Om Restaurant and Lounge in Cambridge Falls Shy of Expectations

After a stroll down JFK Street in Harvard Square I was struck by just how much things had changed, but never so much as at our dining destination, OM Restaurant and Lounge.

Just through the impressive wooden door on Winthrop Street lies one of Cambridge's hippest and most diverse drinking and dining spots to date. Flowing modern wall art meets Asian traditional in this artfully designed restaurant.

The lounge, dark and funky, sports a fantastic cocktail list tempting the senses with tastes not so commonly found in a glass. My husband and I enjoyed the Lychee Martini, light and sweet. This nicely balanced fruit cocktail threatens to put the dusty old Cosmo in the attic.

The current Chef, Youssef Boujana has crafted an interesting menu, not particularly seasonal, but as fun to look at as eat. An inventive collection of ingredients skillfully combined, to mostly, good result. A pretty little salad of Beets and Goat Cheese arrived perfectly dressed although the goat cheese had been chilled, assumedly to assist its spherical shape, and was too cold to really taste with rest of the salad. Oddly the restaurant has elected not to offer bread. Too bad, it would have been a nice match for our salad and Moules Frite. It seems incongruous to offer such standards, then skip the traditional accompaniments.

The problems with the restaurant lie mostly with the service. Our waitress, pleasant and genuine, failed to bring our wine until we had completed our first course. The winelist I should mention, has no offerings for less than 40 a bottle. After ordering the Rib Eye (Medium Rare), and the Hanger Steak (Medium), two beautiful steaks arrived with perfectly cooked vegetables and lovely rich sides. The Truffled Mac-n-Cheese, though not particularly appropriate for the heat of a Boston Summer, was a meal all in itself. The steaks were also of very high quality and perfectly seasoned. Unfortunately, the Rib Eye was nearly medium well and at $32 not really acceptable. The waitress happily informed the kitchen that a new steak was necessary but left us with our two plates to eat what we could while the steak cooked. Usually in a restaurant commanding this price point, it would be customary to remove both plates and re-serve the entire course after the new steak was finished. Alas, a new, perfectly medium rare steak did arrive 15 minutes later, but by then we had eaten our sides and the other entree and were too full to enjoy it. A melting Chocolate Cake was delicious but neither melting, nor even warm.

While crawling over the stack of beer kegs to get to the restroom, the $200 bill still stinging a little, I wished the lounge scene didn't so threaten to overshadow the work of a serious chef. Strewn with toilet paper and debris, I quickly remembered this was the bathroom of a very hip lounge and the restaurant felt like noise in the back round.

Despite the rookie service, Om is worth a trip. The kool space and funky menu are a breath of fresh air in the old school collection of Harvard Square. Hopefully the service will come up to a more polished level providing the business with a nice long run as a cutting edge food spot.

Chef On A Diet

Here sits Kimberly...still wrapped in an extra 15 or so, post baby poundage. Declan, that's baby #2, is approaching his first birthday in a couple of weeks and its official, I need to get back in shape. Unfortunately there are few things less enticing to a chef than a diet. I do have one thing going for me. I'm not presently cheffing so I am at least not trying to diet on the fly. Ever try to cut calories or stay in your target food group while serving toasted ham sandwiches with hand cut fries or beautiful steaks with fresh garlic mashed potatoes? Not really enjoyable. (Just my humble opinion.) I mean, I love fresh fruit as much as anyone but when your starving and theres a Reuben in front of you, sliced pineapple sounds like a lot of work.

The same goes for feeding children, which happens to be my main occupation these days. Oh and husbands too. I must not forget the hubby! Some days as I eat another plate of Garden Burgers and salad, I can barely resist the urge to stuff an entire toasted cheese sandwich in my mouth after my toddler refuses it. I doubt I need to point out that this sandwich has full fat cheddar and is toasted in really good butter...mmmm excuse me I think I need a moment.

Then theres the hubster who after a workout will inhale a thoughtfully made meal like it was a kiddie size Mac Donalds cheeseburger and follow it up with a couple bowls of cereal for dessert. Grrrr did you even notice if that tasted good? I'm just wondering cause I made it for you and can't eat it myself...

Whatever. Dieting or not, I'm still a chef. Guess I always will be. Although I now cook only for those I love, my peeves are still intact.

Step back! You can't touch my sushi!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!And don't even think about sharing my cocktail. I had to shave calories all day to have that you know!

