eggbeater

Stagiaire Advice.

I get a lot of email from cooks, chefs, soon-to-be cooks, culinary students, parents, spouses of BOH peeps, etc. They are looking for advice from someone in the field that no for-profit culinary school, or glossy magazine will tell them about the whys and the hows that one needs to navigate this mine-field of a not-so-straightforward-road of a career "path."

But my viewpoint, my story, if you will, is only mine. Please write your own comments below to add to this list. Every kitchen, every city, every chef, every cook, every walk-in is a snowflake. Meaning: what my kitchen requires might be loathsome to you. Or what one feels every stagiaire should know, times a thousand, creates the real list.

A female culinary student has written to me for advice on staging. I replied thus:

• bring with you: a notebook that fits in your back pocket, 1 fine & 1 regular sharpie: both black. have these with you for the rest of your career. Claire Fontaine is the very best notebook I have ever used.

• buy a waterbottle/put your name on it. EAT A SOLID MEAL BEFORE EVERY SHIFT you work. do not expect the job to feed you.

• eat foods that give you real energy. if you start to survive on caffeine/sugar/drugs etc. you will not have the real stamina you need to last in this industry for more than a few years.

• if you plan a career in pastry, keep a baby offset spatula in your pocket. there are one million uses for this tool and if it's sleeping in your knife kit, you can't use it on the fly. also a hard bowl scraper in your other back pocket. I can't tell you how many savory cooks have borrowed this from me-- it's amazing for passing difficult solids through fine meshed sieves/tamis etc.

• look and learn. try not to chat or ask a lot of questions. see if your answer is in front of you before asking it.

• be safe. stay out of the way. a stage is always in the way, but try to find a place to be and keep it clean and organized.

• show up early & stay late. this shows commitment.

• SAFETY FIRST. because you are an unpaid worker, the establishment is taking a risk with you being there. if you are injured in their kitchen you will be covered by workers comp, but the money basically covers band-aids. if you cannot lift more than ______# don't do it to be macho. I know people who have had serious injuries because they were too afraid to appear weak in front of their peers.

• the answer to every question is either "Yes, Chef" or "No, Chef" it's always better to start out more polite than you need to be.

• all your tools should be clean and sharp. if you don't need your gigantic tool-kit, don't bring it. bring only the tools your chef tells you you need. but this does not apply to your baby offset spatula. you should never be without this.

• wear a uniform that fits you. you should look neat and clean at all times, and professional. do not wear your school chefs coat.

• be on guard. sometimes the friendliest cooks do not have your best interest in mind. do not shut off your instincts! if someone feels creepy, in ANY way, they probably are creepy. give said person the least amount of energy you can but do not act rude.

• it's possible you will be older than everyone in the kitchen. these days a lot of executive chefs are 30 or under. if the whole kitchen is very young, age-wise, they might try to make you feel out-of-place. stand your ground - you are there to learn, not be their mommy or guidance counselor. anyone can go to college, at any age! a stage is like auditing a class, not marriage. no matter what a cook's age; if he/she is serious, respectful, polite, humble, clean, organized, and has a sense of urgency, he/she belongs in said kitchen and can grow to be part of the team.

• immediately after every day of staging, write down EVERYTHING you saw, did, heard. even if this isn't legible to anyone else but you; even if grammar can't find it's way into your sentences, write it down. at least 30m before you go into that kitchen, read through your notes twice. at the end of every week, create a list of the most important things you saw, heard, smelled, ate, tasted, felt etc.

• KEEP YOUR OPINIONS TO YOURSELF. if you hate the food, or think the chef is disorganized, or think you know better, or see someone not FIFO'ing, or see a busser/server/host drinking the last of the wine glass dregs, or suspect _________ is having an affair with __________, or want to season something more/less, or think BOH should get to eat family meal, or any variation therof, stow said opinions away in your  "what I learned during my stage" notebook. DO NOT SHOW this notebook TO ANYONE but your cat. 

• if someone asks for your opinion, be vague and diplomatic if you feel negatively. the premise of a stage is that you are a person who knows almost nothing. if you know more than nothing, keep it to yourself, unless YOU ARE ABSOLUTELY SURE the person you are dealing with is an ALLY. even someone you are sleeping with might not be your ally. all is fair in love, war, and kitchens.

• hierarchy is a real thing. it matters. a lot. pay VERY CLOSE ATTENTION to who likes who more, who teases who more, who is quiet, who is boistrous etc. it's just like grade-school -- you don't want to be beat up every day at school, but there are factions, and if you are seen as a traitor to the team you're on, it can be hard going. straight up people pleasing gets most people in trouble.

• when you have questions, make sure they're informed. meaning: do your homework. research the chef, the restaurant, the pastry chef, the cuisine, the owners etc. if I think the question asker is lazy I don't give that person a lot of attention. I'm more fond of the curious person than the know-it-all.

• my favorite cooks are the ones who care, are intensely clean & organized, and are problem-solvers. anyone, skilled or not, can point to a problem and announce it. sometimes the only difference between a cook and a chef is how she/he handles the SNAFU incomings.

• keep your eye on YOUR PRIZE. constantly re-define success. if you're learning anything, no matter how minor it appears in the scheme of things, that kitchen is a good place to be. but YOUR PRIZE is yours: it's personal. we all think we can suss a person out, merely by look at them, watching them, and asking a few surface questions. not so. you have no idea why that gal on garde manger, that man expediting, or that woman on saute is doing what she's doing or where she's come from or what she's seen or how long she''ll cook for. keep your focus on you and keep your side of the street clean. accountability is your best friend, not your lover. accountability is looking deep within yourself and coming clean to your chef and your team when you've made a mistake. remember: you only go to sleep with you every night. your integrity is all you've got.

Richie Nakano gathered a bunch of cooks hints about how to and how not to stage too, on Linecook. Check it.

I look forward to hearing your experiences too!

Remember, we keep what we have by giving it away.

