to the final outcome, but just to mark it off the prep list.<br /></span></span><span class="status-body"><strong><a title="Herschell Taghap" class="tweet-url screen-name" href="http://twitter.com/SpecialDark">SpecialDark</a></strong> <span class="actions"><span class="entry-content">@<a href="http://twitter.com/linecook" class="tweet-url username">linecook</a> What is bad cooking? Not shaving a second off a tedious task. Not learning anything new. Losing respect for the craft.</span></span><br /><span class="status-body"><strong><a title="rachel " class="tweet-url screen-name" href="http://twitter.com/zellicious">zellicious</a></strong><span class="entry-content">@<a href="http://twitter.com/linecook" class="tweet-url username">linecook</a> 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</span></span><br /><span class="status-body"><strong><a title="Roberto Navarro" class="tweet-url screen-name" href="http://twitter.com/jrnavlag">jrnavlag</a></strong><span class="entry-content">@<a href="http://twitter.com/linecook" class="tweet-url username">linecook</a>Bad 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</span></span><br /><span class="status-body"><strong><a title="Ingrid" class="tweet-url screen-name" href="http://twitter.com/ingridc">ingridc</a></strong><span class="entry-content">@<a href="http://twitter.com/linecook" class="tweet-url username">linecook</a> agree with @<a href="http://twitter.com/Tanukipdx" class="tweet-url username">Tanukipdx</a> re: bad cooking. Also, for me, cooking and intent have always been connected. Poor intent = bad cooking.</span></span><br /><span class="status-body"><strong><a title="Tanukipdx" class="tweet-url screen-name" href="http://twitter.com/Tanukipdx">Tanukipdx</a></strong><span class="entry-content">@<a href="http://twitter.com/linecook" class="tweet-url username">linecook</a> BadCooking? It's cooking without thought or care, soul or emotion.Bad cooking & bad fucking have much in common.</span></span><br /><span class="status-body"><strong><a title="Michael Eriksson" class="tweet-url screen-name" href="http://twitter.com/swedishmike">swedishmike</a></strong><span class="actions"><span class="entry-content">@<a href="http://twitter.com/linecook" class="tweet-url username">linecook</a> Taking good ingredients and making them taste bad.</span></span><span class="status-body"><span class="entry-content"> </span><br /><span class="status-body"> <strong><a title="Jessica Pavlovich" class="tweet-url screen-name" href="http://twitter.com/JessPav">JessPav</a></strong><span class="actions"><span class="entry-content">@<a href="http://twitter.com/linecook" class="tweet-url username">linecook</a> Bad cooking is canned corn, canned green beans and being told "If you don't like it, DON'T EAT IT!"</span></span><br /><span class="status-body"> <strong><a title="kate newburn" class="tweet-url screen-name" href="http://twitter.com/cloudsandcoffee">cloudsandcoffee</a></strong><span class="actions"><span class="entry-content">@<a href="http://twitter.com/linecook" class="tweet-url username">linecook</a> when you're in a foul mood and all your negative energy goes into the food... then you eat it. bad cooking!</span></span><br /><span class="status-body"> <strong><a title="Adriene Crimson" class="tweet-url screen-name" href="http://twitter.com/addycat">addycat</a></strong><span class="actions"><span class="entry-content">@<a href="http://twitter.com/linecook" class="tweet-url username">linecook</a> bad cooking lacks heart</span></span><br /><span class="status-body"> <strong><a title="Craig Hatfield" class="tweet-url screen-name" href="http://twitter.com/CraigHatfield">CraigHatfield</a></strong><span class="actions"><span class="entry-content">@<a href="http://twitter.com/linecook" class="tweet-url username">linecook</a> Not honoring the ingredients. Loss of good technique in the face of flash technology.</span></span><br /><span class="status-body"> <strong><a title="Jeremy Riley" class="tweet-url screen-name" href="http://twitter.com/jcooks">jcooks</a></strong><span class="actions"><span class="entry-content">@<a href="http://twitter.com/linecook" class="tweet-url username">linecook</a> bad cooking is cooking without love or care for the ingredients, the consumer of the food or yourself.</span></span><br /><span class="status-body"> <strong><a title="janessao" class="tweet-url screen-name" href="http://twitter.com/janessao">janessao</a></strong><span class="actions"><span class="entry-content">@<a href="http://twitter.com/linecook" class="tweet-url username">linecook</a> Mine. ;)</span></span><br /><span class="status-body"><strong><a title="MatthewSievert" class="tweet-url screen-name" href="http://twitter.com/MatthewSievert">MatthewSievert</a></strong><span class="actions"><span class="entry-content">@<a href="http://twitter.com/linecook" class="tweet-url username">linecook</a>"bad cooking" You know the right way, but you skimp and don't give the ingredient, specifically an animal the respect if deserves</span></span><br /><span class="status-body"><strong><a title="Mariano Bascon" class="tweet-url screen-name" href="http://twitter.com/KitchenEntropy">KitchenEntropy</a></strong><span class="actions"><span class="entry-content">@<a href="http://twitter.com/linecook" class="tweet-url username">linecook</a> bad cooking is lack of passion, care, and self pride. usually found in burn outs and money chasers. oh and applebees and chilis.<br /></span></span><span class="status-body"> <strong><a title="Khalil" class="tweet-url screen-name" href="http://twitter.com/ChefinProgress">ChefinProgress</a></strong><span class="actions"><span class="entry-content">@<a href="http://twitter.com/linecook" class="tweet-url username">linecook</a> Bad cooking is when you cease to care what you are doing.</span></span><br /><span class="status-body"><span class="entry-content"> <span class="meta entry-meta"></span> <span class="status-body"><strong><a title="Michael Eriksson" class="tweet-url screen-name" href="http://twitter.com/swedishmike">swedishmike</a></strong><span class="actions"><span class="entry-content">@<a href="http://twitter.com/linecook" class="tweet-url username">linecook</a> Taking good ingredients and making them taste bad.<br /></span></span><span class="status-body"> <strong><a title="pleddy" class="tweet-url screen-name" href="http://twitter.com/pleddy">pleddy</a></strong><span class="actions"><span class="entry-content">@<a href="http://twitter.com/linecook" class="tweet-url username">linecook</a> When you are focusing on new flavor combinations or plating without mastering basic cooking techniques.</span></span><br /><span class="status-body"> <strong><a title="Laura Froelich" class="tweet-url screen-name" href="http://twitter.com/laurafrofro">laurafrofro</a></strong><span class="actions"><span class="entry-content">@<a href="http://twitter.com/linecook" class="tweet-url username">linecook</a> Often it involves underseasoning.</span></span><br /><span class="status-body"><strong><a title="Lisa Janda" class="tweet-url screen-name" href="http://twitter.com/fallwitch">fallwitch</a></strong><span class="actions"><span class="entry-content">@<a href="http://twitter.com/linecook" class="tweet-url username">linecook</a> 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.<br /></span></span><span class="status-body"> <strong><a title="Mary Reilly" class="tweet-url screen-name" href="http://twitter.com/savorykitchen">savorykitchen</a></strong><span class="actions"><span class="entry-content">@<a href="http://twitter.com/linecook" class="tweet-url username">linecook</a> Bad cooking is cooking w/out care: either bad ingred, not tasting, forgetting the person who will eat the food you prepare.</span></span><br /><span class="status-body"> <strong><a title="Matt Wang" class="tweet-url screen-name" href="http://twitter.com/m_twang">m_twang</a></strong><span class="actions"><span class="entry-content">@<a href="http://twitter.com/linecook" class="tweet-url username">linecook</a>Or 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 +.</span></span><br /> <span class="status-body"><strong><a title="Matt Wang" class="tweet-url screen-name" href="http://twitter.com/m_twang">m_twang</a></strong><span class="actions"><span class="entry-content">@<a href="http://twitter.com/linecook" class="tweet-url username">linecook</a> Bad cooking is a lack of uderstanding. It's the easiest equation quality ingredients and a bit of care equal good results.</span> <span class="meta entry-meta"><a href="http://twitter.com/m_twang/status/6004982552" rel="bookmark" class="entry-date"><span data="{time:'Tue Nov 24 10:58:25 +0000 2009'}" class="published timestamp"></span></a><span> </span></span><br /> <span class="status-body"><strong><a title="Michael Eriksson" class="tweet-url screen-name" href="http://twitter.com/swedishmike">swedishmike</a></strong><span class="actions"><span class="entry-content">@<a href="http://twitter.com/linecook" class="tweet-url username">linecook</a> Taking good ingredients and making them taste bad.</span></span><br /><br />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.<br /><br />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.<br /><br />"Maybe they were having an off night..."<br />"It's only their second month. Did you hear the chef de cuisine came from Mugaritz? Maybe they're just settling..."<br />"Remember that case of nasty chicken bones we got last Wednesday? Maybe there's an epedemic of bad stocks sweeping the city..."<br />"I saw that dude Damien in their kitchen. I hate that guy..."<br /><br /><span class="status-body"><span class="entry-content"> <span class="meta entry-meta">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.<br /><br />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? <br /><br />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 <i>live</i> with that.<br /><br />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?<br /><br /> </span></span><span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"><big><big><big><big><u><b>notes.</b></u></big></big></big></big><br /><br /></span><ul><li><big><span style="font-family:Times New Roman;">sometimes indie music is indie because it completely sucks</span></big></li><li><big><span style="font-family:Times New Roman;">something I did not anticipate about losing weight: none of my clothes fitting anymore</span></big></li><li><big><span style="font-family:Times New Roman;">food inc. show it to someone that loves mc donalds.</span></big></li><li><big><span style="font-family:Times New Roman;">just when you think the tattoo is done, you decide to fill in the rest of your arm.</span></big></li><li><big><span style="font-family:Times New Roman;">cold. so motherfucking cold.</span></big></li><li><big><span style="font-family:Times New Roman;">a rabbit's scream is terrifying.<br /></span></big></li></ul><br /><big><big><big><big><u><b><span style="font-family:Courier New;">quotes and conversations.</span></b></u></big></big></big></big><br /><br /><br /><small><span style="font-family:Courier New;"><big><b>Ponder</b>: 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.<br /><b>Dega</b>: I wasn't going to tell you guys, but I had a dream that Richie put me and Ponder in a muffin making contest.<br /><br />"I know what a safety word is. I don't have one, but I know what it is. And knowing is half the battle."<br />-<b>Maritess</b><br /><br />"Sometimes a dude's just gotta bone down and make chili dogs."<br />-<b>Eddie</b><br /><br />"The bacon does not have the drip. Unlike Dega."<br />-<b>Ponder</b><br /><br /><i>(Eddie tells me his girlfriend has a crush on Jake Gyllenhall.</i>)<br /><b>Me</b>: Jake Gyllenhall? Really? He's such a pussy.<br /><b>Eddie</b>: (<i>Laughs, shrugs, and points to himself.</i>)<br /><br /><b>Gerardo</b>: You haven't seen my sex tape yet.<br /><b>Me</b>: Does it involve you getting your asshole eaten out?<br /><b>Eddie</b>: ...I want to go home.