Is it a chef thing or does everyone have issues about the way people consume their food? I'd love to hear it.

My Boss the Party Girl

My very first chef's position was a complete disaster. I had so little idea how to staff a kitchen for production, and judging the existing staff was of little importance at the time of my hire. I thought I could fix anything in a strange, youthful sort of optimistic way. But was I wrong.

I interviewed with the General Manager first. A twenty something artist wanna be with a liberal arts degree and a father who owned some mediocre food shops, mostly pasta shacks. She was close to my age and seemed OK at first.

This was a re-concepting of an existing restaurant. Papa Pasta had decided to appease his spoiled little angel and give her a upscale property despite the fact she had never even worked in one. Nor had he ever owned one.

Soon after taking over, I was awarded a rag tag team of mostly non-English speaking line cooks from various high volume pasta shops the family already operated. None were trained, but all were quite opposed to taking direction from a 25 year old woman. One or two even felt put out that they had not been selected to lead the new venture as Head Chef and began working against me at every turn. This was problematic enough but they were not fireable. Yes, that's right. When I attempted to replace them, the owner, Papa Pasta, told me they were "family". Hmm.

Here began the beginning of a very hard couple of months which I would never even put on my resume due to its obvious lack of foresight and the fact that I stayed only 3 months. The first eight weeks entailed my calling every contact I ever had in the industry to pull together a real menu, wine list, inventory of kitchen wares, and purveyors. Usually, the chef needs only handle the kitchen. The general manager does the rest, consulting with the chef where appropriate. I actually had to convince the the owners that we needed the cups and saucers to match. They couldn't see the need for this frivolity at first.

You would not believe the rag tag group of thieves these folks were accustomed to doing business prior to this. Despite my begging, the owner refused flatly to replace some of the nearly antique equipment on the hot line. A request he should have considered closely and whose refusal resulted in a fryolater going on fire during Friday night service. I guess every chef needs to learn how to fight a grease fire at some point in their career.


Soon after opening, the 21 year old G.M. discovered that she had acquired the perfect place to drink with her pals. The restaurant had a private dining area which was not yet booked and so it mostly sat dark, closed off by a heavy drape. We would open at 4:30, do some decent cocktail business at the bar, and then due to the absence of any reservation system, wait until 7:00pm when the hostess and manager would bring one table after another into the 120 seat dining room. A flat seating of 100 to 120 guests in 10 minutes with 4 cooks and a dishwasher in the kitchen would be the result night after night. While the insanity of endless slam played out in the kitchen, Miss G.M. would assemble friends, co-workers, employees and sometimes romantic interests in the Private Dining Room for cocktails and general debauchery. Often, while walking through the dining room looking in a panic for a manager to handle an irate customer, I could smell the pungent odor of marijuana wafting into the main area from the PDR. Man! Where do I get a job like that?

One night when it was kinda quiet, my sous chef actually walked in on the GM having sex with "boyfriend of the week" in the banquets. I had enough. I spoke to the owner and tried my best to frame it so I didn't need to say his daughter was smoking dope, drinking and screwing everyone in sight inside his restaurant during business. It was harder to do than I expected. Papa Pasta eventually invited little Miss 21, to join us to iron out the situation. Great. She acted wounded and shocked. Give this girl the Academy Award. I was dumbstruck, and maybe just plain dumb, cause the owner responded that he was very unhappy we were not getting on well because he could never side against his own blood. Even if she was wrong.

I packed my knives and walked outside in my whites totally exhausted. What a ride. I had been fired after opening a restaurant almost single handedly. I can only pray for karmic correction.

5 Reasons to Keep Your Kids Out of the Food Business

While I really loved working in restaurants for many years, there comes a point at which everyone must assess their work environment and make some broad decisions. The buzz and adrenaline which dominate the commercial kitchen are exciting when you are young enough to believe you can maintain that sort of stress level. Eventually, most of us, calm down. At that point we are considering a family or need to get above the average pay scale offered to most chefs. Bring on the revelation...unless you own the business, very few chefs will ever really make good money. Forget about great money. You can do slightly better if you go corporate or institutional but that sounds like about as much fun to a young chef as a party with no cocktails. Worse is that, if you make the jump to chef/proprietor , kiss your life goodbye. You just bought a 24/7 kind of, never ending stress with a very crappy profit margin.

Here are some good arguments to present your kid when they insist they want to go to culinary school.

