two chefs. and a whole lot of other stuff.

two chefs.

a while ago I wrote about three chefs that I had worked with that had an impact on me--they changed the way I looked at food and cooking in general.  now as I go deeper into the jungle that is cooking, i've come across two more chefs that have made me take pause and appreciate what we do. 



Ann Merrell.

I hired Ann at Pres a Vi.  We worked together, and for a while it was all good...and then it wasn't.  To ask her to give a number value to how much she hated me then, she says "9."  When I arrived at Nopa, and we needed a sautee cook, Merrell came in and killed it--running the station on her stage.  Former co-workers of ours were baffled that we would work together.  But a sincere apology and many busy services later, we're friends.  Merrell is considered the best sautee cook in the kitchen, and her progression and passion for the kitchen life has won her the respect of all the cooks.  (She's also been mentioned as a future sous chef.)  To have a cook that you know you can constantly challenge and push is a comforting feeling--and knowing that Merrell is cooking can be enough to put you at ease.  She's a friend, and I hope I get to cook with her for a long time to come.


Corey Nead.

If you read this blog, you know who Corey is.  He says funny shit--usually crude, innuendo filled self depricating stuff.  What you dont know about him is that he is a deeply talented cook.  Grilling, sausage making, and a homemade ice cream making habit that is slightly suspicious are all components of this cook.  He has a relentless thirst for cooking knowledge, and had the notebooks to prove it.  Cooking with him on the line is great, but it's the quiet one on one moments where he is at his best.  His sausage and charcuterie have a bit of a following at Nopa, and now that he is moving into the AM sous chef role, it's going to be interesting to see what he brings to the menu.  Having him around just seems to make everything a little more fun. 



contradictions about linecook415.

1. im not a linecook anymore.  i've been a sous chef for 4 years now.  i could still serve your ass up on sautee though.
2. despite all my talk about being in kitchen and giving yourself over to cooking, I recently chose to take Fridays and Saturdays off to spend more time with my wife.
3. i live in the 415, but the area code on my cell phone is 925.
4. i'm one of the worst blog readers around. 
   
5. this blog was meant for me and the cooks I work with.  didn't really turn out that way.
   

notes:

• 210 covers in three hours is a lot.
• pauls nicknames this week were boner and mosh pit.
  
• sometimes I just wish Bourdain would keep his mouth shut.  He talks shit on the orthodoxy of alice waters, and doesn't realize that he has his own orthodoxy...
  
• a girl was mad at matty because she said he called her fat.  the next night i saw her wearing a dress that was tearing at the seams.  i shit you not.
  
• sometimes I love San Francisco so much it hurts.  like loving your favorite band when you were 13 hurt.
• speaking of SF, it's interesting how different the city looks during different weather.  its like seeing it for the first time some days.
• if you need good cooking music, play barracuda by heart.  put it on repeat.
• cooking is not a competition.
• if you go to bevmo, make sure that the price tag on your bourbon says $28.99, and not $289.99, as this can lead to an emberrassing moment at the register.

quotes and conversations

"Oh, that's what I smell."
-Merrell, whose towel was on fire.

Me:  "You look like George Clooney in the first season of ER."
Al:  "Oh really?  I used to have a picture of that guy in my closet."

Me:  "Here dude, have some beet juice."
Corey:  "That's ok.  I make beet juice every morning in the shower."

"Al's kinda funny.  Like a fat kid got ice cream on his face funny."
-Corey, who makes great ice cream.

"You can get the handjob, but you can't get the thirty dollars."
-Paul, who is thrifty.

Me:  "There's essential oils in nuts."
Speez:  "You've got essential oils on your nuts."

Me:  "It's not a democratic system, it's a socialist system."
Ponder:  "Yeah, you should know about that one Frenchy."
-on trying to convince Paul to buy Asahi's

Paul:  "It was getting old, so I was trying to use it less."
Me:  "Oh, just like your dick."
-on the way Paul calls back fry time.  he took a lot of shit this week.

Chef:  "Ponder's done a lot of mushrooms.  You can tell."
Me:  "Really?"
Ponder:  "Oh yeah."
Me:  "I've drank a lot of kombucha, so it's almost the same thing."
Chef:  "I've eaten a lot of mushroom pizzas."


from top:  dinner, nopalito masa grinder, amy, organic eggs, chicories, fried sage, 4 qts of garlic takes a long time, tortellini, filthy clogs, fizzy lizzy tattoos, dim sum, goose, merrell, coffee at blue bottle, corey, my suspension form from 1996.  Mom still had it.

photos via flickr by metagrrrl and violet blue

photos via flickr by Jamison Litten, who is a considerably more talented photographer than I am.

Scarred.