<br /><br />"I ate a valium one time and pooped my pants. It was awful."<br />-<b>Ponder</b><br /><br />"I make sex jokes and stuff!"<br />-<b>Maritess</b><br /><br /><b>Me</b>: You know what bad cooking is? When shit falls out of balance.<br /><b>Merrell</b>: Did you just say shit balls ass?<br /><br /><b>Merrell</b>: This is a stupid conversation.<br /><b>Me</b>: We're cooking. What else are we supposed to talk about?<br /><b>Merrell</b>: Sex.<br /><br />"If you were a boy Gerardo, I might've molested you by now."<br />-<b>Corey</b><br /><br />"What's that Steven King movie? Sleep Walkers? Where they turn into cats and are fuckin' all over the place?"<br />-<b>Goose</b><br /><br /><b>Me</b>: If she had her way, there would be a 50 foot high fence between here and Mexico.<br /><b>Merrell</b>: Who, me?<br /><br />"Are you too sick to tell me inappropriate stories?"<br />-<b>Maritess</b></big></span></small><br /><br /><img src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2193/4169309413_73217009d9_m.jpg" style="max-width: 800px;" /><img src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2497/4169308429_e5af784718_m.jpg" style="max-width: 800px;" /><img src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2571/4169291961_e7773f1442_m.jpg" style="max-width: 800px;" /><img src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2732/4170051772_959ab0b664_m.jpg" style="max-width: 800px;" /><img src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2734/4147014294_70e2063a7a_m.jpg" style="max-width: 800px;" /><img src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2693/4123280310_9bb97321df_m.jpg" style="max-width: 800px;" /><br /><img src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2664/4138656655_ce452f540b_m.jpg" style="max-width: 800px;" /><img src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2755/4180052967_13555bedc1_m.jpg" style="max-width: 800px;" /><img src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2655/4180053735_0818049281_m.jpg" style="max-width: 800px;" /><br />from top: clementine, radish, service, a cold restaurant, bully, aaliyah's text, missed connections, cara cara, duck<br /><br /><div class="zemanta-pixie"><img src="http://img.zemanta.com/pixy.gif?x-id=f52a8f12-d109-8518-a68d-4c146981b52e" alt="" class="zemanta-pixie-img" /></div></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></div>Richiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09941245006346350955noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4816829458403939488.post-66808234380686337182009-11-29T11:54:00.001-08:002009-11-29T11:54:58.546-08:00You can't go home again. But you can eat dinner there.<div xmlns='http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml'>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. <br/><br/>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.<br/><br/>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?<br/><br/>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?<br/><br/><br/><font face='arial'><u><b><big><big><big><big>notes:</big></big></big></big></b></u><br/></font><ul><li><font face='arial'>buddha monk training. not as easy as you might think.<br/></font></li><li><font face='arial'>best western has a completely different meaning in our kitchen.</font></li><li><font face='arial'>one year on twitter. dang.</font></li><li><font face='arial'>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?</font></li><li><font face='arial'>podcast season 2 sometimes feels like throwing confetti into the air and just kinda seeing where it lands.</font></li><li><font face='arial'>writing this was maddening, and part of me kinda hates it.</font><br/></li></ul><font face='monospace'><u><b><big><big><big><big><big>quotes and conversations.</big></big></big></big></big></b></u><br/><br/></font><big><font face='monospace'><b>Me</b>: OK Gerardo. Who would you rather bone down with. Adam West Batman, or Christian Bale Batman?<br/><b>Gerardo</b>: Adam West?<br/><b>Me</b>: Yes. Adam West. Batman. Adam fucking West.<br/><b>Gerardo</b>: Adam West?<br/><b>Me</b>: If you were my kid, I would beat you. I would just beat the fuck out of you.<br/><b>Gerardo</b>: Who's the other guy?<br/><b>Me</b>: Christian Bale.<br/><b>Eddie</b>: Trick question Gerardo. George Clooney Batman!<br/><b>Me</b>: Of course it's George Clooney Batman. I hate you Gerardo.<br/><br/><b>Me</b>: 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.<br/><b>Eddie</b>: I had cassoulet and I boned down. I win.<br/><br/><b>Corey</b>: Hey dude. Can you help me make pumpkin or squash pasta?<br/><b>Me</b>: 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.<br/><b>Corey</b>: Hey dude. Fuck you, fuck you, and fuck you.<br/><b>Eddie</b>: Hey dude! I brought you chips!<br/><br/><b>Me</b>: Who doesn't like getting choked when they're getting humped?<br/><b>Eddie</b>: (<i>Raises hand.</i>)<br/><br/><b>Me:</b> You ever use that stuff? Organic toilet paper?<br/><b>Ponder</b>: (<i>defeatedly</i>) This morning.<br/><br/>"Go shave your chin and fuck off."<br/>-<b>Corey</b><br/><br/><b>Goose</b>: See that? I make a little well..<br/><b>Me</b>: That's a really good idea. You're smart...<br/><b>Goose and Me</b>: ...sometimes.<br/><br/><b>Me</b>: You never know. You might like it.<br/><b>Gerardo</b>: What's that?<br/><b>Me</b>: Sucking dick.<br/><b>Gerardo</b>: You never know until you try.<br/><b>Me</b>: Well Eddie's not doing anything right now.<br/><b>Eddie</b>: Certainly not getting erect, that's for sure.<br/><br/>"I think if I were gonna get a Mt. Rushmore themed tattoo, it would have to be of the bad guys from Superman."<br/>-<b>Maritess</b><br/><br/><b>Me</b>: OK. You wanna see a tornado and go in the sewers. What else is in your five year plan Gerardo?<br/><b>Gerardo</b>: Lots of stuff...<br/><b>Me</b>: Like what? What the fuck else is in your plan?<br/><b>Gerardo</b>: I wanna get my asshole eaten out.<br/><br/><b>Me</b>: I just don't get it. It is spicey. It says spicey fennel sausage on the menu.<br/><b>Eddie</b>: You know who's to blame? That Rachel Ray bitch.<br/><br/><b>Goose</b>: Mer-mer. Can you bone down right now?<br/><b>Merrell</b>: Yeah!<br/><b>Goose</b>: Well I didn't know if you were still hurt or not.<br/><b>Merrell</b>: Are you offering or something?<br/><b>Goose</b>: No. I just didn't know if you could do it.<br/><b>Merrell</b>: If anything i'm more flexible.<br/><br/>"Isn't that narcissism? When you just fall asleep?"<br/>-<b>Goose.</b><br/><br/><b>Me</b>: You ever hear of that? People that use a knife when they bone down?<br/><b>Corey</b>: Why wouldn't you just use your dick?<br/><br/><img src='http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2781/4105886439_5f5e81f36a_m.jpg' style='max-width: 800px;'/><img src='http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2505/4094543821_bf419ebf12_m.jpg' style='max-width: 800px;'/><img src='http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2698/4095299208_66599f7e1e_m.jpg' style='max-width: 800px;'/><img src='http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2662/4095298334_0dd59fa206_m.jpg' style='max-width: 800px;'/><img src='http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2782/4095297836_e3e970688d_m.jpg' style='max-width: 800px;'/><img src='http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2575/4095287492_230736b20b_m.jpg' style='max-width: 800px;'/><img src='http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2421/4095286884_2956226d31_m.jpg' style='max-width: 800px;'/><img src='http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2524/4094526367_798d1a1d0f_m.jpg' style='max-width: 800px;'/><img src='http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2735/4094525765_23c389c0a7_m.jpg' style='max-width: 800px;'/><img src='http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2768/4095285028_4e86c2bf97_m.jpg' style='max-width: 800px;'/><img src='http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2445/4106656902_48334f13b1_m.jpg' style='max-width: 800px;'/><br/>from top: cut, mangalitsa, the crew, stained, kozy, gouge away, add spice?, ramen, noodles, pork, where am i?</font></big><br/><br/><div class='zemanta-pixie'><img src='http://img.zemanta.com/pixy.gif?x-id=1d364a11-724e-8f28-9e3f-add9070ec141' alt='' class='zemanta-pixie-img'/></div></div>Richiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09941245006346350955noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4816829458403939488.post-73678118499339758812009-11-17T11:33:00.001-08:002009-11-17T11:33:19.691-08:00Podcast 2.6 - What is progressive?<div xmlns='http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml'><a href='http://cdn1.libsyn.com/linecook/Podcast_2.6_-_What_Is_Progressive.m4a?nvb=20091117191824&nva=20091118192824&t=06ac347c558daa6060f8d'>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.</a> (<a href='hotfoodporn.com'>hotfoodporn.com</a>) 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. <br/><br/>ps<br/>If you want to play our drinking game, take a sip every time you hear the word "progressive." You will probably black out.<br/><br/>Opening music is Mullet Head by The Beastie Boys<br/><br/>00:30 - Our worst intro ever.<br/>2:43 - Eddie's fortress of solitude.<br/>4:11 - Why are you making me look dumb in front of our friends?<br/>5:15 - Bong sounds.<br/>6:30 - You guys are making my first time really nice.<br/>7:25 - Alright we're at 7 minutes, and...<br/>8:50 - Well, i've never worked in an office, so...<br/>11:34 - No dude. Im protesting.<br/>14:23 - Annnnd finally onto topic. David Chang/Chris Cosentino/Chris Kostow 7x7 Panel<br/>17:55 - Oh wow, we've got a subject! What the fuck is progressive?<br/>23:47 - And they're probably girls.<br/>25:33 - The asparagus problem.<br/>30:00 - We had to bring up Achatz.<br/>33:45 - What's not progressive?<br/>42:58 - I don't like looking at cookbooks...<br/>44:30 - If you take a drink every time you hear the word progressive...<br/>47:06 - Second devil's advocate of this podcast...<br/>56:03 - Why would you buy the cookbook if not to cook out of it?<br/>1:00:50 - Michael Ruhlman is a bad ass.<br/>1:06:14 - I was typing angrily.<br/><img src='http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2552/4084520860_fa057b1220_m.jpg' style='max-width: 800px;'/><img src='http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2604/4083769225_bf8e2c3b71_m.jpg' style='max-width: 800px;'/><img src='http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2770/4084527556_5e4285a5d0_m.jpg' style='max-width: 800px;'/><img src='http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2586/4084526464_f4697280c9_m.jpg' style='max-width: 800px;'/><img src='http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2755/4084525608_06d9b71c2b_m.jpg' style='max-width: 800px;'/><img src='http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2633/4083764641_800e1538c0_m.jpg' style='max-width: 800px;'/><img src='http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2786/4084522752_91063f266f_m.jpg' style='max-width: 800px;'/><br/><br/><div class='zemanta-pixie'><img src='http://img.zemanta.com/pixy.gif?x-id=7ac58308-b21e-85a3-8f5e-85d165d3c32f' alt='' class='zemanta-pixie-img'/></div></div>Richiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09941245006346350955noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4816829458403939488.post-57195979556066709562009-11-09T12:03:00.001-08:002009-11-09T12:03:06.962-08:00Podcast 2.5 - Jon Bonne and Kevin Kelley. Wine!<div xmlns='http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml'><a href='http://cdn3.libsyn.com/linecook/Podcast_2.5_-_Kevin_Kelley_and_Jon_Bonne.m4a?nvb=20091109195232&nva=20091110200232&t=01b0cf96cba78e94d0087'>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. <br/><br/>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.</a><br/><br/>Opening music is "Damaged Goods" by Gang of Four.<br/><br/>2:45 - We're not talking wine...I don't know if there's any wine on this table.