 

pastry chef roles, styles, challenges. part 1

1. How many restaurants do you frequent per month? ___
2. What percentage of them have a chef? ___
3. What percentage of those that have chefs also have a pastry chef? ___
4. What percentage of those restaurants with both chef and pastry chef do you feel you are eating a seamless meal? ___

By seamless I mean: if your meal was a sentence would it be grammatically correct? If your meal was a fitted shirt would the neck be tight but the sleeves perfect? If your meal was a portrait would the subject be blurry and the back ground in focus? If your meal was a house would the bedrooms be a dimly lit, the kitchen tiny and the bathroom an outhouse? If your meal was a vacation would the last days be better than the first or would you wish never to return?

Whether you're in the camp calling cooking art or craft, all sides agree chefs use ingredients and cooking styles to tell a story, to share a thought, to hone an idea, to take you home, to create memory, to woo, to change or solidify or blow your mind.

In kitchens where there's more than one chef, and therefore more than one point-of-view, how many directions can a meal take you? How many directions do you want to be pulled?

Do you prefer a meal where the end of the sentence completes the initial thought or don't you mind being brought to your edge only to leave sticky but not satiated?

These are some of the questions chefs and pastry chefs ask of each other, and thus the diner, when they get into bed together. Well, not literally.

My hope is dessert finishes the sentence savory starts.

My best restaurant pastry chef jobs have been collaborative. I don't believe the last course can be made in a vacuum. A lot of savory chefs I've worked with want nothing to do with pastry and are more than happy to keep themselves oblivious. While this might feel nice-- to be allowed unbothered space with which to "do our thang," it rarely makes for growth. For either side.

I don't believe savory chefs should always be the boss of pastry chefs. Radical? Maybe. If we're both chefs--meaning we're both in charge of our teams and at the top of our respective fields, why should savory be the umbrella under which all other managers reside? I know a lot of pastry chefs with more years and experience than the savory chefs they work with.

It is important that pastry chefs have some experience in the savory realm and savory chefs do the same. Neither side wants to listen to the other when neither one has sought knowledge for that which they are attempting to correct/weigh in on/steer. It's easy to taste a soup and say you don't like it but can you pick out its nuances? Can you do the same for a sorbet? Do you know why one day a gnocchi floats and why another day it disintegrates? Do you know what ingredient's incorrect temperature causes a chocolate chip cookie to spread?

When was the last time you ate a meal in the restaurant where you work? Have you eaten any of your dishes, sweet or savory, start to finish? Meaning not just picked at the various components here and there but really sat down with the silverware you tell the waiters to mark the table with, and eaten it the way you hope a diner will?

Do you think the menu makes sense, from beginning to end? Does your food suit the clientele? Does it really?

Sometimes we have to let go of "the food we want to make" to accommodate "the food our clientele wants." Sometimes we have to take off a flourish no one eats, or condense a menu because indecisive diners make for less table turns. Sometimes we have to change our price point because the check average is scarily low, and sometimes we get to count our blessings when the stars align and everyone orders what we didn't think they'd be brave enough to and for that day we can embrace the warm fuzzies.

I don't believe I have a savory chef soul-mate out there. Or I do, but I don't believe there's only one. But I do think it's important to be in a kitchen where a conversation, with more questions than answers, is taking place.

Savory and pastry chefs who ignore or shun or tamp down or fight against or compete maliciously with or work independently of each other are doing a disservice to themselves, their food, their growth as chefs and the menu/dining experience as a whole. Some beginnings are so dissimilar from endings one wonders if the pastry chef and savory chef have ever even met.

It's a wonderful learning experience to cook in a kitchen with a great savory and pastry team. If you work in one of them, take advantage of all the corners of it! No one cook or chef or commis or sous chef should feel they can no longer ask questions or learn more or get a refresher lesson. Even if it's in diplomacy.

how to mentor, manage, inspire, push, listen to, grow, promote, share with, challenge and send off cooks.

Chefs are {in}famous for posessing many traits. Patient & Understanding are not two of them. Not high on the list at any rate. We're famous for more popular antonyms like hot-tempered and unforbearing. We bristle at critique, take everything personally, and have a hard time listening to reason on the job. We don't love change. Especially the change that comes when a cook gives notice.

I have worked for all kinds of chefs. I wanted to work for as many chefs as I could before "becoming one myself." I saw as many management styles as I did kitchens. The chefs who struck me the most were the ones pushed, challenged, listened to, grew, mentored, inspired, learned from and sent off their cooks when their "time had come" in said kitchen.

It takes incredible generosity, grace, maturity, humility, confidence and intuition to be such a chef. A chef has to know when a cook can go no further under their wing, in their kitchen, in one location. Said chef has to have been paying attention to said cook throughout the entirety of their term. From interview to stage to hire.

I have said this before and I will never stop saying it: Do not waste your precious time learning this life-long craft in a kitchen where the chef only looks at you like a warm body. Do not work for one minute more in a kitchen where you are not learning, not being challenged, not growing. There are so many fucking kitchens to make no money in. You might as well struggle to make ends meet under the tutelage of a chef who matters and to whom you matter. 

A chef I used to work with used to say there are 2 kinds of chefs: The Sharing and The Stingy/self-serving ones. The Sharing Chef will always talk about their sous chef, their chef de cuisine, their staff. The Sharing Chef will eat at other restaurants and talk about other chefs besides the ones under their jurisdiction. The Sharing Chef will tell other chefs about great products they've found. The Sharing Chef will share staff. Sharing Chefs sometimes trade cooks before promoting them in their own kitchens. Sharing Chefs do not poach.

The Sharing Chef is not a touchy feely person with only pleases and thank yous and nicey nice things to say all the time and smiling and handing you the kool-aid and giving you sick days and knowing the name of your dog and giving you your birthday off.

The Sharing Chef can kick your ass so hard your spine ends and your thighs begin. The Sharing Chef can make you cry on the line, and keep working. The Sharing Chef can blackball you and call you names in languages you don't understand. The Sharing Chef can scare the shit out of you, down to your core, and help you to understand that she/he knows everyone in the business and you better not fucking burn that bridge. 

The Sharing Chef, afterall, has the same pressures as the narcissistic one. Margins to meet, food costs to keep down, GM's to reckon with, owners to keep happy, diners to feed, dishwashers to fix, cooks to train, walk-ins to clean, invoices to log, uniform companies to argue with, fish to scale, burns to treat, and so on.