1. The industry enjoys one of the highest incidences of drug and alcohol abuse you can find.

Long hours, unreasonable stress levels, and constant scheduling problems drive the average restaurant employee to need to have a few after work. Why not? Generally its a perk of the industry and its free.

2. If you complain, you will be earmarked for dismissal or told you are in the wrong business. Now what will you do with your culinary degree?

Drink that cool aid! You need only look online at mainstream job postings to find several food related positions who proudly state front and center that they expect you "to drink the punch". I found one myself this morning. (Yes, it actually said that in the body of the job listing.) It prompted me to write this article.

Translation - get it done any way you must; work overtime, cancel vacation, fire people or threaten to, take shortcuts, work with the flu...whatever.

When you break down the average salary of $70,000 for a chef, its works out to about $23 an hour. That is if you can keep your work week below 60 hours... somehow, I think that's not so much for the commitment. The other missing piece of this puzzle is that you will have to work your way up for at least 5 or more years at an hourly that will never cover repayment of your student loans.

3.You are unlikely to become a celebrity chef.

Most chefs no matter how talented or hard working will never rise to celebrity status. This is unfortunate since most young chefs clearly aspire to this. Thank you food television. Few people will ever actually see the less glamorous parts until they are well indoctrinated.

4. You will have a hell of a time maintaining relationships outside the industry or even inside it. The professional restaurant business has one of the worst track records for divorce. If you are lucky enough to find someone compatible inside the industry, you will still never see them unless you work in the same place. Which brings me to point out how incestuous the industry really is. I already blogged about that.

5. You can't do it when your body starts to go south.

You will butcher in refrigerated rooms, cook on lines that exceed 120 degrees, and stand in excess of 15 hours a day for years on end. Get back to me after your 38th birthday and we'll discuss how much you still love it. Its backbreaking, physical labor. If you are unlucky enough to have arthritis or any other disabling physical condition, I hope you saved enough to retire cause there are few places to go.


My 2 year old asked us to make her cardboard hut into a restaurant a few weeks back. Shortly thereafter, we were playing and she demanded $14 for pizza and fries. When I said that was expensive and asked for something else, she responded indignantly, "go to somebody Else's restaurant if you want that."

Oh God NO! Kinda sounds like a young chef's perspective. I hope it passes.

Vegas Called, They Need a Cocktail

I have this very hip kid sister who lives in Las Vegas. She works as a VIP host for a busy nightclub and regularly has to go cocktailing with her clients. Whenever she is home, she wants to go to my local haunt, The West Side Lounge to get one particular cocktail. Its called a Stardust. In the Boston area you can get it at a few spots with kickin bartenders. Apparently, in Vegas, you cannot.

At least not until now, cause I have the recipe.

Heres to you kid!

Stardust Cocktail

3 oz White Rum, (please no rot gut)
1 oz Parfait Amour
1/2 Fresh Lemon, juiced

Put the whole thing in a shaker with a lot of ice and shake the crap out of it. Few people understand that chilled cocktails actually require a certain amount of the ice melting into the drink to get the flavors and temperature right, so shake longer than you think you need to.

Strain the mixture into a chilled martini glass and garnish with an orange rind twist.

For the uninitiated, a twist is the oily peel , without the white pith, of any citrus fruit. You twist it over the glass and wipe the edge to impart the natural oil. Really, don't skip it. Its a awesome touch.

Bottoms Up!

Just Put the Coke Straw Down

While surfing the vast array of restaurant blogs, websites and general bitch sessions, I recently happened upon a 15 page rant about someone I had the misfortune of interacting with years ago to absolutely miserable result. Apparently, if you want to let the world know you hate someone's guts in the business...there is a forum. No names here, but it did inspire me to know so many angry others had suffered through this SOB's mood swings and lack of respect.

Ah yes, I remember it well.

I was pretty new to the world of professional kitchens but I was learning really fast and had made a friend of my Chef/boss at my last position. Since he was a huge force on the scene at that time, he agreed to put his stamp of approval on me and call around for cooking trials in the kitchens of my choice. My mentor if you will. I chose one he didn't really recommend. Something about needing to reprimand the that chef constantly for keeping his right hand inside his shorts while he cooked...it seemed everyone had worked for my mentor at some point. For some reason I persisted and the call was made.