<br/>4:20 - I just shot it.<br/>10:55 - It's similar to cooking....<br/>17:30 - If I made the same wine year after year...<br/>19:32 - This is hurting the case for the Nopa frozen food line.<br/>22:29 - So we won't see your wine in Vegas anytime soon?<br/>27:42 - The case for whole clusters.<br/>35:33 - Most of them are under twenty dollars a bottle...<br/>42:42 - What Wolfgang Weber does at restaurants to get a great bottle of wine<br/>46:15 - Jon's favorite wine varietals and regions<br/>49:45 - It's easy to blow off a category of wine, but...<br/>57:20 - What restaurants do you go to for interesting wine?<br/>1:00:00 - Enough wine...<br/>1:10:21 - Are we in the 707? <br/>1:14:40 - I feel uncomfortable where this conversation is going...<br/>1:18:56 - Calling Corey.<br/><br/><img src='http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2768/4041557738_d295463e32_m.jpg' style='max-width: 800px;'/><img src='http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2426/4040814651_ae8a0b433a_m.jpg' style='max-width: 800px;'/><img src='http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2554/4040817261_a27ba21c46_m.jpg' style='max-width: 800px;'/><img src='http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2789/4040820229_732ce8d2d7_m.jpg' style='max-width: 800px;'/><img src='http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2759/4041567898_301953c2dd_m.jpg' style='max-width: 800px;'/><img src='http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2686/4041568672_92bf6a866b_m.jpg' style='max-width: 800px;'/><img src='http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2600/4040823755_9f3be995a7_m.jpg' style='max-width: 800px;'/><img src='http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3515/4040824729_61e8d7405a_m.jpg' style='max-width: 800px;'/><br/><img src='http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2562/4041571250_644b852ced_m.jpg' style='max-width: 800px;'/><img src='http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3515/4041572546_0c81661ec1_m.jpg' style='max-width: 800px;'/><img src='http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3499/4040827711_a270a14807_m.jpg' style='max-width: 800px;'/><br/><br/><br/><br/><br/><div class='zemanta-pixie'><img src='http://img.zemanta.com/pixy.gif?x-id=9bda0be1-bf79-867f-843a-5a59116c171a' alt='' class='zemanta-pixie-img'/></div></div>Richiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09941245006346350955noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4816829458403939488.post-75986564130895400492009-11-02T11:45:00.001-08:002009-11-02T11:45:46.942-08:00Being present.<div xmlns='http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml'><font face='Courier New'><font face='verdana'>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.<br/><br/>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. <br/><br/>"Hey dude. You gonna plate that risotto?"<br/><br/>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.<br/><br/>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.<br/><br/>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.</font><br/><br/><br/><big><font face='Times New Roman'><u><b><big><big><big>notes</big></big></big></b></u>:<br/></font></big></font><ul><li><big><font face='Times New Roman'>when you see us high-fiving, we're not congratulating each other, we're making fun of Marina guys.</font></big></li><li><big><font face='Times New Roman'>there are no death traps in our kitchen</font></big></li><li><big><font face='Times New Roman'>when asked to choose between david chang and chez pim, i'm going to choose the former.</font></big></li><li><big><font face='Times New Roman'>if you get a number, you buy beers. that's the rule.</font></big></li><li>hypothetical thursdays. there are some very strange scenarios that come up<br/></li></ul><font face='Courier New'><br/><u><b><big><big><big>quotes and conversations.</big></big></big></b></u><br/><br/>"I gotta admit. I miss the Dick."<br/><b>-Ponder. </b>Was missing Eddie.<br/><br/>"Yeah dude. I like sardines. They're quick. Like my lovemaking."<br/>-<b>Corey<br/></b><br/><b>Corey</b>: Yeah dude! Get in the fuckin' matrix!<br/><b>Me:</b> You want some trance music to get you in the matrix mood? You've already got the green bandanna on.<br/><b>Corey</b>: Hey dude, you used to like house music, and my bandanna's the same color as the matrix.<br/><b>Me:</b> I just said that.<br/><b>Corey</b>: Really?<br/><br/><b>Me</b>: So it's about this aspiring singer and neurotic comedy writer. Annie Hall. If she likes it, marry her.<br/><b>Corey</b>: And if she likes Best From Behind 2, marry her.<br/><b>Me:</b> Best From Behind?<br/><b>Corey</b>: Yeah.<br/><b>Me</b>: The porno you found at your Grandma's house?<br/><b>Corey</b>: Yeah.<br/><br/>"Hey dude. She wants to pound your masa. Organically."<br/>-<b>Corey</b><br/><br/><b>Gerardo</b>: Hey Richie?<br/><b>Me</b>: Hey Gerardo. (<i>pause</i>) I'm listening. (<i>pause</i>) Go ahead. (<i>pause</i>) WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU WANT?<br/><b>Gerardo</b>: Have you ever boned down in a walk-in?<br/><b>Me</b>: 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.<br/><b>Gerardo</b>: How about the freezer?<br/><br/>"My name's Corey, not asshole. Thank you."<br/>-<b>Corey</b><br/><br/><b>Me</b>: 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. <br/><b>Eddie</b>: OK.<br/><b>Camaal</b>: I have three legs pito.<br/><br/><b>Me</b>: Check out Tony Soprano and his harem of Jersey bitches.<br/><b>Eddie</b>: Heh. You said Jersey bitches.<br/><br/><b>Me</b>: What's that smell? Is it the escarole?<br/><b>Eddie</b>: No, it's the cheese. It smells like noonie.<br/><br/><b>Me</b>: Eight out.<br/><b>Eddie</b>: Eight out.<br/><b>Me</b>: Who's getting ate out?<br/><b>Eddie</b>: You just said eight out.<br/><b>Me</b>: Who's getting ate out?<br/><b>Eddie</b>: You...ahh. Clever word play like that is going to send you right up Technorati.<br/><b>Me</b>: Technorati? Does that website even exist anymore? <br/><b>Eddie</b>: I don't think so. I think I just dated myself.<br/><br/>"Nah, i'm serious. I have pictures of it. I was pettin' a goat!"<br/>-<b>Goose</b><br/><br/><b>Me</b>: He looks like an evil televangelist.<br/><b>Paulie</b>: (<i>laughs</i>) Is there such a thing as a good televangelist?<br/><b>Me</b>: No. But I mean evil like the televangelist in the movie Dragnet.<br/><br/><img src='http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2705/4040840039_9a8e1b6b39_m.jpg' style='max-width: 800px;'/><img src='http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2719/4041582552_313fdb6492_m.jpg' style='max-width: 800px;'/><img src='http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2772/4041576514_abc730499c_m.jpg' style='max-width: 800px;'/><img src='http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2608/4041575014_4cb821041b_m.jpg' style='max-width: 800px;'/><img src='http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3479/4040806421_1cdd804d18_m.jpg' style='max-width: 800px;'/><img src='http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2538/4041551114_2c0a36c7b4_m.jpg' style='max-width: 800px;'/><img src='http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2425/4040499375_f8d5226ebe_m.jpg' style='max-width: 800px;'/><img src='http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2538/4040498333_9242db82f6_m.jpg' style='max-width: 800px;'/><img src='http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2653/4041244606_6af52707f2_m.jpg' style='max-width: 800px;'/><img src='http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3498/4041243606_b92819780a_m.jpg' style='max-width: 800px;'/><img src='http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2661/4041242836_e2acd707e6_m.jpg' style='max-width: 800px;'/><br/>from top: bistecca alla fiorentina, dario ceccini, corey and al, mer-mer, may the tortas be with you, asshole, oh paulie, ?, damage, pasta, duck<br/><br/></font><br/><br/><div class='zemanta-pixie'><img src='http://img.zemanta.com/pixy.gif?x-id=95f8835c-fca6-82e8-a380-bd33da60b2dc' alt='' class='zemanta-pixie-img'/></div></div>Richiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09941245006346350955noreply@blogger.com13tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4816829458403939488.post-540609273336561942009-10-21T11:46:00.001-07:002009-10-21T11:46:09.845-07:00Teaching the Terrible Tournant.<div xmlns='http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml'><big><font face='Times New Roman'>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.<br/><br/>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.<br/><br/>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. <br/>"Two and three. Ill take the three. Go."<br/>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.<br/><br/>There are two options in this situation:<br/></font></big><ol><li><big><font face='Times New Roman'>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."</font></big></li><li><big><font face='Times New Roman'>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. </font></big></li></ol><big><font face='Times New Roman'>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.<br/><br/>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.</font></big><br/><br/><big><big><big><u><b>notes.</b></u></big></big></big><br/><ul><li>When Corey is on the line, its certain to be an agressive service.</li><li>Aziza gets a Michelin star. <br/></li><li>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.</li><li>why is it that 75% of my visitors at work are out of their minds drunk?</li><li>kinda feel like shit right now.</li><li>people are surprisingly non supportive about me getting into shape....but in a fun way.</li></ul><br/><font face='Courier New'><u><b><big><big><big>quotes and conversations:</big></big></big></b></u><br/><br/>"There's a direct ratio. As you soften, I harden. You're doing yoga, and i'm turning into a foul mouthed asshole."<br/>-<b>Eddie</b><br/><br/><b>Me</b>: You've got a bat in the cave. <br/><b>Eddie</b>: A bat...oh, an eye googie?<br/><b>Me</b>: No dude. A bat in the cave...did you say eye googie?<br/><b>Goose</b>: Put that in the book. He can't get away with that shit.<br/><br/>"At this place they'll make a wax mold of a vagina and give it to you."<br/>-<b>Corey</b><br/><br/><b>Me</b>: 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?<br/><b>Eddie</b>: If you took me to Sebo...<br/><b>Me</b>: Then we could just go back to your place.<br/><b>Amy</b>: I think it's more like a wam-bam thank you maam in an alley.<br/><b>Me</b>: That is more my style.<br/><b>Amy</b>: I <i>know</i> it's more your style.<br/><br/><b>Me</b>: OK. Who would win in a fight: A land shark or a sea bear?<br/><b>Paulie</b>: Land shark.<br/><b>Camaal</b>: Land shark.<br/><b>Eddie</b>: It's gotta be the land shark.<br/><b>Gerardo</b>: Sea bear.<br/><b>Me</b>: Why?<br/><b>Gerardo</b>: Cuz it's a fuckin' bear!<br/><b>Me</b>: OK, same question, but this time it's between a four headed eagle and a flying rattlesnake.<br/><b>Gerardo</b>: I got a rattlesnake for my tenth birthday.<br/><br/><b>Gerardo</b>: What the fuck is espinacas?<br/><b>Me:</b> Spinach.......Gerardo, I don't want you using language like that in the kitchen.<br/><b>Gerardo</b>: Spanish?<br/><br/>"Ah skeet skeet skeet. That's right. I said it."<br/>-<b>Eddie</b><br/></font><br/><br/><img src='http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2462/4027003238_d202aaf281_m.jpg' style='max-width: 800px;'/><img src='http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2738/4027001900_8b0cd580fb_m.jpg' style='max-width: 800px;'/><img src='http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3479/4027000726_e81a62d490_m.jpg' style='max-width: 800px;'/><img src='http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2786/4026999526_f2e7bdb714_m.jpg' style='max-width: 800px;'/><img src='http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2691/4026998568_0f378fc114_m.jpg' style='max-width: 800px;'/><br/>from top: 3am stock, creamy head, corey, that was close, pork belly.