The Sharing Chef can help you get the next job as much as The Stingy Chef, but there are distinct differences.

The Stingy Chef barely teaches. The Stingy Chef believes their own hype. The Stingy Chef is often bitter. The Stingy Chef will watch you do something wrong/incorrect/inefficient and never correct you. The Stingy Chef will take credit for your work when it's great and put your name on what's wrong. The Stingy Chef doesn't mind a cook who isn't growing, learning, asking questions. "The Stingy Chef wants you to know s/he is the best and doesn't particularly want to "prove it" to you-- either because s/he is a secret shoemaker or because to "bring you up" is to face the possibilty of you being better than s/he."

Sometimes a Sharing Chef will look like a Stingy Chef because you're so fucking cocky the only way they can put you in your place is to make you 'beg' for knowledge. Chefs who have worked for dozens of years despise a cook who thinks they know it all after five minutes in the business. Some Sharing Chefs are quiet. Very Quiet. Silent even. Sometimes you have to watch them, be in their kitchens, show your dedication, for years, before you realize you are learning from them.

It's possible that The Stingy Chef and The Sharing Chef are the same person. It's possible both kinds of chefs are who you'll be.

But you have a choice. An active, intentional choice. A choice is something you decide, you make. You don't fall into choice by mistake.

See the red flags? They're not waving you in.

Many chefs are at the helms of stoves are just cooks in disguise. All it takes is a white jacket. Chef is a self designated title. A lot of people can cook in a professional kitchen. As many people can "become chefs," if they have the desire.

But it's not the word Chef,

It's what you do with that position
It's what you do with that title
It's what you do with that rush of power
It's what you decide will be your management style
It's how you decide to repay what was given to you
It's how you choose to be remembered by your cooks, your industry
It's your integrity
It's your standards
It's how much patience you have for your own journey in the craft
It's how much you understand what craft means
It's how hard of a look you'll be brave enough to muster the courage for, to see yourself for all you are
It's how much humble pie you can swallow, whole
It's how many tears of joy and struggle you're willing to admit will be on your horizon

that matters.

Can you handle the tedium? Can you do the same thing day after day, kitchen after kitchen, city after city, year after year?

Craft. A verb. A noun. A daunting task. An unforgiving journey. Un unattainable goal. A life spent asking unanswered questions.

*

Some concrete examples:

When I worked at Gramercy Tavern there was a cook on the line who was clearly kicking everyone's ass. I watched, I learned, I admired. It was obvious she was ready to be a sous chef. Tom gave the ok, but said 'You have to do something first. You have to work somewhere else more formidable first, for two years, and then you can come back here a sous. You'll work at Le Bernadin.'

When I worked at Citizen Cake our savoury chef worked all of his cooks through the stations and when they could not learn any more from him he gave them an end date and helped place them in their next jobs.

The first chef I worked for gave me reading assignments {before the internet-- I had to go to the Library} and lent me books to study. 

When Thomas placed me at Bouchon, after working at The French Laundry, in my first Pastry Chef role, I said I wasn't ready. To which he replied, 'You'll never be ready. I'll put you in shoes too big and when you fill them you'll know it's time to move on.'

Sherry Yard told me once, before interviewing dozens of pastry cooks, 'You want to hire people who want your job. They're the one's who will keep you on your toes. They're the one's you'll learn from.'

When I arrived in London for my month long interview/trail at The Bread Factory the owners wanted me to replace the pastry chef they had in place. When I went into his kitchen under other pretenses--of course he knew-- he not only did not let on but made me feel at home in the most humble, gracious, generous, gorgeous way possible.

*

These are the chefs I aspire to be like. Not the chefs who put their name all over my work every time I received press under their roofs. When a cook gives me a proper notice I honor their last weeks, days, hours, with the same respect they've shown me in their resignation.

I want to to teach cooks what I was taught.

These are hard lessons. Chefs don't put their arms around their cooks and teach them the ways... That shit is the stuff of two dimensional fairy tales.

Not every cook is the right fit in your kitchen. Not every cook can handle promotion. A cook can look ready and deteriorate under middle management pressures. Not every cook makes a chef who is a leader and a teacher or can delegate effectively. Some cooks continue to lie to themselves and you no matter how hard you push them, toward the truth.

Craft. It doesn't arrive on your doorstep, wrapped neatly, or bubblewrap protected. It doesn't arrive. Ever.

You have to find a teacher. Teachers. Mentors. You have to move. You have to want. You have to desire. You have to fight. You have to keep knocking on doors even when none of them open. You have to follow-through. You have to suit up, show up and shut up. 

And chefs? We're in charge, yes, but we're fallible. We make mistakes. Watch us. Watch how your chef acts when she/he makes a mistake. Watch to see if your chef grows too. No one wants to work in stagnation. That water fucking stinks.

There's a difference between patience for repetition and boredom/stagnation. Careful of bouncing from one kitchen to the next-- thrill seeking, if you will. Oftentimes if you can handle the boredom that comes with month after month of sameness, a year passes and you take the elevator down a floor, to the next level of intimacy with that chef, that team, that cuisine, that menu, those four seasons and their ensuing dishes.

Patience has its rewards.

I could not Chef, mentor, inspire, push, challenge, promote, share with, listen to, manage or send off cooks well until I had experienced being a cook under the tutelage of chefs who did these things for me and other cooks around me.

I could not do or be any of these things, until I made the choice that this was the kind of chef I wanted to be. Until I made the choice that this was the mark I wanted to make.

