Re: [CH] (LONG - some CH content) Rael's Night in Hell (actually, there have ...
ChefChile (ChefChile@aol.com)
Thu, 15 Jan 1998 19:14:42 EST
In a message dated 98-01-15 02:52:06 EST, rael64@earthlink.net writes:
Major snippage on my part.
<< Weeell, here's how the weekend went, more or less...
Chef was gone Fri-Tues...have a
neurotic/paranoid/sold-his-soul-to-the-service-of-the-rich manager
(meaning, They Get Anything, Period)...and the week had been slow; damn
slow. 20-ish covers every night. By 4pm Fri, had reservations for abt.
60. No problemo.
one lass, bless her soul, added Tabasco before I could stop her and offer my
"special mix" of dried chiles...and ask her to marry me; she
declined...sniff..).
So, the night began. Nota lota hot stuff, but it would do. Then They
Came. All at once. We have idiots who make the reservations...like, all
of them at the same time, all between 7-8pm pretty much. Mad rush. They
aren't ordering the "usuals", they're going for the double-cut lamb chops,
the stuffed veal chop, the stuff we sell one/week...and I have 4 of and
can't cut more on the fly (we run a 2 man line...seat over 200...I know, I
know...but I ain't the boss...). Chaos ensues.
It's cool, it's groovy, I'm maintaining, I'm like, really sweaty...and then
the request comes in for the Chicken Surprise Lady. She's an old lady. Wants
a "new" chicken dish every Fri. night. I forgot about her. I made some
"quick" garlic chicken. Goes nice w/the coconut rice, I thought. Plate it,
out it goes. Slip-sliding, flingin' pans, Al,
my grill/broiler/setup man is doing DAMN well and I haven't whipped about
and seared him with a pan yet. We're wadin' through the weeds and there
could just be light ahead, some dry land, a wee bit o' time for me to
scratch my arse and suck down some cold coffee.
But no...Mr. Manager informs/interrupts me saying Chickie Surprise Lady
ain't thrilled with her chickie. Bland, sez he sez she. He wants to
discuss this with me, like, now. Converse with me...with 15 tickets on the
rail, pans on the stove, and veggies in the steamer. "Could you make a
sauce for it?....hmm?"
Rael did flip out. Ranted, raved, said the old bi*ch could give me some
guidelines as to her preferences...the management could learn to say
NO...people could leave me
alone to cook...
outta the kitchen, Mr. Manager sorta cocked his head, the turned and zoomed
off/out, expediter had his eyes closed (first night to ever expedite...he's
the F&B man...poor guy..),
Needless to say, the night went downhill from there. 86'd (def: ain't no
more of XXX; ran out of it..) 2/3ds of the menus. Gone, gone, gone. The
food, my rhythm.
Just wasn't a good night at all. Bummed out for Sat. since I had to cut
meat/fish/prep all day and put in another 15-ish hours, and work on stuff
for Sun. brunch. Slept Monday. Had 6 reservations for Tues. night (waste
of time, IMO).
Al asked me why I was beating my head against the convection oven...
>>
This is a fairly normal occurrence in our business, haven't you gotten used to
it yet?
I know how you feel Rael. I've been in your shoes (clogs) before, been deep
in the weeds too and it ain't a pleasant feeling when the weeds is beginning
to blot out the light and there is no end in sight.
Keep beating your head against the convection oven cuz killing the manager is
dislegal and generally considered not a nice thing to do by osiffers of the
law (Poh-lice), and the convection oven is fairly sturdy and won't be damaged
by your head(unless you hit it real hard...no harder than that).
Good luck and have a good few days off.
And for those of you not lucky enough to work in a restaurant, remember that
occassionally the kitchen gets busy and your food may take a little longer,
and that its all because of the Manager and the Chickie Suprise Lady doing
really stupid stuff that justs ticks us off. Not to mention the fact that they
usually don't let us listen to music while we work on the line. nuff said.
Yours Truly in Supreme Heat
ChefChile@aol.com aka "John"
TCS Mystic Fire Priest
Monk of the SOB
Executive Chef Ring O' Fire C=:-)
Humble Servant to the Great Hab