What you want.

I used to think I knew what I wanted.   A four star restaurant.  The finest equipment and ingredients.  A hand picked team of the finest cooks I worked with on my way up, doing it our way, creating the best food.  The next big thing.  I cooked and read and cooked and read even more.  I experimented and tasted and probably freaked my peers out a little bit.  And in the end, I felt completely disconnected from cooking.  Almost a year later i'm neck deep in Nopa's style and simplicity, and basking in that has been beautiful.  And at times, very difficult.

You see, when you're coming up as a cook, and the process of learning the ins and outs of the kitchen are behind you, you start to think about your future.  What's your style?  What do you like to cook?  When you plate something you created, does a person look at it and see you?  What is it that you want out of all of this? 

For me, trying to stay at the forefront of all the new cookery techniques was one of my favorite hobbies.  Photocopying art culinaire, trying to find cooking videos on youtube, asking many questions at le sanctuaire...I thought it was all a means to an end.  Then after a late night meal at Nopa, when I had a "oh my god this is the fucking best duck i've ever had" moment, it all seemed so silly.  I was worried I had a broken skill set.  After settling in, I realized it wasn't that my skills weren't there--they were.  But the road I had been going down wasn't even running parallel to Nopa's--it was in a different part of the country.  Bringing an idea to the table, or plating up, or trying to resist the idea to puree everything...these were the hard parts. 

A year in, i'm reflecting back on this point last year, and this point the year before that, and so on.  Every year has brought amazing change so far.  Every year I get closer to realizing what I want, and subsequently get more and more confused.  Looking through all the new books I have (picured above) has been inspiring.  And it made me realize that I do miss that style of cooking...in a certain way.  So the question, and goal now is how to apply the flavors and techniques learned at Nopa, while using the new cookery building blocks i've gathered the past few years.  And I think that answer is simple:  practice constantly on my own time, re-focus and try to absorb EVERYTHING at Nopa, every day.  (ill have plenty of time to do that, as i have no plans to leave.  shit, i feel like i just got there.)  And mostly, just cook the food that I enjoy--new techniques or not.

notes:

• bourdain is wrong.  the best cook isn't necessarily Mexican (although they are very good.)  the best cook is simply the best cook.
• the pictures violet blue takes from the mezzanine make me realize just how bald im becoming
• tina fey = my crush
• brandon jew.  super nice guy.
• biting your tongue during service makes expo-ing hard
• you still have time. 
  
• try not to flush your sharpie down the toilet, like i did
• asking if a dish "needs this" is the wrong question.  you should ask if its diminished by adding to it....
• paul keeps fries in his front pocket
• this blog is written by a french laundry and mugaritz stagiere.  and she has a crush on corey lee.  and she knows how to make proper labels.  must read.
• i hate fish with rigor mortis.
• im going to start saying interweb instead of internet.
  

quotes and conversations.

Me:  It's just salt cod.
Amy:  Yeah, why don't you go smear it all over my back table?
-on making messes


Me:  Corey, you remember that show Designing Women?
Corey:  Hell yeah dude.  With that slutty old bitch.
Me:  No dude, not Golden Girls.
Merrell:  With Burke.
Corey:  Yeah dude, Delta Burke.  Bitch is thick as hell.
-on television


Me:  You can also call me Lord Vader.
Corey:  Call me Han Solo.
Merrell:  I'm Princess Leia!
-on what Maritess should call us during service.


Girl:  Hey Claire, this is my friend Miguel.
Alejandro:  Um, I'm Alejandro.
-on language barriers

Me:  Would you bone down with Stevie Knicks in the seventies?
Corey:  Fuck yeah cuz she had a lot of cocaine.
-on fleetwood mac

Me:  OK, you're going on a donkey ride through the grand canyon...
Corey:  I've done that.  Shit was scary as hell.
-on donkey rides

Corey:  Aren't you supposed to eat just one?
Me:  I dont know...are you?
Corey:  I dont know.  I'll tell you what--i'll eat that one, and you can have an Aleve.
Me:  Cool.
-on medication.