I could not be any of these things to my cooks until I understood

we keep what we have by giving it away.

nyc sweet eating/dessert news.

if a city could have a business card, new york's might read:

nyc, not for the meek.
nyc, fuck the economy.
nyc, you think you know me?
nyc, i'm not what you think. i'm so much more.
nyc. yeah you heard that right.
nyc, whatchu looking at?!
nyc::everchanging.
{untitled} NYC.
nyc. full stop.
nyc. call me, i won't call back.
nyc; not the girl nextdoor.
nyc: many places to many more people.

living in new york city, again, is exciting. full of newness, full of preserving the old, full of possibilities, full of contradiction,      bursting with now and again.

i've always said there's more food press in nyc than any city i've cooked in. it is with these little blurbs here & there that I keep my nose out and about, even though i work in a basement most of my waking hours.

i thought i'd share some tidbits in my bakery & sweet eating adventuring...

perhaps the newest, smallest bakery on the scene is Zucker Bakery on east 9th street beetw 1st - A ave. I have no idea, at the ridiculously low prices she's charging, how she'll pay rent... But check out the perfect rugelach and chocolate ball cookies that look like truffles and taste like lamingtons.

i've recently had the pleasure of eating Jenny McCoy's desserts at Craft. they are seasonal, thoughtful, flavorful and deeply satisfying, in a soulful way. you can go just for dessert! don't miss her perfect ice cream, sherberts & sorbet.

i know a person is not supposed to pick a favorite popsicle. they're all great. especially here, now. but i like New Yorkina best. i like the chunks. i like the heat. i like the balance. i like the logo. i have a professional crush on the owner. her paletas book is fantastic too. i keep it by my bed.

i'm still a fan of Bakeri in Williamsburg, Brooklyn. i love taking myself on a date and getting a sandwich. it gives me an excuse to buy far too many pastries than would suit a single diner. but, i will admit to cheating on this neighborhood bakery with an unofficial bakery... The baked goods at Blue Bottle Coffee on Berry street, just a few blocks away. if you're in the neighborhood, eat at La Superior {the best Mexican Scallions in the universe} and then you can get 2 of everything at Blue Bottle. You will die unsatisfied if you don't eat Stout coffee cake and muster up the courage for the chocolate stout ice cream affogato. seriously. died-and-light-sped-to-heaven manna.

speaking of panty-remover food--> get off your computer right now, and leave your job if you work in nyc, and sprint down to Stumptown* at the Ace Hotel for one [or 2 if you're like me-- one for now, one for the now in a few minutes] drop dead gorgeous ridiculously delicious PISTACHIO PASTE CROISSANT. I hear that they're made by Milk Bar, but they won't answer my queries, {I'm too small fry for their kind}, so I can't confirm the heresay. No matter. if it's your lucky day [meaning i don't get there before you], you can thank me. or slap me. depending on how you react to XXX pleasure.

*for full disclosure i am no longer a fan of stumptown coffee. i have been converted to La Colombe. and now i can never go back.

while not in NYC, Masachusettes' Cape Cod got really lucky when it somehow attracted PB Boulangerie to it's shore. best "american" croissant i've had in years. too bad it's a 6 hour drive away...

not like Liz Quijada needs any press from me, but her baked goods at Abraco [the BEST espresso in nyc. yes, i said it. go ahead, don't believe me. more for me.] on east 7th street, close to 1st avenue are sublime, intuitive, quiet, simple, delicious creatures. again, not a 'bakery' per se, but no matter. go there. early. get the orange blossom water & ricotta babka and tell me i'm not wrong.

some foods, while not sweet, in the sugar sense of the word, need mention.

i was recently one of 9 people at a going away dinner for a Momofuku Noodle Bar waiter and boy do they know how to treat their people right! i ate so many things for the first time i need 4 hands. pig's tail delish, to mix metaphors. if you find the time to be on hold with what i hear is their insane phone reservation system, get the FRIED CHICKEN DINNER. whatever Koreans do to chicken skin, my jewish people can only guess. my hat bows in y'all's direct direction. no joke. zow. delicious beyond compare. and we're not talking stupis little wings with no meat at Momofuku Noodle Bar.

ISA. you have to go there to understand. my words will not do justice to chef Ignacio Mattos, owner/builder/architect/visionary Taavo Somer and their perfect union/collaboration/restaurant. my meal was transcendant. moving. joyous. soulful. brooklyn is lucky. just got better.

speaking of ignacio mattos! he introduced me to O Cafe, not just another 3rd wave cafe. if you're vegetarian [or not], if you're looking for non-Italian coffee culture {yes! it does exist!}, if you're looking for baked goods you may have never heard of, if you're looking for cared for, well-made, fresh, seasonal, reasonably priced light lunch or snacks, go here. the west village can be a bit dreadful, food wise, if you don't know about the crevices.

you might already know how much i love Buvette. i go there on almost all of my weekends. it's not food i get tired of. i wish i did, because then i could try some other restaurants on my radar. while not sweet there is a dish there that changed my life. it sounds like nothing lifechanging though. butter & anchovy toast. i can't explain. don't make me ruin the experience with words. you just have to trust me. there are only 2 desserts at Buvette, but really There Is Only One. chocolate mousse. fuck your diet, this is nyc. i could go on about all the other dishes i always get, but i won't. if you must know-- ask me in the comments section where i have more room to gush.

lastly, i've been up to too much at Peels. not only do i run a bakery inside the restaurant, i'm now responsible for making all the dessert options for Freemans' [our sister restaurant] private dining.

so, in turn, with this last menu change, i increased the Peels bakery by about 25%, not to mention adding a few new items & old favorites to the plated dessert menu.

what i'm most excited about:

six tiny tarts for $12. big thimble sized 'pies,' at 1-2 bites each could be, on any given night, any new or quirky flavor we come up with. yes, you could order them for your next partay. just give us 72 hours notice. the most we;ve made is 700 for the StarChefs event at the beginning of the month.

snickerdoodle ice cream sandwich with arroz con leche sherbert.  Greenmarket apple pie sweetened with apple cider reduction. pistachio-almond macaron with assorted familiar and bizarre fillings... well maybe not eye of newt & batswing, but you get the drift.