I arrived exactly on time with my knife kit and a pristine set of kitchen whites in a back pack. The manager or waitperson, not sure, looks me over, asks if I'm trying out for a position and hands me a waiter's apron. I explain I'm here to work in the kitchen and am met with the most apologetic glance I have ever seen. "You sure?" she asks. So I'm led to the kitchen and deposited in a chair outside the kitchen office where I wait, and wait, and wait. Finally I get to met the esteemed chef I have so meticulously selected.

Chef "So,(insert famous chef name here) says your gonna be a superstar. Wants me to give you a try. Hope you brought it if you want to work here?"

Walks to a metal table and throws a box of fish on it.

"Butcher these. (Spouts off some weights and vague directions) and don't fuck it up."

At this point the chef leaves for the night. FYI it's Friday afternoon.

I now have the inexplicable pleasure of working with his second in command. A tyrant trained by an egomaniac. This guy has some combination of complexes, none of them good. He informs me that I will be working lead saute station since I am rumored to be all that. At this point, its pretty clear they do not want me to work here but I decide to try my best and just get through the night. Take the high road kind of thing.

As one might expect, midway through the Friday slam, I start to get confused. Not really shocking when you consider that a carnival attendant gets more training to sell cotton candy. The Sous chef throws me off the line and inquires "where I learned to destroy food like that?" This from a guy who had just put a steak into the microwave when the orders were bogging down! Next comes a barrage of insults like "that's why there are no women in this kitchen" or my personal fave, "next time I say jump, you suck my d**k."

The icing on the cake was that I was naive enough to stay to help clean up after this nonsense. The entire crew, except me, filed off the line and got a beer but not before the sous chef brought me a bucket and scrub sponge. What an idiot, I was so young still... I actually did it.

Some time later rumors began to circulate about this property being in financial trouble due to the Chef's habit. I guess employees were jumping like rats from a ship on fire.

And guess who called to see if I still wanted a job?

Really Authentic Tempura Batter

I admit it, I'm on a diet. As any one who has needed to drop a few knows, much of your favorite stuff is not on the menu. So I'm sitting here craving tempura anything and thought you might like to give it a whirl. Let me know how it went so I can live vicariously.

It works exactly the same for shellfish, veggies, or chicken but you need to be sure the pieces are thin enough to cook through relatively quickly or the batter will burn before the food is cooked through. My favorite is with a mix of shrimp and veggies (cooked separately for timing).

The recipe is really easy, but you need to make the batter when you are ready to fry, it won't hold.

Tempura Batter
1.5C Rice Flour
1.5C Corn Starch
1.5C Chilled Soda Water
1 whole egg, beaten
Pure Peanut Oil for frying

Preheat your peanut oil to 375 degrees.

Precut your veggies and peel and devein your shrimp. I like, shitake caps, sweet potato, red peppers and green beans. I also suggest buying white shrimp if you have a choice. They are firmer and have a better result.

Into a medium size bowl, place the starch and rice flour. Mix with a fork.

With a fork, or chopsticks beat the egg until its uniform. Mix the egg into the soda and quickly whisk the liquids into the flour starch mixture. It will seem to clump, just keep it moving until all the liquid is in.

One piece at a time dip the food pieces into the batter and place them directly into hot oil. You will need to dangle the food in the oil until the bottom just sets and then drop it in. Start with the items which take the longest like the fish or protein. Flip the frying items with a fork to ensure even color. The batter will appear light and uniform when ready.

Remove the pieces to a plate or rack with paper toweling and salt immediately after removing from the oil.

Serve with traditional soy dipping sauce...

Dip Sauce
1/4C soy
2T sugar
2T rice vinegar
1T minced ginger, garlic, scallion.

Blood and Cuts, Kitchen War Stories - Part 2

I went out to do my work study from culinary school after my first year and was really fortunate to land a job in a really well run and extremely prestigious kitchen. I learned more in one year there than I thought I could possibly absorb. One of the things I learned was how to keep a kitchen running on a busy night when an important station goes down. Another was that taxi cabs don't want bleeding cooks in their cabs in nice neighborhoods. Even if they are well compensated. Here are the details of one very busy night.

We were absolutely slammed. I was working the far end of the line, the sweat box. The station was so tight that only small people could work in it if they hoped to pass behind coworkers or leave to restock. The opposite end of the line was Garde Manger. It was the only station that wasn't fiercely hot. Hot, cold dishes don't sell well. To insulate this station from the heat it was separated by the rest of us except for a little window in which we could communicate if we had components to coordinate. In the middle of the worst slam, the garde manger cook puts up his hand in the little window and makes it look like he has put his French knife through it. After a little snicker, the line basically told him to stop f-in around. We were way too busy. Back to the ranges.