<br/><br/><div class='zemanta-pixie'><img src='http://img.zemanta.com/pixy.gif?x-id=83767b16-9803-85aa-bd45-600137225620' alt='' class='zemanta-pixie-img'/></div></div>Richiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09941245006346350955noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4816829458403939488.post-1728501319676465642009-10-14T12:00:00.001-07:002009-10-14T12:00:36.662-07:00Do you cook?<div xmlns='http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml'>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.<br/><br/>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.<br/><br/>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.<br/>"What's up?"<br/>"Brunoise. I'm timing you. Go."<br/>You hear the beep of his stopwatch as he looks sternly at you. At first you laugh...then you realize he's not joking. <br/>"Go motherfucker. I said im timing you."<br/>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.<br/>"What about these?"<br/>You say nothing. He sifts through the brunoise, picking out any irregular pieces.<br/>"And this. It's not very uniform, is it? That took you over 2 minutes. The extern does it faster than you." <br/>He steps in closer to you.<br/>"This was a fucking onion. You talk a big game for a guy that barely brunoise."<br/><br/>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 <i>cook</i>?<br/><br/>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 <i>cooking</i>. 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?"<br/><br/><big><big><big><u><b>notes:</b></u></big></big></big><br/><ul><li>ty-flo? that sounds like a bathroom problem. -eddie lau (hotfoodporn)</li><li>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?</li><li>Not so many people comment anymore. Nowadays it's all about the twitter replies on my posts.</li><li>Eddie Dick used to be such a nice boy before he started working at Nopa.</li><li>why do all hapa guys have the same haircut?</li></ul><big><big><big><big><u><b><font face='Courier New'>quotes and conversations.</font></b></u></big></big></big></big><br/><br/><br/><font face='Courier New'>"The thing I like about Project Runway is that it's a developmental experience."<br/>-<b>Eddie</b>. Likes Project Runway.<br/><br/><i>Merrell walks in with two guys.</i><br/>"That better be your brother Mer-Mer or you're gonna be in trouble."<br/>-<b>Camaal</b>. Protective.<br/><br/><b>Me</b>: OK, add an osso bucco.<br/><b>Eddie</b>: OK. Two pork, two pasta, one fish.<br/><b>Me</b>: No. Two pork, fish, pasta, osso bucco.<br/><b>Eddie</b>: OK.<br/><b>Me</b>: Did I say pasta?<br/><b>Eddie</b>: I think so.<br/><b>Me</b>:...<br/><b>Eddie</b>: OK, so two pork, one osso, one fish, one pasta.<br/><b>Me</b>: No asshole! Two pastas!<br/><br/><b>Me</b>: Pick up galactic. Light speed to the window. Faster than twelve parsecs.<br/><b>Maritess</b>: What?<br/><b>Me</b>: You know. Twelve parsecs. The Kessel Run. Fast enough for you old man?<br/><b>Maritess</b>: What is that?<br/><b>Me</b>: Star Wars dude! <br/><b>Maritess</b>: Which movie?<br/><b>Me</b>: 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? <br/><b>Maritess</b>:...<br/><b>Me</b>: Bullseyeing wamp rats in my T-16 back home?<br/><b>Maritess</b>:...(laughs)<br/><b>Me</b>: Arrgh.<br/><br/>"Ill tell you what though. C&C Music Factory had some kick ass music video's."<br/>-<b>Ponder</b>. Likes early 90's music videos.<br/><br/><b>Me</b>: Eddie, if my dick were made of cheerios, would you pour milk all over it and eat it with a spoon?<br/><b>Eddie</b>: Are strawberries involved?<br/><b>Me</b>: Absolutely.<br/><b>Eddie</b>. Then yes.<br/><br/><b>Me</b>: 38% said yes, 22% were undecided, and 40% said no.<br/><b>Goose</b>: What about the other 10%?<br/><b>Me</b>: 38 plus 22 is 60.<br/><b>Goose</b>: You see? I didn't do that good in school.<br/><b>Me</b>: <i>Well</i> in school.<br/><br/>"If I have my dick punched through with a metal rod, i'm not gonna make it into work."<br/>-<b>Eddie</b>. Getting pierced.<br/><br/><b>Me</b>: Eddie, wanna get a tattoo?<br/><b>Eddie</b>: No.<br/><b>Camaal</b>: A butterfly on your ass?<br/><br/><b>Goose</b>: Hey dude, can I sing?<br/><b>Me</b>: No.<br/><b>Goose</b>: Can I sing R. Kelly?<br/><b>Me</b>: No. I will fucking stab you.<br/><b>Eddie</b>: Whatta you got against a little bump and grind?<br/><br/><b>Me</b>: You wanna be my agent? I'll give you 2% of whatever I get.<br/><b>Corey</b>: Word. I'll do that shit for free.<br/><b>Me</b>: O.K. You're doing it for free. It's a deal.<br/><b>Corey</b>: No dude! 2%! I need to buy baby shoes.<br/><br/><b>Me</b>: 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. <br/><b>Maritess</b>: I did! I clicked on all of them!<br/><b>Me</b>: Even shark vagina?<br/><b>Maritess</b>: Yes!<br/><b>Eddie</b>: I didn't click on shark vagina. I was there.<br/><br/><b>Me</b>: Right Gerardo? Mer-mer should just bone down nasty style and get it over with.<br/><b>Gerardo</b>: I like to use the word raunchy.<br/><br/><img src='http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2457/4008149904_95b6ae7045_m.jpg' style='max-width: 800px;'/><img src='http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2483/4008147676_7157acd919_m.jpg' style='max-width: 800px;'/><img src='http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3490/4007380583_f7bcf8149a_m.jpg' style='max-width: 800px;'/><img src='http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3483/4008145718_0d52c579e9_m.jpg' style='max-width: 800px;'/><img src='http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2523/4008146252_d8d683e7db_m.jpg' style='max-width: 800px;'/><img src='http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2424/4008145160_aa96cff327_m.jpg' style='max-width: 800px;'/><img src='http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3532/3995814555_b353b5cb1d_m.jpg' style='max-width: 800px;'/><img src='http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2635/3995813483_2380b9ab92_m.jpg' style='max-width: 800px;'/><img src='http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2601/3996573590_015e51bab2_m.jpg' style='max-width: 800px;'/><img src='http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2446/3995808333_3f99c10ece_m.jpg' style='max-width: 800px;'/><br/>from top: paris, i heart dc, saba glazed cipollini, beautiful black cod, snickers, tattoo, sardines, construction, divis couture, look closely<br/></font><br/><br/><div class='zemanta-pixie'><img src='http://img.zemanta.com/pixy.gif?x-id=607eb051-4935-8d24-95b1-c613b9f93b06' alt='' class='zemanta-pixie-img'/></div></div>Richiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09941245006346350955noreply@blogger.com16tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4816829458403939488.post-10242173913356684362009-10-14T10:06:00.001-07:002009-10-14T10:13:55.049-07:00Podcast 2.4 - Tablehopper. Marcia Gagliardi<a href="http://cdn2.libsyn.com/linecook/podcast_2.4.mp3?nvb=20091014170217&nva=20091015171217&t=07a2e0edd1f4ddf3488e5">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.</a> <a href="http://tablehopper.com">Marcia Gagliardi, (who writes Tablehopper)</a> was our guest this time around. Also at the table was Eddie Lau (of <a href="http://hotfoodporn.com">Hot Food Porn</a>) 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. <br /><br />intro music is Award Tour by A Tribe Called Quest<br /><br />1:27 - Smallpenises.com<br />8:18 - An unusual amount of time spent on love parade<br />9:54 - Do you think we could?<br />12:20 - What's your favorite place to drink a Manhattan?<br />14:23 - Inspiration from the internet?<br />22:18 - Bustling.<br />23:00 - What food media do ya'll consume?<br />27:32 - Chefs who go the TV route.<br />29:50 - What's your path Richie?<br />33:12 - Corey's path.<br />34:28 - Eddie's path.<br />36:06 - Is that like my ass?<br />41:28 - Top 3 cookbooks.<br />1:02:00 - The female chef thing.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2561/4001861570_942b0f0923_m.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 180px; height: 240px;" src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2561/4001861570_942b0f0923_m.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2545/4001089839_28614e0bb1_m.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 180px; height: 240px;" src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2545/4001089839_28614e0bb1_m.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3461/4001085479_4f405b3ffe_m.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 180px; height: 240px;" src="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3461/4001085479_4f405b3ffe_m.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3508/4001860122_2838866d1d_m.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 180px; height: 240px;" src="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3508/4001860122_2838866d1d_m.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3460/4001857102_c57c9f4144_m.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 180px; height: 240px;" src="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3460/4001857102_c57c9f4144_m.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a>Richiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09941245006346350955noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4816829458403939488.post-68422394763303340072009-10-06T11:46:00.001-07:002009-10-06T11:46:56.000-07:00The end of the culinary world as you know it.<div xmlns='http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml'><big><font face='Times New Roman'><big><big><big><small><small><small><small><font face='serif'>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! <br/><br/>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?<br/><br/>Here, in San Francisco, there is a group of chefs that are <a href='http://www.7x7.com/content/eat-drink/ravi-kapur-chef-de-cuisine-boulevard'>rightly</a> <a href='http://www.foodandwine.com/bestnewchefs/daniel-patterson'>considered</a> <a href='http://www.sfgate.com/cgi-bin/article.cgi?file=/chat/chats/013102lahlou.dtl&type=page&key=chat'>to be</a> <a href='http://www.sfgate.com/cgi-bin/article.cgi?f=/c/a/2005/01/30/CMGAB98FOU1.DTL&type=food'>at the top</a> <a href='http://www.sanfranmag.com/story/fish-out-water'>of their game</a>. <a href='http://www.7x7.com/content/cover/2008-hot-20-sam-josi-and-laurence-jossel'>They're all in the same age group</a>, <a href='http://www.foodandwine.com/bestnewchefs/craig-stoll'>they all came up paying their dues</a>, 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 <a href='http://sf.eater.com/tags/charlie-kleinman'>Charlie Kleinman</a>, <a href='http://www.nytimes.com/2009/07/08/dining/08butch.html?pagewanted=all'>Ryan Farr,</a> <a href='http://sf.eater.com/archives/2009/09/24/fall_previews_the_eight_big_deal_restaurants.php'>Brandon Jew</a>, <a href='http://www.examiner.com/x-17728-SF-Restaurant-Examiner%7Ey2009m10d5-Where-chefs-eat-Flour--Waters-Thomas-McNaughton'>Thomas McNaughton</a>, <a href='http://blogs.sfweekly.com/foodie/2009/09/fish_farms_chad_newton_the_sfo.php'>Chad Newton</a>, <a href='http://www.sfgate.com/cgi-bin/article.cgi?f=/c/a/2008/03/05/FDPFVAT6I.DTL'>Ian Begg</a>, <a href='http://www.sfgate.com/cgi-bin/article.cgi?f=/c/a/2009/03/15/FDC316BO7C.DTL'>Justin Simoneaux</a>, <a href='http://www.sfgate.com/cgi-bin/article.cgi?f=/c/a/2007/03/07/FDG0COA4RG1.DTL'>James Syhabout</a>, <a href='http://www.sfchefsfoodwine.com/chefs.aspx?id=336'>Ron Pei</a> and <a href='http://www.metagrrrl.com/bibulous/people-luis-villavelazquez/'>Luis Villavilazquez</a> are all young, driven, and quickly making a name for themselves citywide. And beyond the traditional kitchen format there are chefs like <a href='http://www.sfgate.com/cgi-bin/object/article?f=/g/a/2009/01/19/onthejob011909.DTL&o=0'>Anthony Myint</a> and <a href='http://sf.eater.com/archives/2009/08/04/joshua_skenes_new_chef_prototype_or_trendwatching_genius.php'>Josh Skenes</a> 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.