        MINCE TARTLETTES! yes! British [vegetarian] Mince on New Amsterdam soil! ($3)

Gluten-Free whole orange & almond cakette [all cakettes are $3] with sour cream cheese frosting. snowball look-alike coconut cream filled cakette.

roasted red sensation pear-chestnut-been pollen crisp tart with spelt-toasted flour & oat crisp topping with chestnut-hokey pokey ice cream.

and a whole slew of packaged items~ Lyle's Golden Syrup caramels, dulce de leche blondies, almond - fruit buttons, tiny chocolate & sea salt cookies, caramelized white chocolate blondies, nut & processed sugarfree granola, valrhona milk chocolate texturally explicit candy {think + feuillitene, rice krispies, maldon,
fried kasha, hokey pokey, cocoa nibs, dried sour cherries and anything else we can think of to throw in.

whole lemon marmalade bars atop brown butter shortbread.

if you live anywhere in or close to nyc i hope you'll consider letting us do [some? all?] your holiday baking. on or close to november first, i'm hoping our website will have our holiday offerings linked in. but of
course if you have questions you can always use the old fashioned machine. the landline telephone.

end note[untitled]

having no idea what kind of art you enjoy/relate to/are inspired by, i myself have recently been introduced to, and fallen in deep like with the work of richard serra. if you need to get out of town, but you don't have a car or love train rides that take you up the hudson river, may i suggest DIA Beacon? or if you're in town and walking along the High Line {my favorite place
in nyc}, consider taking the elevator down 23rd street and opening the big doors of Gagosian Galleries and walking through the massive curves known as richard serra's work. you have until
november 26th.

What does being held accountable mean? What does commitment mean?

One of the questions I ask in interviews is, "If your last chef could say what one of your strengths and one of your weaknesses was, what would they say?" I find that this question startles a lot of people, which I find odd.

Having always been my own worst critic, my worst enemy, I have gottent to know my weaknesses well over the years. Call them character defects, call them personality, call them "places from which to grow," call them what you want. We love and despise certain characteristics we posess. We hope to change some of them, some traits we water and grow in our personal garden, hoping they take root and flourish and bear delicious ripe fruit. We hope some of the fruit we bear will seed and spread amongst our friends and lovers.

However it is we think of the things we don't like in ourselves, it is my belief that it takes a certain quantity of maturity to recognize them, recognize ourselves, dreadful and good alike.

The hubris it takes to say one is the best is the very same to say we are the very worst. Narcissism takes all the air in the room so that no one else may breathe. The prisoner is everyone.

*

There's a terrible irony in becoming a Chef. When you're a cook the idea is that you show up every day and do the tasks at hand, no matter what. When you're a cook your hours are mostly laid out for you. You agree on a wage and work your ass off. You listen to your chef and eventually, hopefully, come to revere and respect them, taking their orders without question, without retort, without attitude.

Cooking, being a craft, and both being verbs, means that we cooks judge each other, harshly mostly, by what we see. It doesn't matter if you worked 20 hours a day at your last post-- if you're working at this one 14 hours a day that's all that matters. Your resume is a useless fucking piece of paper when you take out your knives.

Respect from your charges, your peers, your support staff, the FOH management/ownership doesn't come easily. You have to earn it. You have to beg for it. You have to mean it. Every day, every minute. Not just when it suits you. Not just when you're in a good mood. Not just when you're getting laid regularly. 

When you're a cook you begin to learn to navigate. I can't stress this word enough. N A V I G A T E. Them there's some treacherous waters out there. word. Things are not as they appear. People are not as they say they are. I've worked in kitchens where people were mean on purpose or fucked up your mis en place up when you turned your head. Competiton can be fierce. Cooks have to know why the fuck you were hired/promoted/brought in and they'll test you at every turn.

The irony? The irony is that it's exactly the same when you're the Chef. Nothing changes. Except that you're in charge of all those pirates you used to be. Not only do you have to Navigate other Chefs, you have to steer the coup ship through hungry alligators.

The irony is that...

    when you were a cook sweating your balls off every night {yes I am speaking about female cooks here too} wondering why your Chef remained calm and seemingly cool on the other side of the pass, expediting

    and you thought they had it easy-- they just strolled in and

    1. called tickets 2. did the ordering 3. went to the market 4. wrote the schedule 5. talked on the phone to purveyors 6. figured out the labor costs and 7. bla 8. bla 9. bla

    and you wondered what the fuck do they do all day.

...when you become The Chef, it's impossible to explain to the cooks on the line, what the fuck it is you do all day and night to make it look easy. All you can think is this-- if these kids stick around long enough they'll see. The joke's on everyone.

*

A number of people have come to me in recent months because they want to learn how to bake. They are asking for work, they are asking to stage, they are showing interest in working with me. Some of them are established savory cooks, some of them have never seen the inside of a professional kitchen before. A few have gone to culinary school, many have not.

While I can appreciate the bravery it takes to reach out and ask for a chance, I fear most people do not understand the commitment.

Whether you are working for free, or not, the commitment is the same. Here are some helpful pieces of advice I can assure you other chefs, professional chefs, will appreciate you knowing before you set out to seek such a relationship/situation/experience:

Do not, not for one minute, think you are doing that chef a favor. You're not. An extra person is just that. Extra people need MORE energy than day to day workers.
Do not, not for one second, think that because you are "extra" that you can fuck-off on your promise to that chef for the committed time.
Know this: that to get a trail, to be placed on a schedule, to schedule a working interview, to make a commitment to a chef IS TO MAKE A PROMISE.
A hand-shake is a binding contract.
Your name could be smeared if you burn a bridge. Especially if you burn it before you cross it.
The chef is not your friend. Write all emails formally, as you would a real typed letter. Address chef formally and sign your full name. In EVERY exchange. Do not speak to chef in email with ridiculous texting language like LOL.
Show up to said trail/stage days on time. If you're on time you're late, the saying goes.
Sending a thank you note after trailing, even if you despised the kitchen. It's good form.
Chefs: always thank the chefs who referred a trail to you. If you send a trail to a chef friend/colleague and you don't hear how it went, follow up and ask. People, all people, like to feel placed, not parachuted in.
FOLLOW-UP.
DO NOT WAIT FOR the golden egg to get hand delivered to you.
A trail is a stage is a try-out. No one makes any promises, usually, before this day takes place.
If you arrange for a regular stage {ie more than one day} be very clear, from the onset, to yourself and to the chef, what hours you CAN and CAN NOT work. Write it down and hand it over. If, for any reason at all, you can not keep your promise/commitment, tell said chef ASAP.
If you are written onto a schedule whose hours you agreed to ahead of time and you do not arrive at said agreed time/date it is grounds for dismissal and name smearing.
Mean what you say and say what you mean. Chefs are not psychics. Needs unspoken can never get met.
IT IS NOT THE JOB OF THE CHEF TO CHASE A STAGE. IT IS THE JOB OF A STAGE TO CHASE THE CHEFS' TIME.
Chefs despise email. Most of us can't open attachments. CHEFS DO NOT WORK IN OFFICES IN FRONT OF COMPUTERS. If email is the only way you know how to get in touch with someone this is not the field for you.
If you want to work in a professional kitchen but you have little to no experience, read this.
{I have someone in my kitchen in a top position who read the instructions on this blog and she is one of a number of cooks who have worked with me without ANY previous experience/culinary school degree. YES, it can happen. But you must have persistence! Patience! Humility! Willingness! Open mind & heartedness!}
Know what the word ACCOUNTABLE means.
Know that Chefs are human, just like you. Chefs have feelings. They struggle with the people they work with, for. Sometimes they jump through a lot of hoops to say yes to a stage or a trail and when you fuck it off it makes it impossible for the next person who may want the same thing as what you said you did.
Yes, Chefs have constraints too.

