Opening A Restaurant: The Microscope.

It came to my attention today that the post I wrote earlier today was under scrutiny by some people in the media concerned about me, but moreover, the restaurant.

-------> Everyone is fine, thanks for your concern.

This is The Microscope.

These are the words that can be spun or misconstrued or be led to rabbit warrens to be dissected and questioned. This is the price of an eency weency spot of fame, a stain which may or may not come out in the wash.

If I said that life in the restaurant business was all roses you wouldn't believe me. And even if you did, this denial or mass acceptance of the lie would not pay off your culinary school loans you signed on the dotted line for. If all I said was that it was horrible and brutal and I dreaded every waking moment, and also the nightmares, you wouldn't believe me either. Or maybe you would and think about how stupid I was to stay in it. Or weak. Or you'd know I was just trying to keep the place all to myself, the way the people in Bolinas do by taking the signpost down so that no one else will find their paradisaical enclave.

{Have you been to Bolinas? It's lovely indeed.}

Opening A Restaurant is both a see-saw and a rollercoaster.

     *if you don't know who you are, this will confuse you

Cooking professionally is about feeding strangers and lovers and friends and family every day your heart and soul. Even if all you care about is the bottom line, you still have to produce something to put in someone's mouth. Something edible, slightly memorable and slightly worth the price you've attached to it.

I think that I address parts of my industry few other bloggers do. I know the good, the bad, the atrocious, the unconscionable, the ugly, the beautiful, the over-joyous, the magic, the scary, the heart-felt, the painful, the pleasurable, the orgasmic, the satisfying, the confusing, the inspirational and the real fucking deal.

       if you can't stand the heat, get out of the kitchen

Chef-blogging is still rare. We are an industry kept secret by our selves. By others. We are the servants who enter through the back door. Our uniforms render us all same. We do not work or play by the average rules of most other professions.

And we want it kept a secret. All the delights and the hardships.

Because if it's a secret, the industry will not change. Or so we think.

        the only thing you can rely on is change

Opening A Restaurant requires days of patience. Hours, minutes, seconds suffocating thousands of seconds, months, and years filled with sleepless days.

Will the public like our food? Will they "get" the menu? Will the local food reviewer be given great service? Will the servers know the menu well enough to describe and sell it? Will the chef stay? Will the owner feel satisfied? Who will be fired? Will I have great cooks in my kitchen? Will the pastry chef be needed? Will we become a destination restaurant? Will we be busy? Thousands of questions, like black ants seeking dry refuge in a rain storm.

The Microscope is always upon us. We are naked under its glass plates.

There are some days when this feels fine, normal almost. When carrying on feels fine and good and easy and practiced. And there are days when this is all a bit harder.

Here, in this series, I am writing it all down. But there are times when I need to write in a general way. When I need to not name names, when I need to gather up all of my 15 years of restaurant experiences and write about different ones in various ways, all in a paragraph, a sentence, so as to protect and respect all those I work with and have ever worked with.

It would never be my intention to hurt anyone, but I do know that it is still possible.

Because we cook and work with our hearts on our sleeves, egos get bruised, words we do and don't mean are exchanged. Menus are written and red pens are taken to them. Diners leave the same component on the plate over and over and we, as chefs, need to listen to all the signs, not just the ones spoken aloud.

In my experience as a pastry chef I have worked with a number of savoury chefs whose styles did not match my own. Or I have had the experience of my menu and my food being more sophisticated than theirs. Or I have been treated like an equal and have been expected to help run the kitchen as a whole because I have been considered to chef of my domain and thus an equal member of the management team.

As front and back of house have a history of not getting along, chefs and pastry chefs have intriguing histories of competition, camaraderie, co-operation, in-fighting, backstabbing and love-affairs. We are both chefs but we are not considered the same. For example, pastry chefs, historically, get paid less than savoury chefs.

So to meet a savoury chef who believes that dessert, and a pastry chef heading his/her own department and menu, is equally as important as themselves is a rare thing. It is not impossible, but it is rare.

Just like every where else, there's a lot of double-speak that goes on in kitchens.

I work at Sens because I want to be there, doing what I'm doing. In the last 2 plus years I have learned what it is to be a pastry chef without one restaurant's name on my jacket. So I don't have to be at a restaurant to be a pastry chef. But I can affect more change with food and pastry cooks and restaurant management and plated desserts when I am calling one house my home.

I work at Sens because Michael says that dessert should not be a question mark at the end of a good meal, but an exclamation point. I work with him and our amazing management team because I wanted to learn how to open a restaurant from the stand-point of being a well respected manager and team player. I wanted my last 15 years of knowledge about the restaurant business to be utilized, not merely smiled at.

I work at Sens because I love that we are making food delicious, slightly re-inventive and not like all the other Mediterranean restaurant in San Francisco. I love that I have a team and that they are all great women who I can have a profound effect on, especially because I am part of a management team that wants me to succeed, not merely bake cookies quietly in the corner. I do not take it at all lightly that I am a manager and a pastry chef in charge of cooks who are looking to learn from me during my time at Sens. I am honored, humbled and grateful.

If you are still reading eggbeater it means that you know:

I don't mince my truth,
I tell a true story,
I am one of a few voices that talk about cooking professionally

with

all its dynamics exposed.

I take my actions and inactions seriously. I admit failure and fault as easily as success. I share knowledge and advice and answer all inquiries and questions thoroughly and with as much respect as I can.

I ask that, when you come to eggbeater, you come with as much of an open heart and mind as you can muster in the moment. I ask that you be an adult and a grown-up and by that I mean I ask that you understand that life and love are complicated. I ask that you understand that I am not always having the best day and there are thousands of reasons for that, only a few of which have anything at all to do with my job.

I beg of you to see that I love my industry but with that love comes a deep-seated knowledge about all its goings on that I cannot turn a blind eye to. Especially when it concerns me and when it concerns others or the/my industry as a whole.

In turn eggbeater will continue to tell its truth unabashedly. Without pointing fingers and naming names just to hurt people, eggbeater will report From The Inside. Eggbeater is the voice of Shuna Fish Lydon and I am but one person in whites in the United States seeing it how I see it.

Thank you for reading. It means a lot to me that you do.

I hope your worry will not silence me.

*This line is from a photography/performance piece I did in college called Tracks. I wrote this sentence on my painted, naked body.

Comments

[Jennifer Jeffrey]

Shuna, you ARE the real fucking deal.

What ISN'T complicated? Write on; tell your truth. Don't you dare be silent. We're here, with open minds and open hearts. xox

[Cynthia]

I love and respect your courage; that you wear your heart on your sleeve and the name on your jacket; stand tall and hold your head high. Be bold.

[Jim]

This post was inspiring, honest, and "the real deal."

Rock on.

[Dad & Ellen]

Good piece. but really want to say: love the "In Season" photos--this is a great new eggbeater innovation--hope you keep it!!

[stefan uch]

one of the best pieces on professional cooking i ever read and i read a lot, congratulations.
a collegue once said what is all the excitement about , in the end it s just food?!
iwonder if there s truly great cooking without living it....

[Raspil]

i hate that you feel the need to defend yourself to assholes. i hate the fact that people are so absorbed with what comes out of their own bellybuttons that they don't realize the shittiness of their own actions AND that their actions are not a reflection of what you are doing (or whoever they are writing about) but a projection of their own weaknesses and inability onto someone who is strong and kickass. fuck the fucking media, fuck the critics and fuck the haters who deeply, truly wish they could be you. people need to get over themselves and get it together.