The problem was that he wasn't kidding.

A few minutes passed and we hear the poor guy start to whimper for the Chef de Cuisine. Apparently, in his rush to get ahead of the orders, he swung a weighted knife at an avocado pit which split like an eggshell. Unfortunately the pit was still in his hand at that point. The hilt of the knife was sunk all the way down to his palm. The Executive Chef starts running for him and puts him up against a wall. First to elevate his arm, and second to stop him from bleeding all over his mise en place. Come to think of it, I'm not sure which was the first priority. Then a bad thing happened. The sous chef pulled out the knife and blood started pumping like an episode of ER. OK, freak out time. Now the guy is turning white. He's nauseous and panic is setting in.

ORDERING...2 ribs, 1 hen , and a side of....."holy hell who cares?" ...but they were serious. There was a dining room full of guests who waited for reservations. This encapsulated the essence of hard core professional kitchens.

So we cooked. The sous chef took the cold station over and the chef somehow figured out how to get a blood soaked cook to the ER without being noticed. I have to this day no earthly idea how that was accomplished as there is no rear exit out of the property. This pair, one half passed out from blood loss, made it through the main bar without clearing it. Impressive. I did hear that the Chef had to tip the taxi owner huge and beg a little to get him to take the poor guy. Apparently the thought of getting someone to the doctor before they bled out was not nearly payment enough.

In the end the cook was fine. He was out of commission for about 8 weeks though. Apparently he cut an artery and when the knife was drawn out the artery shrank back into his arm so they had to open him to the elbow to repair the wound.

Like I said, If your gonna go to the ER from a commercial kitchen, better make it a doozie!

Cloned Meat and Dairy/FDA Really Needs To Rethink This One

OK, I had begun this blog as a way to retell my crazy life experiences in the food business, I never intended to touch on anything political but the FDA has my rapt attention and it should have yours.

If you follow the news, you saw today that the Food and Drug Administration has approved the use of cloned meat and its by-product, dairy, for human consumption. Its contention that the vitamin and mineral content are not different from its naturally occurring counterpart, are sophomoric and unmoving to me. Will someone in the medical community please remind me how long we have been able to produce cloned bio-specimens which have all their parts or a normal life cycle? I don't think it has been that long. I certainly don't think it has been long enough to be putting our children at risk. This new food supply could be in your market next week if no one makes a move to insist they at least discern it from the real deal. The FDA now knows its there. What are they going to do to insist the public has a choice?

I am not a scientist. I am a chef who has handled food all her grown life and spent far more time on food chain and farming issues than the average geneticists will ever care to. I know the difference between fresh, well handled food and the crap they pipe through the chains is definitely making a difference in the population. Ask any low income female who grew up on a steady diet of "Mac You Know Whos" if they think the rest of the population started their menses at 8 or 9. Go ahead, tell me it isn't the safe hormones pumped into the beef.

This country has more money than they know what to do with. It may not be distributed well, but there is certainly enough of it to avoid the necessity of eating food without knowing the real consequences. God help us if we intend to ship this stuff abroad. Imagine the media spin on that one in 10 years..................................

Pay attention please.

Kimberly

How To Clear A Room

In the late 80's there was enough disposable income around to float more fine dining than usual. Between corporate accounts and a plain old economic upswing, the two martini lunch and the two bottle dinner seemed invincible. A few great chefs emerged from this time period. A few really ordinary ones also rose to fame and recognition. Go figure, some are just really good at kissing media back side.

One figure who made a huge splash was in fact a really great chef. Many said a genius. The fatal flaw, and there almost always is one, was that he was the most disorganized worker I have ever seen. He was pretty scattered. One sous chef would actually keep her tongs, knife and personal equipment in a carpenters hammer holder to keep him from collecting every tool on the line during the slams. Its difficult to work an oven station without so much as a rag. As long as he didn't hold down an actual station, things were ok. Frantic, but we always got through it.