If I had a dime for every savory cook who said, "I really want to spend time with you-- I need to round out my cooking knowledge-- I have a big hole where pastry is concerned-- I like your department so much, can I spend a few days with you?-- my savory chef gives me no direction & I'm jealous of your cooks--" and on and on.

The thing is this: When you enter into a contract, and agreement, with a chef, you make a promise. BOTH OF YOU MAKE A PROMISE. TO THE OTHER. yeah? Get it?

The thing is this: working for someone is an exchange. Know what reciprocity means? You Both Need Each Other. I take, you take. I give, you give. ad infinitum.

To make the relationship work, one of you can't be absent. One of you disrespects the other when the promise is not made good on. It's like being stood up. Professionally. It's like double booking.It's fucked-up. Don't do it.

I tell people who want to work for free the same thing as what I tell people I hire. Make a commitment. To yourself, to me, to the establishment, to the department. IT'S ALL ONE IN THE SAME. Get it? Making a commitment, even if it's a silent one to yourself, is a commitment worth keeping. The hardest time you'll have with homesickness could be the 364th day but if you don't give a place a year you haven't given yourself a chance to stick it out.

I may sound old-fashioned when I say all this but manners go a long way these days. People, especially old school chefs with more than a few ounces of professionalism, take notice.

If none of this makes sense or matters to you, my guess is that you've worked for few chefs who've held you accountable for your actions/in-actions.

That's too bad-- the chefs who have forced me to keep my word have taught me the meaning of it.

teaching. baking, manners, accountability, cleanliness, efficiency.

kitchens are never just about cooking. they are communities, cities, families, gangs, partnerships, cities, empires, kingdoms, islands, homes, churches, refuges, prisons, forests. schools of fish could teach us a thing or two.

no one goes to work amongst their brethren just because. we all seek more than money when we sign up to be employed. for those of us who appreciate someone else besides ourselves signing said paycheck, we give and get something from working for others, with others.

I worked my first 80+ hour work week before the age of 16. I come from a family of non-retiring people. I like working. I don't feel like I'm working [very hard] unless my job is physical.

people ask me when did I {know I wanted to} want to be a chef. never. not once was being a chef my goal. I wanted to cook professionally nearabout 1991 and when I began, I had reached my goal.

unbeknownst to me, I had been preparing and was prepared to work in kitchens well before I stepped foot into one. although I didn't know the vernacular ['all day what?'], and owned not a single knife, many bosses and supervisors had trained me to shut up, suit up, and show up no matter what was going on in the rest of my life. being a latch-key kid meant knowing that I had only me to clean up the house & real life messes I made. no one ever grounded me but I spent a lot of nights in public parks. I started washing dishes in grade school and was cleaning the whole apartment by Junior High. my mother worked at home & I learned how to answer the phone politely & take a detailed message.

reliability. accountability. cleanliness. humility. manners. efficiency.

this is what life can teach you. if you choose to let it.

or you can wait until you're in your 20's and have some chef kick the shit out of you, every day, until it's learned into you. engraved. carved. branded.

I don't care if you work in a Michelin rated restaurant or a 20 seat lunch counter, these words will help you in kitchen as in life.

a little of any of these goes for miles in dog years.
reliability. accountability. cleanliness. humility. manners. efficiency.

a chef I worked with once used to say, "You have to be able to go to bed with yourself at night." in other words: where is your fucking integrity?

esteemable acts build self esteem.

nothing else. no bling, no sex, no person, no awards, no TV spots, no stock options, no trust fund, no purebred dog, no wedding in East Hampton, no name in bright lights, no knives named after you, no resume,

nothing else, but your repetition of esteemable acts, will build, nourish and uphold self esteem.

because when you're a cook among cooks, it's a god damned verb. we cook. action. active. constant. repeat.

c r a f t.

we cooks respect the now. we don't care where you've been, who you've fucked, how many hours you worked at your last job, where your scars come from, what the NY Times said about you, what your jacket's been embroidered with, how much French you speak, how many varietals of mushrooms you know, what you think of sea salt, how many farms you've visited, where you started, how long you've been doing it.

cooks watch. cooks listen.

how elegant are you on the line? is every plate the same? at what point will you break and start cutting corners? are you cleaner, faster, more efficient than me?

how about your manners? do you kiss certain people's ass and talk shit behind another's? do you say hello to everyone by name when you walk in the door? do you shake everyone's hand regardless of position? do you wait until someone asks you for help before giving it freely? when your fellows are in the weeds do you jump in to help? do you know how to listen with more than your ears? do you thank the people who have helped you? when you give notice are you graceful?