"The restaurant is called King of Siam or something like that...and it looks like a Thai restaurant...but it serves Polish food."
-Amy, on her dream restaurant.

"I don't think boning down with Corey would be that bad....more funny than anything."
-Merrell on how sexy Corey is.




from top:  rolo's, duck breast, sturgeon, fire, pancetta window, chef looks like a pro wrestler, corey is sick, to do list, black widow, firecrackers

are you one of us?

bus stop @ divisadero & hayes. 2:25am.

server: you guys had a stage tonight?
cook: yeah.
server: how was he?
cook: he was ok.
server: ok? so not so good?
cook: i dont know. he was just ok.
server: soooooo....not fast enough? talked too much? spit on your shoes? what?
cook: i dont know dude. he just didnt have...it.
server: it?
cook: it.
server: ...
cook: i cant explain it...it's just....it.


So everyone's wondering, do you have it? Are you one of us?

Do you stand enjoy the blast of heat in your face when you open the oven door? Do you run your fingers across a knifes edge because it makes your heart race a little? Do you let out a laugh instead of a yelp when you burn yourself? Do you feel a little sad when your plates hit the pass...like you're saying goodbye to an old friend?

Are you one of us?

A brigade is a force of nature...the collected experiences of a group of people, operating independently but relying so completely on one another. Different personalities, cultures, faiths...giving and taking...eventually becoming a single family. Loving and hating each other...usually in the same ten minute span. Teaching, learning, competing, and congratulating each other. How can one crack into a group so closely knit?

The short answer is no--you are not one of us. You probably dont have it. Strangely, a good cook can sense it in a person the first time they meet them. A cook with it is enigmatic...walking with swagger thats been dipped in humility. They have a bounce in their step...a lightness in their touch. They ask all the right questions, and dont hesitate to jump right in. A cook that doesn't have it might not do anything wrong in particular--they just always seem to be in the way.

I've seen many a stage come through the kitchens ive worked in. Things ive had to say to them:

"I dont really give a fuck if thats the way they do at your old job, this is the way we do it here."
"Did you just wipe your spoon off on my side towel?
"That's great that your last job had carpet in the kitchen. Can you sweep now?"
"Starting wage is eleven dollars an hour. No, I dont think Chef will pay you fifteen."
"Um, when youre done sitting down/talking on the phone can you help out on apps?"

and every cooks favorite:

"Can you just shut up and stand over there by the ice machine?"


You see, its not that we're the best cooks out there--we're just the best in our own kitchen. We used to have a saying at VDV: "I dont care if you're Thomas Keller--you're going to learn to do it our way." Someone new is given all the trust a substitute teacher gets. They have to balance their humility and confidence. They have to adapt not to our technique and style, as much as they have to adapt to us.



notes:

• 8 months at nopa has gone by really, really quickly
• in response to reactions ive gotten from the tavern write up last week: expect the very least when you go out to eat--that way you're never disappointed.
• we sent chicken and broccoli to beck at the independent last week. why do i get the feeling his roadies ate it?
• summer is here in san francisco...and its a beautiful thing
• to everyone who reads this blog--sometimes im shocked that people react so well to it. writing this blog comes together in scrawled notes i collect in my pockets all week...so its surprising that it all comes together in a semi-coherent way. in short, thanks for all your comments.
• bill burge--come say hi next time youre in town
• slow food nation. nah, enoughs been said about it.
  

On the Ethical Treatment of Cooks

Sometimes this happens to you:

-You're on the fish station. The night has been a mess. Last night you stayed out with that cute hostess, drinking rum (which you don't even like) and smoking camel lights. (which you really, really don't like.) This morning you woke up and tried to drink a cup off coffee, but just threw up instead. When you stumble into work, you find out that a dishwasher and the grill guy called out sick--they were at the bar with you the night before. The chef has called in 'b-teamers' to cover. Meat came in late, so you get to butcher two rib-eyes and twenty dollar a pound snapper--both of which you get a poor yield on. Service starts, and you realize you didn't cut enough shallots. Around nine, you 86 snapper--but not before you burned seven portions. Your chef looks at your sweaty face, cracked lips, and stained jacket, and screams at you like he has never screamed before. The kitchen goes silent, and you take your beating.

