CULA-confidential

Never been so tired

While I'm on the topic of Restaurant Week, we began service an hour earlier so I was plating, running, cooking and sweating for five hours of service rather than four. The longer day (with no overtime allowed) made for a week of Hell

I've never been so tired. It was as difficult as work and school and volunteer work combined.

I felt as though my back bone was a downward-pointed sword, trying to obey gravity. My legs ached, even with support socks, and my sholders trembled from reaching for order tickets at the back of my plating area (even though I have really long arms, it's a heavy duty reach).

Dallas Restaurant Week blues

Tell me this isn’t a good idea. Get a couple of good Dallas restaurants to make a special, three-course meal for $30. Then donate $6 to the North Texas Food Bank. The restaurant gets new business (that may turn into repeat business), the food bank gets money and a traditionally dead week in the restaurant industry gets a boost.

Money to the food bank is a good thing but fancy restaurants like Nana take a hosing. People come in thinking they’re going to get a Nana meal for $30. With entrees alone hovering at the $40 mark, there’s no way we can serve our usual portions or plating for $24.

Moreover, the people who come for restaurant night aren’t likely to return to our restaurant when the prices go back to normal.

The week was a nightmare. We did 300-400 covers per night (our usual busy night is 200). The waiters call it plop and drop because with that number of covers, one can’t knock out elaborately plated dishes. As a result, we had to dumb down the menu. The filet was served with mashed potatoes rather than smashed fingerlings. We served halibut with Israeli cous cous tabouli (tomatoes, cucumber, mint, cilantro, parsley, olive oil, lemon and salt). Wait, that was on our regular menu. Peeky toe crab salad, buffalo mozzarella salad (which is actually made from buffalo milk NOT cow milk).

Hopefully next year the hotel will write a check for $12,000 (roughly the amount of our contribution) and let us serve the fancy food we usually serve.

ISO vegan or vegetarian recipes

Working the veg station in a fancy restaurant, I'm often called on to create a vegetarian plate. I'm sick to death of plating a stack of steamed veggies, adding a little cheese (if the recipiant isn't vegan) and calling it a day. I'm thinking about an open faced, eggless pasta ravioli that I can make ahead and cook to order using veg purees. Anything I do has to be classy, fussy, and rather involved. All ideas welcome.

Big time

We had a visit from the food writer for Esquire magazine. His name is John Mariani and he’s one of the most influential critics in the US. The food we made that Sunday evening was some of the best the kitchen has ever made. If he doesn’t like it, at least he tried Nana food at its best. It is possible he won’t find the cuisine pleasing. Although classically trained, Chef has strayed as far from classic French cuisine as is humanly possible. The food is ancient and modern at the same time. We use only olive oil (very ancient) -- almost no butter. Only one sauce is monter au beurre (finished with butter). Chef uses trios of flavors, layering different tastes and textures.

I hope the greater public, people beyond little Dallas, can appreciate the cuisine.

I'm a cook, not a woman

Since moving to the male-dominated hot line of the kitchen, I find I do miss the company of other women. I love my work and really love the restaurant where I cook, but it's not easy. One time the chef told me to stop shaking the saute pan "like I was shaking my dick." "Ha, Ha, Ha," I replied, "I don't have a dick." He got really pissed off that I laughed but I really did think it was funny. A dick! What a hoot. On the front line, no one's feelings are taken into account. The chef will yell at whomever is closest for whatever infraction. That was hard to take. Also, there is no arguing on the line. Chef's word is law. The only answer is "yes chef," or maybe "right away chef." No back talk is allowed. I do work hard to be seen as a cook, not a woman. It's difficult because I'm a hugger. I love to hug people. I guess my overwhelmingly foul mouth makes up for the hugging.

Me at work

This is me at work. It's a lousy picture because I look ridiculous. I have a small head and a not-so-small body.  We have to wear skull cap-style hats and my uniform is huge so the result is a woman who looks remarkably like a pin head. No insult intended to any microcephalics who may happen upon this blog.  I stand over a hot stove, making fabulous food for well-to-do people.

Tomato lore

Did you know that plum tomatoes have three chambers, hothouse have five, and heirloom tomatoes have seven chambers?

The odd number of chambers makes it difficult to chop tomatoes when cut from "pole to pole." Cut them along the equator, or at a point parallel to it, and they are much easier to de seed.

Woe is me, I got my first B

It was bound to happen eventually but I got a B. Actually, two B's. One in Supervision and one in practicum (because I didn't have time to work at the food bank last semester).  I hated the supervision instructor. He wasn't fond of me either. Admitting that he once (many years ago) fired a cocktail waitress because she wouldn't sleep with the hotel owner didn't exactly endear him to me. Later in the semester he made a wizecrack about the feminist movement so I made a smart ass comment  that because of feminists, his DAUGHTERS would never be fired for refusing to sleep with the boss. He winced but got the point. All things considered, I guess I'm lucky that I got a B. At least I got an A in my quantity class, International Cusine. I hated supervision but I do credit the class for getting me out of the dreaded pastry department. We learned that it's easiest to move up (or in my case over) if you train your replacement. So I did and I did.

Peel ginger

Peel fresh ginger with a spoon and you won't waste as much.

Am I at work or school?

I have an interesting problem.  My work self is bleeding over into my school self.  At school, I'm behaving like the driven, frantic, cooking beast that works at the restaurant. I expect the kids at school to display the same excellence as the men and women at work. Big surprize they aren't as good as professional cooks.  I have to work at separating my work self from my school self. I have to remember that all kitchens are not created equal. If not, I'll leave a train of unhappy people (and partners) at El Centro.