kitchens are old school. they're not necessarily democracies, even if the government they've grown up in is. the manners chefs in most kitchens expect might be considered 'old fashioned.' I say it's better to err on old fashioned. few people will fault you for saying 'please,' 'thank you,' and 'Yes, Chef.' most chefs don't want to hear what you think or even have time for a discussion when they're correcting or talking to you. if you think you know better, do better. if you think you can do better, what the fuck are you waiting for? if you made a mistake, be grateful your chef noticed, take [immediate!] heed, move on. if you're sure you know better than your chef, you're in the wrong fucking kitchen-- leave and go where the chef knows more than you or become a sous chef so you can feel the pleasure of constantly being wedged between a rock & a harder place.

even if you're front of house. especially if you're front of house.

the chefs are considered the parents of the house, even if they don't pay the mortgage.

these words: reliability. accountability. cleanliness. humility. manners. efficiency. they apply to waiters, bussers, back waiters, captains, baristas, runners, bartenders and everyone in between.

you think that when you become a chef it will be all about cooking. all about baking. all about food. you and the meditation of kitchen. but once you become someone responsible for humans and not just carrots, the game changes forever. carrots don't braise themselves. cakes don't rise because you hope they will. all those burgers don't get to temp at the wave of your expert hand.

people. people are the machine that run the ship. people. and people need encouragement, admonishing, teaching, inspiring, guiding, pushing, critiquing, listening to, growing, forcing, nudging, laughing with, watching, learning, mentoring, following, yelling, training, fighting, wrestling, forging, molding,        and setting free.

and it's not just chefs who are 'in charge of' cooks. cooks need to be in charge of themselves. they need to go to bed with themselves at night. cooks need to rely on one another. cooks need to speak to and with one another. they need to watch and listen and learn who are the good ones amongst them all. stick with the winners is what I say. cooks need to work next to, with, alongside their prep staff. a chef du partie is only as good as her commis. a commis is only as good as his chef du partie.

because what you learn in the kitchen, what you learn on the floor: when that person who has been around your block a few more times than you, takes the time to pass on their experience, pass on a few words of encouragement/critique/acknowledgement/compliment/admonishment, they're doing it for the you of you, not merely the you of the numbers on your paycheck. 

           listen and use these words, these exercises, these lessons, these challenges/growing opportunities to water your integrity, to nourish your self esteem, to honor humility, to pay homage to your craft. use these exercises, these lessons, these challenges/growing opportunities to the betterment of your kitchen, you, your goals, and whomever you choose to pass them onto next.

  for these are not merely kitchen lessons, these are life lessons.

keep them as clean and as sharp as your knives, and they will never steer you wrong.

 

Food52 Hones In On Custard Making, with me, at Peels {Pastrylandia}

A long standing aversion to being inside fast whizzing frames, aka TV & film, has recently been challenged, in the best possible way.

Amanda Hesser & Merrill Stubbs, the incredibly energetic, lively, smart, generous, silly, gorgeous women behind & inside Food52 entered the Peels pastry kitchen [aka Pastrylandia] and made a video of me making Butterscotch Pot de Creme.

But instead of airing one video of it all, they've broken it up into 5 parts!

Part 1 is all about Vanilla Sugar and in Part 2 I address how to achieve silky smooth voluptuous soft silken delicate custard. For Parts 3-5, keep connected to Food52's Video link.

 

professional cook blues.

One busy Saturday night service, many years ago, my station partner and I looked down the line, at one of the meat cooks, and knew something was amiss. There had been an exchange between him and our expediting sous chef that none of us were paying much attention to until our sous raised his voice and squelched that meat cook's words. My partner and I looked down the line and saw that cook just standing there. His knife bag was on his cutting board and he was looking at it.

This might not sound so odd, but in the final minutes before service begins and your ticket machine starts chinkity click clink clinking into it's sputter of endless tickets, time both condenses and elongates like nod sentences on slow motion. You can't stop moving, you can't stop doing,

you are never ready.

You never have time to stand stock still. And your knife bag is no where to be seen. You've been using your tools for hours and they won't find the dark resting place of that knife roll until well past the violet hour.

Service begins. We are at the ready to serve 500+ people 4 star food with 10 cooks on the line not including the expeditor. We have 3 dining rooms, six menus and there's no room for error.

We are about 45 minutes into service when this meat line cook says, "I gotta go."

The air leaves the kitchen and every cook freezes, for a nanosecond. None of us dare to look up. Our sous yells at the line cook. Screams. Rails. All front of house is concrete. Cooks keep cooking. Sous and Line Cook sit under a theater spot light and meat cooks gives in. He starts cooking again. We exhale. Carefully.

8 o'clock hits. The board is full. Captains, back waiters, 3 dishwashers, runners full throttle ahead.

And it's right about then I feel the air in the room shift. Tilt. Electricity ankle high. I am working two ovens, sauteeing and quenelling 25 ice creams my board is full my partner has plates out we're garnishing like mad I'm yelling for runners and plates are getting wiped as they're lifted off the pass

and

I see in my peripheral vision

that that meat cook has turned his back to his grill and is packing up his knives. He has long curly hair and it's obscuring his flattened face. He shows no emotion. He is a quiet artisan, slowly taking care of his tools. The rush of service, the cacaphony of kitchen, the orders barked and directed and a kitchen orchestrated is madness, all around him.

The sous says little. We dare not speak. We watch

in complete disbelief.

The line steps one step closer to stoves to let him pass when he walks out.

He walks out in the middle of service. On Saturday night. In one of New York's best, most popular restaurants.

The ticket machine doesn't notice. The diners don't give a shit. They want their four star food. Now.

It's surreal, and we all know. We all hope

that that is never us.

But what we don't know, what we don't want to believe, what we will fight tooth and nail to forget, to stay in denial with, to shelve, to subjugate, to keep at arms' length, or better yet-- as far away as we can, is that

One day that will be us.

      Sooner than we think.

There was a running joke in that kitchen ever after that night. When we were in the weeds, which was always, but right before service when our nerves were on high alert and we watched the clock banging out its last seconds before the ticket machine would go from sleeping to fourth gear, one of us might say, "I gotta go." laughing in that easy way you can never laugh like again

after it's you.

After it's the you that has got to go. No matter what the fuck is happing in the kitchen. No matter what your leaving does to your fellow cooks and chef and those clueless diners happily perusing the menu.