<br/><br/>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.<br/><br/>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.<br/></font></small></small></small></small></big></big></big><u><big><big><big><b><br/>notes:</b></big></big></big></u><br/></font></big><ul><li><big><font face='Times New Roman'><a href='http://events.nytimes.com/2009/09/30/dining/reviews/30rest.html?ref=dining'>well, it reads well. this is where my boy matt wang works.</a></font></big></li><li><big><font face='Times New Roman'>matt also sent us <a href='http://www.thefoodsection.com/foodsection/2009/09/vendrification.html'>this</a>. we were supposed to podcast about it. kinda forgot...but its interesting.</font></big></li><li><big><font face='Times New Roman'>whoever is searching all that creepy shit on my flickr account needs to cut it out.</font></big></li><li><big><font face='Times New Roman'>raw denim. do not wash for months. really?</font></big></li><li><big><font face='Times New Roman'>let's get one of <a href='http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/uk_news/england/devon/8282288.stm'>these</a>.</font></big></li><li><big><font face='Times New Roman'><a href='http://www.sfgate.com/cgi-bin/blogs/mbauer/detail?blogid=26&entry_id=48741'>write food criticism, and you're more likely to run out of interesting things to blog about</a></font></big></li><li><big><font face='Times New Roman'><a href='http://eater.com/'>eater national</a>. <a href='http://eater.com/uploads/2009_10_edoh.jpg'>$25 to close your blog</a>. <a href='http://getfoodporn.blogspot.com/2009/10/are-you-serious-eater-fail.html'>discuss.</a><br/></font></big></li></ul><br/><u><big><big><big><big><b><font face='Courier New'>quotes and conversations.</font></b></big></big></big></big></u><br/><br/><font face='Courier New'>"I love you Mer-mer. I'm going to make you the happiest woman in the world."<br/>-<b>Camaal</b><br/><br/><b>Me</b>: We're on orange alert?<br/><b>Nick</b>: Yeah.<br/><b>Me</b>: Yeah dude! That's my favorite alert! It's one alert away from code red.<br/><b>Dega</b>: Which one is Amber alert.<br/><b>Me</b>: Amber alert is a kidnapped child.<br/><br/><i>A tall, cute girl walks by.</i><br/><b>Camaal</b>: Why not.<br/><b>Paulie</b>: Because she's twice your size?<br/><b>Camaal</b>: So? Danny is twice my size.<br/><b>Paulie</b>: ?....<br/><br/><b>Goose</b>: Never suck dick for crack.<br/><b>Me</b>: That's good advice.<br/><b>Ponder</b>. I have par cooked risotto stuck in my teeth.<br/><b>Me</b>: I don't even think we're listening to each other anymore.<br/><br/><b>Eddie</b>: <a href='http://twitter.com/linecook/status/4520909051'>Why did you tell an entire week in October to fuck off?</a><br/><i>(3 hours pass)</i><br/><b>Goose</b>: Hey dude, I just wanted you to know that when you told this week to fuck off, you put it for next month. <br/><b>Me</b>: Yeah, that's part of this week sucking.<br/><br/><b>Me</b>: I don't think you can base an entire film on an <a href='http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Charles_Foster_Kane'>unlikeable character.</a><br/><b>Amy</b>: But it's been done.<br/><b>Me</b>: Yeah, in the <a href='http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Star_Wars_Episode_I:_The_Phantom_Menace'>Phantom Menace</a> with that little kid.<br/><b>Corey</b>: I got your phantom menace right here.<br/><br/><b>Amy</b>: When you told Brooke about <a href='http://www.tcho.com/blog/comments/getting_millennials_right_and_wrong/'>millennial values</a>, did you use your nerd voice?<br/><b>Me</b>: No, I used my CNN voice, pented my fingers, and used air quotes.<br/><b>Amy</b>: Nice.<br/><br/><b>Rachel</b>: You should get Corey to run with you.<br/><b>Me</b>: I don't think that's gonna happen. Corey's gotta stop eating melted brie on triscuits first. <br/><b>Corey</b>: It's baguette ends. Triscuits are for sliced cheddar.<br/><br/><i>Merrell is plating, and she's short on a set.</i><br/><b>Eddie</b>: Did I fuck you?<br/><b>Merrell</b>: Don't say that Eddie. It's weird.<br/><br/><b>Me</b>: Fire two families.<br/><b>Goose</b>: 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..<br/><b>Me</b>: FIRETWOFAMILIES!!!!<br/><b>Goose</b>: Yes.<br/><br/><b>Me</b>: What about you Goose? Would you pay to see nude pictures of me on the internet?<br/><b>Goose</b>: Well, I guess if you were tryin to raise money or something.<br/><br/><b>Eddie</b>: Guess what I made yesterday? Fish and chips. Only I didn't have potatoes, so I made onion rings instead.<br/><b>Me</b>: Wow, that's extra un-healthy.<br/><b>Eddie</b>: And that was for breakfast!<br/><br/><b>Eddie</b>: 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.<br/><b>Me</b>: That's very geeky of you.<br/><b>Eddie</b>: I like beans. They're delicious, and economical...<br/><b>Me</b>: You're still talking about beans.<br/><br/><b>Corey</b>: Mer-mer, your balls taste good in my mouth.<br/><b>Merrell</b>: Thanks Corey.<br/><b>Me</b>: Weird, Matty told her the same thing last night.<br/><br/><b>Me</b>: OK Gerardo. If you could bone down with a really hot girl, but she had a robot vagina, would you do it?<br/><b>Gerardo</b>: I don't know what that would feel like.<br/><b>Ponder</b>: Trick question! That would be the end of the world. That's cylon vagina.<br/><b>Me</b>: OK. Same question, but this time it's shark vagina.<br/><b>Gerardo</b>:...<br/><b>Eddie</b>: Trick question! <a href='http://www.collegehumor.com/picture:1608493'>Sharks don't have vaginas</a>!<br/><b>Gerardo</b>:...</font><br/><br/><img src='http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2471/3975028912_6d5047be76_m.jpg' style='max-width: 800px;'/><img src='http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3524/3974265211_a125d62eb8_m.jpg' style='max-width: 800px;'/><img src='http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2587/3974266557_04ed39d085_m.jpg' style='max-width: 800px;'/><img src='http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2659/3975032144_90c947176f_m.jpg' style='max-width: 800px;'/><img src='http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2557/3974268387_82100fee0e_m.jpg' style='max-width: 800px;'/><img src='http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2664/3974271099_62420daed0_m.jpg' style='max-width: 800px;'/><img src='http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2512/3974272245_0b69fb43fd_m.jpg' style='max-width: 800px;'/><img src='http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2606/3975037672_dbc668b40d_m.jpg' style='max-width: 800px;'/><br/>from top: dega's text, cipollini eyes, burnt bacon, corey and goose, superglue, baby snails, you touch your dick, a brand new vitaprep<br/><br/><div class='zemanta-pixie'><img src='http://img.zemanta.com/pixy.gif?x-id=50a83b9a-76b4-8e56-8f4b-a0cf2d39deb0' alt='' class='zemanta-pixie-img'/></div></div>Richiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09941245006346350955noreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4816829458403939488.post-54108436042973704352009-10-05T12:37:00.000-07:002009-10-06T02:52:55.161-07:00Podcast 2.3 - Hot Food Porn meets Porn - Eddie vs Violet<span style="font-family:monospace;"><a href="http://cdn2.libsyn.com/linecook/podcast_2.3band.mp3?nvb=20091005192820&nva=20091006193820&t=0be6e9c13c747c06ef66e"><big><big>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</big></big></a><br /><br /></span> <!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <o:documentproperties> <o:template>Normal.dotm</o:Template> <o:revision>0</o:Revision> <o:totaltime>0</o:TotalTime> <o:pages>1</o:Pages> <o:words>36</o:Words> <o:characters>207</o:Characters> <o:company>Linecook415</o:Company> <o:lines>1</o:Lines> <o:paragraphs>1</o:Paragraphs> <o:characterswithspaces>254</o:CharactersWithSpaces> <o:version>12.0</o:Version> </o:DocumentProperties> <o:officedocumentsettings> <o:allowpng/> </o:OfficeDocumentSettings> </xml><![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:worddocument> <w:zoom>0</w:Zoom> <w:trackmoves>false</w:TrackMoves> <w:trackformatting/> <w:punctuationkerning/> <w:drawinggridhorizontalspacing>18 pt</w:DrawingGridHorizontalSpacing> <w:drawinggridverticalspacing>18 pt</w:DrawingGridVerticalSpacing> <w:displayhorizontaldrawinggridevery>0</w:DisplayHorizontalDrawingGridEvery> <w:displayverticaldrawinggridevery>0</w:DisplayVerticalDrawingGridEvery> <w:validateagainstschemas/> <w:saveifxmlinvalid>false</w:SaveIfXMLInvalid> <w:ignoremixedcontent>false</w:IgnoreMixedContent> <w:alwaysshowplaceholdertext>false</w:AlwaysShowPlaceholderText> <w:compatibility> <w:breakwrappedtables/> <w:dontgrowautofit/> <w:dontautofitconstrainedtables/> <w:dontvertalignintxbx/> </w:Compatibility> </w:WordDocument> </xml><![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:latentstyles deflockedstate="false" latentstylecount="276"> </w:LatentStyles> </xml><![endif]--> <style> <!-- /* Font Definitions */ @font-face {font-family:Cambria; panose-1:2 4 5 3 5 4 6 3 2 4; mso-font-charset:0; mso-generic-font-family:auto; mso-font-pitch:variable; mso-font-signature:3 0 0 0 1 0;} /* Style Definitions */ p.MsoNormal, li.MsoNormal, div.MsoNormal {mso-style-parent:""; margin-top:0in; margin-right:0in; margin-bottom:10.0pt; margin-left:0in; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:12.0pt; font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-ascii-font-family:Cambria; mso-ascii-theme-font:minor-latin; mso-fareast-font-family:Cambria; mso-fareast-theme-font:minor-latin; mso-hansi-font-family:Cambria; mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-bidi;} @page Section1 {size:8.5in 11.0in; margin:1.0in 1.25in 1.0in 1.25in; mso-header-margin:.5in; mso-footer-margin:.5in; mso-paper-source:0;} div.Section1 {page:Section1;} --> </style> <!--[if gte mso 10]> <style> /* Style Definitions */ table.MsoNormalTable {mso-style-name:"Table Normal"; mso-tstyle-rowband-size:0; mso-tstyle-colband-size:0; mso-style-noshow:yes; mso-style-parent:""; mso-padding-alt:0in 5.4pt 0in 5.4pt; mso-para-margin-top:0in; mso-para-margin-right:0in; mso-para-margin-bottom:10.0pt; mso-para-margin-left:0in; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:12.0pt; font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-ascii-font-family:Cambria; mso-ascii-theme-font:minor-latin; mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-theme-font:minor-fareast; mso-hansi-font-family:Cambria; mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin;} </style> <![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <o:shapedefaults ext="edit" spidmax="1026"> </xml><![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <o:shapelayout ext="edit"> <o:idmap ext="edit" data="1"> </o:shapelayout></xml><![endif]--> <!--StartFragment--> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:monospace;">2:42 – Handjobs.<span> </span>Enough said.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:monospace;">4:32 – Twitter questions</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:monospace;">12:45 – What is a lifetime supply of KY?</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:monospace;">16:22 – You are a pervert</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:monospace;">22:54 – Hanky Codes</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:monospace;">31:40 – March 14<sup>th</sup></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:monospace;">41:22 – No titties?</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:monospace;">46:45 – That’s gonna be an interesting dish.