Or:

-You're on the fish station. You've been killing it all night. Last night you stayed late and scrubbed any carbon off your fish pans, then went home and read McGee's chapter on fish. Waking up in the morning, you had your coffee, flipped through A Passion For Seafood, then headed to work. The 'a-team' is in full effect--a group so tight that obscure hand gestures and mono-syllabic grunts are enough to communicate through the entire night. The group finishes prep early, makes family meal, and begins service. The snapper special has been so popular, and so perfectly cooked and plated, that around nine you only have three portions left. Your chef walks down to your immaculate station, and screams at you like he has never screamed before. The kitchen goes silent, and you take your beating.


Every menu around nowadays has some line about how they use sustainable and humanely raised produce/meats and seafood. So why is the staff being treated so poorly? A cook I worked with once said "Cooking is the last frontier--a place where you can say almost anything." Almost all the chefs that I know came from yelling kitchens. Old school chefs, especially those who embrace the military aspect of brigade cooking see yelling as their duty--a way of keeping their pirate ship from turning to mutiny. They would tell stories about their days--crazed chefs in coffee filter hats throwing copper like it was a frisbee.
When my pastry school instructor at culinary school told me about his mentor, he said that he thought the man had killed someone before. I laughed. He didn't. Despite alleged homicidal tendencies, alot of chefs and cooks alike think that the former abuse helped them become the chefs they are now. For me, the yelling changed me in two ways:

1. In trying to avoid these miserable nights on the line, I wrote lists, and planned, and obsessed about work. My technique improved, and so did my awareness. When I did get yelled at, I listened to every word...sometimes sheepisly asking advice on how to avoid this in the future. I began to understand the need for intensity in the kitchen.
   
2. And I started yelling too.
   

The first few times you run a kitchen, you are never in control. You don't speak loudly enough, and get your tickets messed up, and send food to the wrong tables. It's scary. If you have menu items coming off your station, it's really scary. I dont remember how I started yelling, but I noticed that it was effective. And I could barely control it.

I started to feel like cooks younger than me, with less experience should have to go through what I did...that they had to pay dues. I thought it would make them better. Sometimes it was a good cop/bad cop routine to make a cook get their shit together: I would go in and yell, and Rossi would come in after me and help them put it all back together again.

It wasn't always fair though. Cooks that I respected wouldn't get yelled at--and there were times where some serious shit would go down with one of them, and they would get a pass. It was as if I thought that the stronger cooks deserved a different level of respect. The kitchen would fragment...and there were nights where the cracks would really start to show.

On one particularly hard night, I came to a realization. On my best nights running the kitchen, I never yelled. Everything ran smoothly, and mistakes were few. Cooking was supposed to be fun. My favorite moments had been talking to new cooks about what we were doing...why I thought we were at least. It was my craft. It was meant to be taught to less experienced cooks.

There are some chefs that believe if they let up on their staff, things will unravel--that everyone will begin to get comfortable and feel entitled to a certain type of behavior...and in some ways I agree with them. A cook that hasn't been dressed down in some form or another might have a dangerously enflated ego...or might not be responsive when they are disciplined. The cooks I respect say it's not their style...that trust and friendship are the only ways to build a successful brigade.




notes.
-i got a box from my mom today that contains pictures, letters, and mementos from when I was 11-22. It was like getting a time capsule, and kinda strange to look through.
-so, so chilly today.
-kentucky bourbon is better than irish whiskey. there, i said it.
-iphone 3g. now im one of them.
-zombies cant swim, but they can make zombie dolphins
-to all young cooks: try not to touch your fingers to the racks inside the oven. those things are hot.

"

Staphburgers

Dylan sent me this link to the new Michael Pollan essay in the New Times.  You should go read it.

Star Route Farms

wii and radishes 007
Originally uploaded by linecook

These radishes came in from Star Route Farms in Bolinas. We also got some purselane and arugula...but these radishes were especially beautiful. (and tasty...with butter and sea salt.) More here.