At the pinnacle of this guys career he was the Chef-Proprietor of a very exclusive, fine dining location which was reserved to the max 6 nights a week. One night, when the place was overbooked, Chef was working a station and expediting for some reason. As the ticket machine continued to spit out a crazy pile of paper orders, unsuspecting diners drank their cocktails and started their salads. Then the frazzled chef went where no chef wants to go...into the weeds. Several orders already on the board for a while, ended up being oversold. Which means angry wait staff had to go out with their tales between their legs and ask what else the diners would like after they had already been waiting for that item longer than appropriate. As the wait got longer and longer for food, the staff grew more and more uncomfortable. Once you get to that point, the customers can smell blood in the water. Diners begin questioning the wait and demanding service for their very high, although uncollected, tabs. The kitchen came to a dead stop. The chef slipped a cog.

One person had her head screwed squarely on. Kinda. The chef's wife realising that the restaurant's reputation would suffer miserably from this paralysis in the kitchen, did what any loving spouse would do for their counterpart. She pulled the fire alarm and cleared the building. Nothing stunts the animosity of an angry mob like fear of burning up in a fire.

I suppose if you are already looking at taking a loss on most of the checks in the dining room...you might as well save face. How much does the fire department charge for false alarms anyhow?

The World's Best Vanilla Cheesecake

A co-worker introduced me to this recipe. Despite the fact that weight watchers should have it on their 10 most dangerous desserts list, it really is the most delicious cheesecake I have ever had. I usually make the shortbread for the crust a day ahead but you can buy Lorna Doon Cookies if that is too much work for you.

Scottish Shortbread
1/2C unsalted butter
1/2C sugar
2C all purpose flour
1/2ts vanilla

Preheat an oven to 300 degrees

Cream butter and sugar until very pale and light.

Add in flour just to incorporate. Don't over mix.

Press into an ungreased 7x11 glass baking dish.

Precut the dough into 1inch squares and prick the top with a fork.

Bake 40 minutes or until golden.

Recut, return to oven after shutting it off, and allow to cool to room temp.

Cheesecake crumbs
1/2C shortbread cookies crushed or put in a processor
pinch cinnamon
2T melted, unsalted butter

Cheesecake Batter
1# Philly style, Cream Cheese, room temp
1/2# Marscarpone Cheese, room temp
4 egg yolks
3/4C Sugar
1 Whole, fresh vanilla bean, scraped

Preheat oven to 275 degrees

Work together the cream cheese and marscarpone in a large bowl with a rubber spatula, til softened.

Put yolks, sugar and vanilla and whip in a mixer until pale.

Turn out the whipped egg mixture into the large bowl with the cheese and fold until well incorporated.

Brush the bottom of a 9 inch, spring form pan with butter and pat in the shortbread mixture.

Pour the batter into the pan

Cut a circle of parchment and spray with cooking spray. Pat on top of the batter to prevent browning.

Bake in a water bath for 2 to 21/2 hours. The mixture will still have a little jiggle in the center when finished.

Let set overnight in the fridge before turning out.

DIG IN!

Hired by a Maniac

There is no slope more slippery than tempting fate and signing on for a Chefs job in a place with a reputation for being unable to retain a chef. Sometimes, places burn through chefs because the hiring manager doesn't do a good job and the new hires are not qualified. More often, the owner gets involved and if they aren't operationally relevant, (by that I mean they know how to do any single position in the their business), they foul up operations so recklessly that no good hire will stay. You would be surprised how many restaurant owners can't cook, or manage, or do the books. I have often wondered why on earth they would choose a business in which they need to hire every position not because they would like to relax, but because they have no choice. Lots of these types get ripped off and its easy to imagine why. This situation breeds a lack of trust and ultimately a miserable work environment.

Here is a stroll down memory lane at a very popular restaurant where I was number 5 chef in the first year. Even the headhunter who sent me, warned me it might be insane. What can I say? I needed a job and it was a pretty nice room. OHHHHHHHHHHHHHH those rose colored glasses.

My boss' name was... well lets call him James. James, like so many industry folks, had a few issues. Nothing too bothersome. Just massive Obsessive Compulsive Disorder, Depression, Mania, and problems with alcohol. Your average guy. For these problems, the pharmacological mix was all over the place. When OCD was in charge, James might decide to come into the kitchen and help out. Which was code for clean everything in sight. Sometimes in the middle of a Friday night , we would have to stop, pull out all the tables and scrub behind.

One afternoon, he actually tried to help prep when we were short. He put down so much iodine sanitizer on the prep boards, that every starch and vegetable turned black. Totally black. We lost everything he touched that day. I, of course, had to ignore facts of this nature when it came to defending my food cost.