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:monospace;">58:00 – Eater National</span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><img style="max-width: 800px;" src="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3440/3984091133_fdcdb9bcac_m.jpg" /><img style="max-width: 800px;" src="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3489/3984850588_3683c130d8_m.jpg" /><img style="max-width: 800px;" src="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3511/3984849362_b8b69af2d0_m.jpg" /><img style="max-width: 800px;" src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2459/3984848294_93fea3bfab_m.jpg" /><img style="max-width: 800px;" src="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3503/3984083135_feeb417d22_m.jpg" /></p><br /><br /><div class="zemanta-pixie"><img class="zemanta-pixie-img" alt="" src="http://img.zemanta.com/pixy.gif?x-id=d9052463-709b-8395-813c-6e3e08a00ea1" /></div>Richiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09941245006346350955noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4816829458403939488.post-10106425969982137932009-09-29T12:11:00.001-07:002009-09-30T03:45:06.779-07:00A good sin?<div xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml"><div align="center"><big><span style="font-family:Times New Roman;">"You cannot humiliate the person who feels pride." -Cesar Chavez<br /></span><span style="font-family:Times New Roman;">"In general, pride is at the bottom of all great mistakes." -John Ruskin<br /></span><span style="font-family:Times New Roman;">"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<br /></span><span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"><span class="indquote_link">"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</span><br /></span><span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"><span class="indquote_link">"There is this paradox in pride; it makes some men ridiculous, but prevents others from becoming so." -Charles Caleb Colton</span><br /></span><span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"><span class="indquote_link"></span></span><span style="font-family:Times New Roman;">"Pride comes before a fall." -Proverbs<br /><br /></span></big><div align="left"><big><span style="font-family:Times New Roman;">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:<br /><br />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.<br /></span></big></div><div align="left"><big><span style="font-family:Times New Roman;">"Are you giving up? It seems like you're just giving up. If you don't care anymore just tell me."<br />"I still care chef."<br />"Because seriously, I can get someone else. That was fucked."<br />"No chef, I can do it."<br />"Look, just care more. Take a little <i>pride</i> you motherfucker."</span></big><span style="font-family:georgia;"><big><span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"><br /><br />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 <i>enjoying</i> 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.<br /><br />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.<br /><br />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 <i>cook</i>. 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.<br /><br /></span></big><br /></span></div></div><span style="font-family:Courier New;"><span style="font-family:georgia;"><span style="font-family:verdana;"><big><big><big><b>notes:</b></big></big></big><br /><br /></span></span></span><ul><li><span style="font-family:verdana;"><a href="http://www.eco-royalty.net/2009/09/twitter-bbq.html">how did i miss my homie writing up our bbq?</a></span></li><li><span style="font-family:verdana;"><a href="http://www.sfgate.com/cgi-bin/blogs/mbauer/detail?blogid=26&entry_id=48118">oh come on now.</a> thanks for bringing on trouble.</span></li><li><span style="font-family:verdana;">Jesse came into Nopa and wrote about it <a href="http://beerandnosh.com/2009/09/nopa/">here</a>. <a href="http://beerandnosh.com/notoberfest/">he's also putting on notoberfest with Ryan Farr on October 10th.</a></span></li><li><span style="font-family:verdana;">have you seen <a href="http://vb.ly/">Violet's URL shortener?</a></span></li><li><span style="font-family:verdana;">8 pages in, and my moleskin is falling apart</span></li><li><span style="font-family:verdana;">that sound you heard this afternoon was brett favre breaking my damn heart</span></li><li><span style="font-family:verdana;">really chef2chef? top 100 food blogs? does this site even count as a food blog anymore?</span></li><li><span style="font-family:verdana;"><a href="http://www.sfgate.com/cgi-bin/article.cgi?f=/c/a/2009/09/27/FD9G19MTRL.DTL">hm.</a><br /></span></li><li><span style="font-family:verdana;">thank you interpol, avett brothers, and tv on the radio for getting me where I needed to go this week</span></li></ul><span style="font-family:Courier New;"><br /><big><u><big><big><b>quotes and conversations. extended sexy tv pop culture science fiction folsom street fair edition.</b></big></big></u></big><br /><br />"Never trust a cook that wear cologne."<br />-<b>Corey</b>. Prefers a natural musk.<br /><br /><b>Ponder</b>: Fuckin' Stand By Me. Makes me cry every time.<br /><b>Me</b>: You are the corniest tattooed punk guy I know.<br /><b>Ponder</b>: His boy gets stabbed in the throat and dies.<br /><b>Me, to Merrell</b>: Will you dab that up for him?<br />(<i>Long pause</i>)<br /><b>Merrell</b>: Oh. Did you mean his vagina?<br /><br /><b>Gerardo</b>: I was trying to be gentile.<br /><b>Me</b>: Gerardo, gentile and gentle are not the same thing.<br /><br />"Usually you give me four more inches and I don't have to bend over as much."<br />-<b>Ponder</b>. Likes a taller prep table and cutting board.<br /><br /><b>Me</b>: 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?<br /><b>Camaal</b>: (<i>Nods</i>)<br /><b>Me</b>: Paulie, you catch all that?<br /><b>Paulie</b>: Bruce Willis with hair?<br />(<i>45 Minutes pass</i>)<br /><b>Me</b>: It's like Scully and Mulder on the X-Files.<br /><b>Camaal</b>: Si, claro.<br /><br /><b>Eddie</b>: Dude, you didn't tell me boning down with 400 people would hurt so much.<br /><b>Me</b>: Well have you ever boned down two times in a row? It hurts.<br /><b>Goose</b>: Yeah, but sometimes you just gotta push through.<br /><br /><b>Me</b>: 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.<br /><b>Corey</b>: Peter Scolari. Don't ask me how I knew that.<br /><br /><b>Merrell</b>: I just don't like that they think they can act any way they want because they're pretty.<br /><b>Me</b>: But look at Ponder.<br /><b>Goose</b>: Look at me!<br /><b>Ponder</b>: I'm not sure if we just made our point or lost the argument.<br /><br /><b>Me</b>: Don't you feel like you have more energy now that you're eating better?<br /><b>Merrell</b>: About the same.<br /><b>Me</b>: Don't you feel like you have more energy now that you're drinking less?<br /><b>Merrell</b>: I'm not really drinking less.<br /><br />"What kind of dom are you? You're not into leather??"<br />-<b>Eddie</b>. A good leather loving dom.<br /><br /><b>Eddie</b>: Next time I want to see you pound that cheese like you fuckin' mean it.<br /><b>Me</b>: Who's being the dom now?<br /><b>Eddie</b>: Tables are turned huh?<br /><b>Me</b>: Yeah. I will slap you right in the face.<br /><b>Eddie</b>: On my giant chin.<br /><br /><b>Me</b>: Did you just say sci-fi fantasies?<br /><b>Eddie</b>: Yeah, sci-fi.<br /><b>Me</b>: Well, I did write that erotic fan fiction centered around Princess Leia's copper bikini.<br /><b>Eddie</b>: Did you really?<br /><b>Me</b>: Yes. That's what I did yesterday.<br /><b>Eddie</b>: Well? You are a writer...<br /><b>Me</b>: Go cut a flatbread you whore.<br /><br /><b>Ponder</b>: Where's Stevie Wonder? I don't wanna get caught staring.<br /><b>Me</b>: Dude, he's blind.<br /><b>Ponder</b>: I know he's blind!!<br /><br />"You're looking a little yellow. No, not racially."<br />-<b>Merrell</b>. Racially sensitive.<br /><br /><img src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2642/3950432458_f61d88813f_m.jpg" style="max-width: 800px;" /><img src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2669/3949654723_3d9ed69c2e_m.jpg" style="max-width: 800px;" /><img src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2436/3949655243_af47aa6139_m.jpg" style="max-width: 800px;" /><img src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2504/3949655787_de2ca06d1a_m.jpg" style="max-width: 800px;" /><img src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2629/3950434992_7d90fb8a7b_m.jpg" style="max-width: 800px;" /><img src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2557/3950435506_e2e437d9be_m.jpg" style="max-width: 800px;" /><img src="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3489/3949657951_77b1b568d4_m.jpg" style="max-width: 800px;" /><img src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2445/3960435885_df4656d0a4_m.jpg" style="max-width: 800px;" /><img src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2519/3960437143_06629db665_m.jpg" style="max-width: 800px;" /><img src="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3481/3960434733_f6cceb512e_m.jpg" style="max-width: 800px;" /><br />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<br /></span><br /><br /><div class="zemanta-pixie"><img src="http://img.zemanta.com/pixy.gif?x-id=a0f02276-90a4-897c-aaad-bdf6bfd11044" alt="" class="zemanta-pixie-img" /></div></div>Richiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09941245006346350955noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4816829458403939488.post-26106858742267886262009-09-21T12:14:00.001-07:002009-09-21T12:14:56.141-07:00Moderation.<div xmlns='http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml'><big><font face='Times New Roman'>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. <br/><br/>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?<br/><br/>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 <i>real</i> cook, right?<br/><br/>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?<br/><br/>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?<br/><br/>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. <br/><br/>"All things in moderation, including moderation."<br/></font></big><div class='quoteText'> <big><font face='Times New Roman'>— <a title='view all quotes by Mark Twain' class='authorNameRegular' href='http://www.goodreads.com/author/quotes/1655.Mark_Twain'>Mark Twain</a></font></big><br/><br/> <br/></div><big><big><big><big><u><b>notes:</b></u></big></big></big></big><br/><br/><ul><li>there was talk this week of mongoose on all fours, wearing a leash and collar, being held by ponder. </li><li>no, there was no writing in blood on my mirror. but thank you for your concern.</li><li><a href='http://sf.eater.com/archives/2009/09/18/eater_poll_on_the_twitter_decorum_of_bauer_buddies.php'>oh snap.</a></li><li>who knew that pork bones are so hard to come by?</li><li>congratulations to Ryan Farr and Cessaly on the birth of their new baby boy!</li><li>im down for composting, but this little green bin the city gave me just isn't cutting it</li></ul><br/><br/><big><big><big><big><u><b><font face='Courier New'>quotes and conversations.</font></b></u></big></big></big></big><br/><br/><br/><font face='Courier New'><i>I'm pouring molasses into a pot.</i><br/><b>Me:</b> Black tar heroin...<br/><b>Goose</b>: I smoke that stuff in rehab one time.<br/><b>Me</b>: Goose, rehab isn't for smoking black tar heroin! It's for picking up on vulnerable women!<br/><br/>"Abuelita. I like Grandmas."<br/><b>-Camaal</b><br/><br/><b>Corey</b>: Hey dude, if I were single would you bone down with me?<br/><b>Me</b>: No. (long pause) If I were single would you bone down with me?<br/><b>Corey:</b> Hell yeah dude.<br/><b>Me</b>: I thought so. Sorry about that.<br/><br/><b>Me</b>: What color is that guys fixie?<br/><b>Dega</b>: He doesn't ride a fixie. Didn't you see how fat he is?<br/><br/><b>Goose</b>: Who got the plastic wrap?<br/><b>Merrell</b>: Yo mama.<br/><b>Goose</b>: My mama didn't use plastic wrap. That's how I came to be.<br/><br/>"I not that beautiful, I not that handsome. But I am fucking chingon."<br/>-<b>Camaal</b>.