Every restaurant you work in leaves a mark on you. Sometimes it's just a scrape, sometimes it's a scar, and sometimes it leaves you tattooed--you're changed forever. Your scrapes are probably few. The impact of these kitchens may have hit you hard enough initially, but in time those marks will fade, along with your memories of these places. What were the dishes we were cooking there? Who was that guy I worked pantry with? Was there even a chef there? Often these places were your stepping stones. These are the places that didn't inspire you....or they did inspire you, until you realized that Thai/Mexican fusion wasn't your thing, and you split. These places don't really remember you either. When you go by for a visit (if they're still in business) you recognize no one. The menu is full of the same stuff you were cooking years ago. The only change is that the floors are a little more worn, and the kitchen has a new layer of grease. The lessons you took away with you seem remedial now; learning what the sanitizer dispenser looks like, what a 600 pan is, and how to dice shallots to name a few. You might even leave this place off of your resume.


A restaurant that scars you usually does so physically and mentally. Im not talking emotional scars, although there might be a few of those. Im talking about a change in the way you approach your work...that eventually starts to spill over into your personal life. Your inner clock starts to adjust to your nocturnal lifestyle. When you walk the crowded aisles of a grocery store you say "behind you." Your technique starts to come around, and you start to understand the language of the kitchen. Spanish starts to pop up when you're talking to your friends. Food looks different now. Eating out, you can identify ingredients, techniques, and see a chefs style coming out. These scars are your foundation, and these years are the ones you refer to as the good old bad old days. You pay your dues here, and come away with confidence, and hunger for the next challenge.

The kitchens that tattoo you are the most rare. These places hold a place in your heart reserved for family, your boyfriend or girlfriend, and anything else deeply important to you. After working here you talk differently. You listen differently. Your very DNA morphs into something new. And it goes both ways. You leave your mark, and you can see it rubbing off on others daily. Everyone uses the same phrases, and holds themselves to the same standards. Conversations ramble on and on about cooking. Time spent out of the kitchen is still spent together, as a team, eating out or going to markets. On your days off you miss the kitchen. You look back on yourself before you came here, and that person is almost unrecognizable.

So the question is, how are you leaving your mark? Is your impact something positive? Are you contributing something? Are you a part of it? Or just skirting along the edges? Do the other cooks mimic your style? Do they listen when you speak? Are you able to see the big picture--balancing the personal side and the business side? Is everyone working towards the same goals? Is everyone even comfortable talking about their goals? Will your time spent here be something that influences and changes the other cooks careers?

a quick rant.

are you finding yourself dreading work? do you stand there with your arms folded, a sour look on your face, and a shitty attitude during service? are you just going through the motions, working towards your friday? are you interested in progressing anymore? do you communicate through shrugs and mumbled insults? have you gotten too comfortable? if so, then please fuck off and stop cooking already. if you really do love cooking, then please go cook somewhere that suits you. no one is chained to their job--so stop being a baby and acting like you can't leave. do something you probably haven't done in your entire career and take a motherfucking risk. so what if you fall flat on your face? at least then you'll have perspective. thank you, you may now continue reading.

Quotes:

-Al: "Harissa and yogurt? Yorissa."
-Me: "Or hogurt."
-Al: "Hagurt you mean."

-Corey, talking about the puppy cam: "They're called Shinju's or something."
-Me: "Shinju's a ninja."
-Corey: "Well, they're ninja dogs."

-Corey, talking to Al: "Don't ever write on my underwear ever again."



from top: shaving the whiskers off guanciale, thirteen pork chops at once, dirty girl tomatoes, gibraltar at blue bottle, the blue bottle stand, calzone at dopo, the tuesday market crew, dr feelgood is really old, green vans, my worn out ninja shoes, the bunny primps, an empty ferry plaza, an empty seat at slanted door, some snacks and whiskey at the door.

Four Star Coffee (Blue Bottle Cafe, San Francisco)

I'm on my week off right now...having wrapped things up at PAV on Sunday. There was a lot of goodbyes, and hugs, and booze. I'll be following up on all this madness tomorrow, but today is all about Blue Bottle Cafe, which today turned one week old.

I love Blue Bottle. I'm addicted to Blue Bottle. I drink a full press pot, to the head, every morning. My days off are planned around trips to either their Linden kiosk or the farmers market. A restaurant having Blue Bottle on the menu will become a reason in it's own for a visit. I've been known to drink a small press pot at 1:30 am with dessert at Nopa. The farmers market(s) and kiosk are great. They bring with them a certain indie cool opting out special trip kinda vibe. Linden especially has a cool feeling, with bike messengers, tech folks, and restaurant industry all mingling over lattes and drip coffees.

The cafe does not feel like this at all. Don't get me wrong--there are plenty of young, hip, in the know people hanging out. Alot of familiar Blue Bottle folks man the counter, and the $20,000 Japanese siphon bar. They menu looks the same, although yesterday there was a guy in chef coat making sandwiches, which sit pretty in a case next to the register.

The whole operation, with everyone in black dress shirts and aprons, and the immaculate shelves and counters, looks like a fine dining (drinking?) spot. There are newspapers to read, and no one is in the corner chair using their laptop. Yet. Still, simply said, it's a stunner.

There has already been plenty of coverage and buzz....here, here, and here. You need to go...if only for the theatre of that crazy machine.

They give you candy with your coffee. What more could you want?

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