Probably my most memorable day with James was the one I spent in his office for one of his many "menu meetings." These came to be known as beat on Kim meetings. Don't know why. That's just how it was. Anyhow, it quickly morphed into a weird psycho analytical session in which I was expected to bare my soul to prove I didn't hate the boss. He apparently needed to be my friend. I, by this time, would have preferred to slide bare ass down the edge of a razor. After repeatedly hammering me for what he perceived to be my personal issues and informing me that my ego was out of proportion to my actual self, I had finally reached my limit. After firing back and speaking my" truth" as he so aptly liked to call it, he fell apart, started screaming and ran out of the office.

Fast forward about three hours:
James storms down the stair into the kitchen office/dungeon /storage area with the strangest set of dilated pupils I have ever seen. Mind you, its only 2 hours to service so everyone is already moving at maximum velocity and a little stressed. He explodes into some kind of philippic about ego and self and how it's HIS restaurant. I swear, his blood was filling the veins in his neck in such a way that I thought, we were calling an ambulance. His eyes were like two black pie plates. I later learned a lot of klonapin will do that to a person. I digress...

So my Sous Chef, who is very very down to earth, bursts out in hysterical laughter. Which was appropriate but more than I had the balls for. James combusts and flies up the stairs. Only to return a moment later. Apparently, the sous chef was parked behind him and he couldn't leave.

I would have loved to sit in on his next therapy session. Believe it or not, he came back at 7pm to help seat the dining room. He was in an obvious drug induced calm. Everyone acted like nothing happened.

You just can't make this shit up.

Spicy Portuguese Soup Recipe

This is the soup of my childhood. It has been passed from house to house, for as long as I have been alive. Just the smell is enough to send me back years. It's really a meal not a light starter, so get out the big bowls!

Spicy Portuguese Soup

1 bu Fresh kale, washed and cut into 1 inch peices
4 Idaho or Russet style potatoes, peeled and cut into 1 inch chunks
6cl Fresh garlic, minced
2 yellow onions, medium diced
2 fresh carrots, peeled and chopped into small rounds
1# spicy pork chourico ( I like Gaspar's) cut up small or chopped
2Qts chicken stock or broth
4 fresh bay leaves
1T Fresh thyme
3T Pastene, crushed hot peppers
2C cooked pasta (spoon sized shape)
8oz peeled chopped tomatoes, or fresh if you have
salt and pepper to taste -at the very end

This isn't brain surgery, put it all, except the pasta, in a pot, bring it up to a boil once, and reduce to a simmer.

Let this simmer on low about 2 hours adding water if necessary to keep the volume of liquid the same.

Add in the pasta 15 minutes before eating or it will swell and absorb all your broth.

Enjoy!

Blood and Cuts, Kitchen War Stories

All employees of a professional kitchen know that eventually, and sometimes often, you will need stitches or a trip to the ER for a serious burn. After a while, only the most serious of injuries even register. In fact, co-workers will look down their noses at you if you leave service for anything you could possibly tough out the night with. The fact that working in a 500 degree oven hurts like a mother with burns on your hands, or juicing citrus makes you want your mama after a nasty knife cut, is of no consequence. Lifers in the business learn to ignore the discomfort. Its just industry standard. If you think this is insane, don't go into cooking as a profession. I have worked with all of the afore mentioned afflictions. You do in fact, get numb to the discomfort.

Despite the cavalier attitude about gaping knife wounds and blistering steam burns, everyone knows when someone really needs to be brought to a doctor. There is an odd reverence for these select few. Here are some of my most memorable. Bon Appetite!

Would you like Lemon with that?

In my first Sous Chef position, I worked with a kid who smoked more pot than the average person could afford. Despite his inclination towards temporary confusion and bouts of unrivaled stupidity, he always showed up. This won him a permanent spot in the salad station, a.k.a. the "salad bitch".

One night, Kevin cut his index finger pretty bad. It was Sunday crew, just three people, and if he wasn't dying, he wasn't leaving. I taped up his cut, wrapped it in gauze, put a glove on it, and taped that on his wrist. Pretty standard. Unfortunately, he cut himself again and the first cut, which was more severe than the second, began to gush out of the glove. By now, we are really busy. After another round of bandages and gloves in the middle of the rush, a pale white patron comes up to the food window and asks for the chef or manager. Great! Now what? Apparently Kevin's bloody bandage had slipped into her lobster only to be removed from her mouth halfway through dinner. "Ummm, would you like something different.?" There are some mistakes you cannot fix.