<br/><br/>"I guess for some people it would feel good to hold someone's cock, but for me it would be really, really strange."<br/>-<b>Mongoose</b>.</font><br/><br/><img src='http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2430/3933212432_4219e608f2_m.jpg' style='max-width: 800px;'/><img src='http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2669/3933213100_0988233617_m.jpg' style='max-width: 800px;'/><img src='http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3478/3933213762_a9c912ab9e_m.jpg' style='max-width: 800px;'/><img src='http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3506/3932433093_d148ab17ab_m.jpg' style='max-width: 800px;'/><br/><img src='http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2422/3933215600_cb9e2b953c_m.jpg' style='max-width: 800px;'/><img src='http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2556/3933216378_251ed36dd7_m.jpg' style='max-width: 800px;'/><img src='http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2517/3933217022_13fc945e7b_m.jpg' style='max-width: 800px;'/><img src='http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2574/3932592567_36bda91a1d_m.jpg' style='max-width: 800px;'/><img src='http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2508/3933376660_ffe80b72fd_m.jpg' style='max-width: 800px;'/><img src='http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3430/3933375338_eb4110ea0f_m.jpg' style='max-width: 800px;'/><img src='http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3431/3935525769_13f2c2a9ac_m.jpg' style='max-width: 800px;'/><img src='http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2626/3941995534_4b38651137_m.jpg' style='max-width: 800px;'/><br/><img src='http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2472/3941212769_7fca0f713e_m.jpg' style='max-width: 800px;'/><img src='http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2464/3941209981_0b6ededa65_m.jpg' style='max-width: 800px;'/><img src='http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3499/3936309456_91a53dc714_m.jpg' style='max-width: 800px;'/><br/>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<br/><br/><div class='zemanta-pixie'><img src='http://img.zemanta.com/pixy.gif?x-id=d84dbb9a-e4b8-87fb-86c6-ce062085e641' alt='' class='zemanta-pixie-img'/></div></div>Richiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09941245006346350955noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4816829458403939488.post-30513451000808929272009-09-20T11:38:00.001-07:002009-09-20T11:38:57.709-07:00Podcast 2.2 - Just the Two of Us.<div xmlns='http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml'><big><big><font face='monospace'><a href='http://cdn2.libsyn.com/linecook/Podcast_2.2.mp3?nvb=20090920182812&nva=20090921183812&t=0d0f674a4afaec236a7b5'>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.</a><br/><br/>3:35 - Calling Corey<br/>6:00 - An email/Changes in the kitchen<br/>15:39 - That question I asked you earlier.../Cooking for self<br/>21:08 - Look at all the people on the Twitters<br/>23:03 - Chef cliches<br/>32:55 - OUR twitter friends?<br/><br/>No podcast next week, but we'll be back the first week in October.<br/><br/>Opening song: Robots In the Garden by Autolux<br/></font></big></big><br/><br/><div class='zemanta-pixie'><img src='http://img.zemanta.com/pixy.gif?x-id=2d348619-5787-8ef4-acad-c5973ebc94a3' alt='' class='zemanta-pixie-img'/></div></div>Richiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09941245006346350955noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4816829458403939488.post-28140900749986334242009-09-12T21:37:00.000-07:002009-09-12T21:39:34.531-07:00Perfect?<div xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml"><u><b><span class="status-body"><span class="entry-content">Question of the week: Is there such a thing as a "perfect" dish? Have you eaten one? Have you cooked one? What was it?</span></span></b></u><br /><span class="status-body"><strong><a title="Liberty Huang" class="screen-name" href="http://twitter.com/libertyhuang">libertyhuang</a></strong><img title="Liberty huang’s tweets are protected." src="http://a2.twimg.com/a/1252620925/images/icon_lock.gif" class="lock" alt="Icon_lock" /><span class="entry-content">@<a href="http://twitter.com/linecook" class="tweet-url username">linecook</a> My Uncle Jerry's braised pork belly is my fav dish ever.<br /></span></span><span class="status-body"><strong><a title="Ginger Pierce" class="screen-name" href="http://twitter.com/Gingerthegirl">Gingerthegirl</a></strong><span class="entry-content">@<a href="http://twitter.com/linecook" class="tweet-url username">linecook</a> 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.<br /></span></span><span class="status-body"><strong><a title="Dave Shepherd" class="screen-name" href="http://twitter.com/shepdave">shepdave</a></strong><span class="entry-content">@<a href="http://twitter.com/linecook" class="tweet-url username">linecook</a> no such thing as a "perfect" dish. 4 me every dish is an evolution 2wards the best possible dish. that said:sushi@tsukiji =perfect<br /></span></span><span class="status-body"><strong><a title="Jessica Pavlovich" class="screen-name" href="http://twitter.com/JessPav">JessPav</a></strong><span class="entry-content">@<a href="http://twitter.com/linecook" class="tweet-url username">linecook</a> 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.<br /></span></span><span class="status-body"><strong><a title="Robert Faucette" class="screen-name" href="http://twitter.com/RFaucette">RFaucette</a></strong><span class="entry-content">@<a href="http://twitter.com/linecook" class="tweet-url username">linecook</a> 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.<br /></span></span><span class="status-body"><strong><a title="rupski23" class="screen-name" href="http://twitter.com/rupski23">rupski23</a></strong><span class="entry-content">@<a href="http://twitter.com/linecook" class="tweet-url username">linecook</a> I think perfect meals can be acheived more often than we think. Often, it's a question of being perfect for that moment</span></span><br /><span class="status-body"><strong><a title="Chris Seyersdahl" class="screen-name" href="http://twitter.com/sfmongoose">sfmongoose</a></strong><span class="entry-content">@<a href="http://twitter.com/linecook" class="tweet-url username">linecook</a> yaaaaa........... my calamari dishes hahaha<br /></span></span><span class="status-body"><strong><a title="Michael Therieau" class="screen-name" href="http://twitter.com/Pav1ov">Pav1ov</a></strong><span class="entry-content">@<a href="http://twitter.com/linecook" class="tweet-url username">linecook</a> 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 </span><a href="http://twitter.com/Pav1ov/status/3732614037">...</a><span class="meta entry-meta"><br /><a rel="bookmark" class="entry-date" href="http://twitter.com/Pav1ov/status/3732614037"><span class="published"></span></a></span></span><span class="status-body"><strong><a title="Chris Bennett" class="screen-name" href="http://twitter.com/hollowspring">hollowspring</a></strong><span class="entry-content">@<a href="http://twitter.com/linecook" class="tweet-url username">linecook</a> The best is wild strawberries just picked from the plant.<br /></span></span><span class="status-body"><strong><a title="MatthewSievert" class="screen-name" href="http://twitter.com/MatthewSievert">MatthewSievert</a></strong><span class="entry-content">@<a href="http://twitter.com/linecook" class="tweet-url username">linecook</a> I feel good when I execute good food for others. Obtaining perfection or eating perfection can be a curse and a goal.<br /></span></span><span class="status-body"><strong><a title="Chris Narvaez" class="screen-name" href="http://twitter.com/CNrecords">CNrecords</a></strong><span class="entry-content">@<a href="http://twitter.com/linecook" class="tweet-url username">linecook</a> the perfect dish after surfing is either; a) smoked fish sandwich w/ tomato and cold drink or b) burger and a cold drink.<br /></span></span><span class="status-body"><strong><a title="HAL" class="screen-name" href="http://twitter.com/HeatherHAL">HeatherHAL</a></strong><span class="entry-content">@<a href="http://twitter.com/linecook" class="tweet-url username">linecook</a> I think perfection lies in the simple things, like a roasted chicken. I'm getting there!<br /></span></span><span class="status-body"><strong><a title="Diana Yin" class="screen-name" href="http://twitter.com/dianasaurusrex">dianasaurusrex</a></strong><span class="entry-content">@<a href="http://twitter.com/linecook" class="tweet-url username">linecook</a> 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!<br /></span></span><span class="status-body"><strong><a title="Marcia Gagliardi" class="screen-name" href="http://twitter.com/tablehopper">tablehopper</a></strong><span class="entry-content"> perfect dishes: the watermelon pickle/pork belly number at fatty crab, and the cha ca la vong version at betelnut haunts me.</span></span><br /><br />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.<br />"That's a bad ass dish. Everything works. It's just...."<br />"Perfect."<br />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.<br /><br />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.<br /><br />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?<br /><br /><br /><span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"><u><b><big><big><big><big>notes:</big></big></big></big></b></u><br /></span><ul><li><big><span style="font-family:Times New Roman;">buzz aldrin and buzz lightyear. not the same.</span></big></li><li><big><span style="font-family:Times New Roman;">maritess loves it when I wear v-neck t-shirts</span></big></li><li><big><span style="font-family:Times New Roman;">broccoli di cicco and a soft boiled egg = the perfect mid shift snack</span></big></li><li><big><span style="font-family:Times New Roman;">go buy the morning benders ep. right now.</span></big></li><li><big><span style="font-family:Times New Roman;">podcasts are back next week!<br /></span></big></li><li><big><span style="font-family:Times New Roman;">only eating vegetables for dinner doesn't seem so crazy anymore</span></big></li><li><big><span style="font-family:Times New Roman;">i get the feeling im going to have a lot of news for you guys in the following months</span></big></li><li><big><span style="font-family:Times New Roman;">more thunder and lightning please. just not striking nick and janessa's house.</span></big></li><li><big><span style="font-family:Times New Roman;">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 <a href="http://boobs4food.com/post/181311723/twitter-park-party-part1">here</a> <a href="http://boobs4food.com/post/181316575/twitter-park-party-part2">(boobs4food)</a> and here <a href="http://lickmyspoon.com/sfeats/tweety-park-party/">(lickmyspoon)</a></span></big></li></ul><br /><big><big><span style="font-family:monospace;"><span style="font-size:130%;"><u><b>quotes and conversations.</b></u></span><br /><br />"You wanna see my bare minimum? I'll show you my sugar lumps too."<br />-<b>Corey</b>. Wants to share.<br /><br /><b>Dega</b>: New rule. If you call me Dega, you have to say "Degaba."<br /><b>Me</b>: Why, do you have swampy pants?<br />(<i>that's a star wars jokes for the uninitiated</i>)<br /><br /><b>Me</b>: Did you know that if you plant a lobster in the ground you can grow lobster mushrooms?<br /><b>Eddie</b>: That's gross.<br /><b>Merrell</b>: That's not true. Is it?<br /><br />"You should be pounding Gatorade right now. Or something."<br />-<b>Dega</b>.<br /><br />"Coyotes saved his life."<br />-<b>Camaal</b>. Has a hilarious story about Gerardo being raised by coyotes.<br /><br /><b>Me</b>: Gerardo, come massage Ponder's ass.<br /><b>Gerardo</b>: Deep tissue?<br /><br /><b>Me</b>: How about a nice garden salad, or some whole grains?<br /><b>Corey</b>: I had a green salad for dinner last night. (pause) I lied. I had pizza and melted brie on crostini.<br /><br /><b>Me</b>: Dega, I see you returned to the look.<br /><b>Dega</b>: What? What did you say?<br /><b>Me</b>: I said you're a stupid hipster and I hate your guts.<br /><b>Dega</b>: I hate you even more!<br /><br />"Hey dude. I pooped on my pen."<br /><b>-Corey</b>. He really did poop on his pen.<br /><br /><b>Me</b>: We should grate it on a sharkskin.<br /><b>Al</b>: I have one of those at home. I have a whole shark!<br /><br />"If you wear an Ed Hardy shirt, that's a deal breaker."<br /><b>-Mongoose.</b> And he's right.<br /></span></big></big><br /><br /><img src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2581/3912790831_6b4a5e5e15_m.jpg" style="max-width: 800px;" /><img src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2438/3895400713_046fdb3424_m.jpg" style="max-width: 800px;" /><img src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2434/3895398995_542cd52289_m.jpg" style="max-width: 800px;" /><img src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2634/3895399941_88a401aa35_m.jpg" style="max-width: 800px;" /><img src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2617/3896180174_a35c1fc8d2_m.jpg" style="max-width: 800px;" /><img src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2663/3895395553_43798a4996_m.jpg" style="max-width: 800px;" /><img src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2574/3896177404_153a9cce7e_m.jpg" style="max-width: 800px;" /><img src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2580/3896175250_f2809c1f51_m.jpg" style="max-width: 800px;" /><img src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2503/3892165246_343f67568d_m.jpg" style="max-width: 800px;" /><img src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2518/3892163092_21a5b1d816_m.jpg" style="max-width: 800px;" /><img src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2539/3892162282_e45fb23938_m.jpg" style="max-width: 800px;" /><img src="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3473/3892161534_43b76b9d6c_m.jpg" style="max-width: 800px;" /><img src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2508/3892160776_9cdb7cb94c_m.jpg" style="max-width: 800px;" /><img src="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3430/3892158556_99d407d125_m.jpg" style="max-width: 800px;" /><img src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2598/3891368821_890fd5c714_m.jpg" style="max-width: 800px;" /><img src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2635/3891368073_ea042d8a0f_m.jpg" style="max-width: 800px;" /><img src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2424/3891367607_9c38c161dd_m.jpg" style="max-width: 800px;" /><img src="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3517/3892155782_fb9354b6cf_m.jpg" style="max-width: 800px;" /><img src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2543/3892154568_0844508f9a_m.jpg" style="max-width: 800px;" /><img src="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3492/3892152454_e467435c30_m.jpg" style="max-width: 800px;" /><img src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2633/3891361315_896caa8c70_m.jpg" style="max-width: 800px;" /><img src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2644/3892149140_bfd82f33bf_m.jpg" style="max-width: 800px;" /><img src="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3437/3891359625_d79b187f77_m.jpg" style="max-width: 800px;" /><img src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2649/3891358077_1c539c14a8_m.jpg" style="max-width: 800px;" /><br /><br />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<br /><br /><div class="zemanta-pixie"><img src="http://img.zemanta.com/pixy.gif?x-id=7a753533-85d1-84b3-bcb5-c3f924c2e501" alt="" class="zemanta-pixie-img" /></div></div>Richiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09941245006346350955noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4816829458403939488.post-56302539692192603682009-08-31T12:15:00.001-07:002009-09-01T03:05:46.741-07:00New York<div xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml">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.<br /><br />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.<br /><br />Flying into New York on a red-eye, I couldn't sleep at all. I typed this out on my phone:<br /><small><i>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.<br />We're on a redeye. I can't sleep.<br />Usually on a trip like this I feel like I have a lot of thinking to do, and this trip is no exception.<br />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.<br />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.<br />Being here makes me feel older, but still somehow connected back to my youth. I've been here so many times.</i></small><br /><br />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.<br /><br />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.<br /><br />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.<br /><br />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.<br /><br /><small style="font-style: italic;">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.<br />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.<br />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. </small><br /><br /><big><big><big><big><b>notes:</b></big></big></big></big><br /><br /><ul><li>this saturday is our barbeque in golden gate park. pot luck style, super casual...email us for details. <a href="http://us.mc828.mail.yahoo.com/mc/compose?to=Tweetyparkparty@gmail.com" ymailto="mailto:Tweetyparkparty@gmail.com"><span id="lw_1251745632_2" class="yshortcuts">Tweetyparkparty@gmail.com</span></a></li><li><span id="lw_1251745632_2" class="yshortcuts">I dunno, I like the SF heat.</span></li><li><span id="lw_1251745632_2" class="yshortcuts">I've said it before, but lets go again: Flour & Water = one of the best restaurants in SF</span></li><li><span id="lw_1251745632_2" class="yshortcuts"><a href="http://hungrycupboard.blogspot.com/2009/08/san-francisco-part-second.html">Ingrid's trip to SF</a></span></li><li><span id="lw_1251745632_2" class="yshortcuts">That well done burger? Yeah, it's not gonna be done right away.</span></li><li><span id="lw_1251745632_2" class="yshortcuts">That was a long blogging break. Time to get back on track.<br /></span></li></ul><br /><b><u><big><big><big><big><span style="font-family:monospace;">quotes and conversations.</span></big></big></big></big></u></b><br /><br /><big><span style="font-family:monospace;"><b>Rachel</b>: Please wear pants.<br /><b>Corey</b>: If I ever have a restaurant, it's going to be jacket and tie required. Pants optional.<br /><br />"Did I ever tell you about my cellmate? He had marbles in his dick."<br /><b>-Mongoose</b>.<br /><br />"Did she really say i'm a bad twitterrer?"<br /><b>-Corey</b>. A bad twitterrer.<br /><br />"You were in my dream last night, trying to keep me from hooking up with skanky tortas."<br /><b>-Ponder</b>. <br /><br /><b>Camaal</b>: Hey rosita. Una joto pan para pollo.<br /><b>Mongoose</b>: <i>(Blank stare)</i><br /><b>Me</b>: A hotel pan. Not a joto pan.<br /><b>Camaal</b>: I cannot speaking well.<br /><br /><b>Me</b>: Maritess, you ok?<br /><b>Maritess</b>: Yeah.<br /><b>Me</b>: You want Ponder to take off his shirt?<br /><b>Maritess</b>: Not yet.<br /><b>Camaal</b>: Woooooowwwww.<br /><b>Paulie</b>: Ponder's doing a second show?<br /><br />"Khaki pants are for young guys that think they're gang members."<br /><b>-Mongoose.</b><br /><br /><b>Me, to Camaal</b>: He's a magician, just like you.<br /><b>Camaal</b>: <i>(Laughs)</i><br /><b>Ponder</b>: He'll pull your dick out of your pants.<br /><br /><b>Me</b>: Name a country that starts with the letter D.<br /><b>Mongoose</b>: Delaware!<br /><b>Me</b>: Delaware is a state.<br /><b>Mongoose</b>: Ooooohhhhh.<br /><br /><b>Camaal</b>: I needing little yems.<br /><b>Mongoose</b>: <i>(Blank stare)</i><br /><b>Me</b>: Little gems.<br /><b>Mongoose</b>: I thought he said lil' jimmy's...like he needed a finger condom.<br /><br /><b>Me</b>: What's a fortnight?<br /><b>Corey</b>: I dunno. Four or five nights? The night before? A month and a half?<br /><b>Amy</b>: I like fart night better.<br /><br /><b>Me</b>: Gerardo, what are you like when you're drunk?<br /><b>Gerardo</b>: What do I like?<br /><b>Me</b>: No, what are you like.<br /><b>Gerardo</b>: Oh! Totally different questions!</span></big><br /><br /><img src="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3555/3771147031_181d59a6cd_m.jpg" style="max-width: 800px;" /><img src="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3542/3790104587_29df3a2b94_m.jpg" style="max-width: 800px;" /><img src="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3181/3790930266_47c267c88a_m.jpg" style="max-width: 800px;" /><img src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2489/3790122225_d221aa3677_m.jpg" style="max-width: 800px;" /><img src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2628/3790123461_b9e3b7fc8b_m.jpg" style="max-width: 800px;" /><img src="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3568/3790942920_3dc6400be9_m.jpg" style="max-width: 800px;" /><img src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2672/3824042325_fa321e44e6_m.jpg" style="max-width: 800px;" /><img src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2504/3824845158_37852347d2_m.jpg" style="max-width: 800px;" /><img src="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3521/3824849832_fbfcce56fd_m.jpg" style="max-width: 800px;" /><img src="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3282/3824048581_7b3a58447a_m.jpg" style="max-width: 800px;" /><img src="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3472/3824857238_9c378ae20e_m.jpg" style="max-width: 800px;" /><img src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2623/3824055871_ee3100e5a1_m.jpg" style="max-width: 800px;" /><img src="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3577/3824061783_4c0b360feb_m.jpg" style="max-width: 800px;" /><img src="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3556/3824877644_2672113fe0_m.jpg" style="max-width: 800px;" /><img src="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3456/3824076589_1a38d2775e_m.jpg" style="max-width: 800px;" /><img src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2446/3824881204_ba98ea8e23_m.jpg" style="max-width: 800px;" /><br /><img src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2447/3824881926_670ec1388c_m.jpg" style="max-width: 800px;" /><img src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2534/3824886414_720d454b34_m.jpg" style="max-width: 800px;" /><img src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2471/3824087497_7935a846b3_m.jpg" style="max-width: 800px;" /><br />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<br /><br /><div class="zemanta-pixie"><img src="http://img.zemanta.com/pixy.gif?x-id=e252ddbe-2942-8e6d-86bd-306d1a0cfe01" alt="" class="zemanta-pixie-img" /></div></div>Richiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09941245006346350955noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4816829458403939488.post-23574657161127849022009-08-08T22:00:00.000-07:002009-08-09T02:17:22.382-07:00Podcast Season 2, Episode 1<a href="http://cdn3.libsyn.com/linecook/Podcast_2.1.m4a?nvb=20090809090616&nva=20090810091616&t=0753450773d2488c38829">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.<br /><br />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.</a><br /><br />Topics were:<br />Pres A Vi - 6:30<br />A New Kind of Restaurant - 11:24<br />Street Food - 13:30<br />Everyone Loves Brandon Jew - 23:25<br />Declining Standards? - 25:14<br />What is Rustic? - 39:45<br />What did I Miss? - 46:36<br />Market Report! - 48:01<br /><br />Intro music is The Truth by Handsome Boy Modeling SchoolRichiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09941245006346350955noreply@blogger.com2