Supercharged

While attending my first year at a major American culinary school, I was always puzzled to see that an entire wing was cooking on electric ranges. This is strange because no cook worth their salt would ever dream of cooking on anything but gas. Its hard to control and tends to lack BTUs when you really need it. In their defense, these were all flat tops and so they were head and shoulders above a traditional electric range. I guess it was something to do with the amount of gas the town would allow to run onto the property or something. Little explosions V. big ones? I don't know.

Anyhow, the flat tops were repaired or calibrated by the maintenance crew and apparently after being serviced, did not get grounded properly. An unsuspecting student placed an aluminum pan on the range, and then reached for a cold unit door, closing the circuit. The amperage blew the poor guy across the room and stopped his heart. He was taken to the ER. Certainly no debate here about whether or not he needed a Doc. His heart stopped 3 more times before they got him to the hospital.

I was sure that if he survived, I would be returning to a school newly renamed after him, as dictated by the lawsuit. Instead, the poor bastard came back to classes...badly impaired and finished the curriculum. I guess we all must have signed some sort of disclaimer. Wow. The saddest part was that no busy kitchen was likely to hire him in this state. He was messed up. One eye kinda looked out in each direction and one arm hung loosely from his shoulder. He also limped. I can't think of any way to make a kitchen job harder than to start out with disabilities. Poor Kid. It was a real shame.

Stay Tuned for More Tales of the Bruised and Battered...

To Be Continued.

Sex, Drugs, Rock and Roll ...and French Knives

The world of restaurants is so unlike other industries. Because of the crushing stress and never ending hours, any friend or person you socialize with will most likely be from within the same place of employ. The waitresses are dating the chef, cooks, waiters. The managers are screwing the bartenders. The list goes on and on. Frankly, nobody even flinches when folks move from partner to partner week after week. This is part of the crazy culture. Everyone is super social, stressed out and looking for some company after work. Since "after work" is usually after 1:oo am, there is always alcohol, often drugs and frequently mischief. The pool inevitably gets a little incestuous.

One night, in a super busy high volume restaurant, the dating game played out like this;

The restaurant was fairly new, and it was the nutty time while staff is still not settled so schedules can change in an instant. Several chefs had already come and gone in the first couple months. Which, is not particularly unusual, but its always tumultuous.

Most of us were aware that the General Manager and Pastry Chef were married. Many of us were aware that the G.M. was a bit of a flake. All of us became aware that the G.M. had taken up with the Executive Chef. This is a retelling of the drama it caused as we were opening for service one day.

First you need to understand that departments in a restaurant kitchen are more often than not, all in the same place. The hot line is directly across from the cold line. The pastry department is jammed in a corner and doubles as the prep area at a different time of day. Low profit margins make it a necessity to maximize productivity from any space. Space is tight. You get to know the guy on your right, and left, a little better than you might like.

So, the new Executive Chef, who is sleeping with the General manager (apparently in the building sometimes...wait thats not sleeping! LOL) saunters down to the Pastry Chef's area and informs him that he is screwing his wife. He also implies that she will be leaving him. Comments fly and someone raises a French Knife. During this time waiters are setting tables, cooks are prepping, customers are filing in for tables. You get the idea.

Now you need to understand that it requires a Katrina like act of nature to stop a new restaurant from opening its doors to a line of patrons. Yup, let em in. Pay no mind to the knife fight playing out on the hot line. Not even in this, an open kitchen!

Thankfully, nobody was killed, injured or maimed. After diffusing the situation, everyone went back to work serving thousands of plates to unknowing diners.

Both managers were fired unequivocally, BUT NOT until after service was done. Just another crazy flair up between high strung co-workers in a stress infected atmosphere. I actually doubt they saw their firing coming.

That's the biz...I swear to God.

The Bailey's Recipe Everyone Wants

OK, enough people have emailed looking for this recipe to make it a worth while post. It really is a great house warmer during the cold winter months. Be sure not to use artificial vanilla or a different brand of condensed milk. It really will make a difference.

1 can of carnation sweetened condensed milk
1T pure vanilla extract
1T chocolate syrup
3 whole eggs
1T instant coffee
3T hot water

1 1/2C Jameson's Whiskey

First dissolve the coffee with hot water.

Mix everything except the egg and the whiskey, with the coffee.

Beat in the eggs.

Add Jameson's and chill well.

Be sure to mix before serving as the mixture will settle. Best served over ice.