-----

We have a few pieces of advice concerning 'life outside the kitchen getting in the way of work/cooking" for cooks in this brutal business of professional cooking:

Leave it at the door.
Use your job to avoid your life.
Workaholism is the best forgetting drug.
You can cry, but you gotta keep working.
You can hide in the walk in, but you won't be alone.
There's no part-time in the kitchen.
If you can't come with 1000%, don't come at all.
Preoccupation causes bodily injury. To yourself and others.
Never call in sick unless you're dead.

--------

But what about when you can't leave it at the door?

What about the day I got a long distance call on the internal kitchen phone line at the French Laundry telling me one of my cousins died in a car crash that morning?

What about the day I worked lunch service shaking & hallucinating-- stone cold sober, because of an internal organ failure?

What about the day you bury the most important person in your life?

What about the day you come home to find your partner with someone else?

What about the day you wake up to terrorist attacks? And the days and weeks that follow waiting for word from people you know who were working in the Twin Towers that day? What about the day you get that phone call you didn't want to get, but knew you were going to, telling you that your worst fears were confirmed?

What about the day you hear from your beloved that she has an incurable illness?

What about the day you go home to find your husband gone & divorce papers on the kitchen table?

What about the day you find a lump in your breast?

What about the day you realize your addiction is, finally, something that needs to be addressed. Now. ?

What about the day you learn one of your best friends' has taken her own life?

What about the day you get a call from the school that your child has been hurt?

Then what?

Can you go into the the kitchen that day, that week, those months, and leave it at the door? Cry in the walk- in? Can you go into work and grill or saute or reduce stocks or brunoise meaningless cubes out of vegetables no one is ever going to taste, let alone see your perfect knife skills?

How do you go on?

How do you continue to care about, be inspired by, want to teach, be interested in learning, this exhausting craft, this hungry thirsty insatiable beast of an industry?

Those phone calls, those life altering moments, need to be seen to.

I took time off from cooking to help someone die. I took years off from getting into my chef's coat when I knew I could not give 1000%. I worked in catering when I could not give all of me to a restaurant. I worked in another industry altogether when my grief was so profound I could not sleep or eat or read or speak.

But there are more options than 2.

If you can work through the experience. If you can focus on one hour at a time, one day at a time, one moment at a time, one service at a time, you can accumulate a few hours, a few days, a few months, working through the pain, the anguish.

When you can collect a few of life's breathtaking heartbreaks, and you can get through them, and get to the to the other side, where there is light, you collect hope. Hope doesn't go bad. It collects interest in your bank.

And every time you walk through the coals, you can remember that you once did, you twice did, that before.

Because cooking and baking are verbs, they heal as they work you. Working with your hands, seeing immediate results for your toils, heals. Being in a kitchen with other cooks, many of whom have had serious struggles of their own, humbles us and we can be carried by them, if we allow ourselves to be vulnerable.

Kitchen cooks are pirates. We are survivors even if we're not always the fittest. We romp and we meander. We're train jumpers and responsible citizens alike.

Show me someone in my uniform everyday who does not struggle with the craft, the industry, the grace. That person does not exist. You can use work to avoid life, yes, but what about when work is life? Managing life inside and outside of the kitchen is tricky business.

If there's one thing I know it's this. Cooking and baking and writing about it buoys me. Has set me on course even when I couldn't see land through tears. Has brought me back down to earth when I could see my body floating away from self.

But there are times in a cooks life when saying, "I gotta go." is what needs to be said. Only that cook can know when. And why.

I beg of you this, cooks with the blues, attempt to stick it out. Use the kitchen to heal yourself through the pain. Kitchens steady. Kitchens support. Kitchens weather. Kitchens give perspective, consistency. Kitchens heal.

culinary school changes the playing field. for all cooks.

In High School it became apparent to me I would not score as high as my friends on the SAT. Because I didn't have money. The test didn't cost any money. But the tutoring did. And the more money you {your parents, that is} paid, the higher your score.

You still had to pay for college, but that initial number increased your chances to get into the school of your choice. Or the choicest school.

I do poorly on tests like the SAT. It turned out I got into all the colleges I applied for. But not because I did well on the SAT. Because I was being judged as much on my skills as I was for my grades. No, maybe more. I applied with a portfolio. I applied with a craft, for a craft.

And crafts need to be practiced, for years, in order to gain proficiency.

Natural born talent helps, but even brilliance needs to be polished, honed, trained, exercised.

I think of culinary school the way I think of a vacation at Club Med. Never gonna happen for me. I've never had the money to live, even temporarily, in a walled environment. Must be nice. For those folks. Sounds abominable. Privilege breeds privilege. Wish I could relax like that for a spell. O I would take such advantage of such an opportunity!

It's confusing.

It's confusing that there's school for a craft. A craft learned over a lifetime. Everyone has to start somewhere, I reckon, but why does it cost so much money? What are those culinary students learning that I haven't/can't learn, just by working in kitchens and practicing this craft, every day?

And where, on the continuum of cooking, learning to cook, do those culinary students get propelled to, when they graduate? How many years did they "miss" by going to school?

Did culinary school give them a clear understanding of the demands this industry expects? To show up every day. Never call in sick. Never have a weekend off. Never be able to sit down on a 16 hour shift? Work injured, work hurt, work sick, work without days off. Work every night. Every weekend. Work all the time.

Did culinary school ever tell them that a craft is a verb, not a noun?

Did culinary school ever tell them that "Yes, Chef" is all the answer our superiors should hear when they've made a correction on our work, on our attitude, on our appearance, on our plates, on our work ethic?

"You're not doing these kids a favor by coddling them. You're crippling them."

I know you think I hate culinary schools. Perhaps you think that deep within me I wish I had been able to go-- to have been able to afford to go. You'd be right on all accounts.

I don't hate culinary school or graduates of culinary students as a rule.

I despise the privilege. I despise the cooks waiting for a formal invitation to learn, to grow, to challenge themselves, to do for their fellow cooks and chefs something outside their own eyesight.

I detest the attitude shift. Wave after wave of culinary students graduate every few weeks in America and where are they? Why aren't they applying for restaurants with whole animal programs? Why can't they last more than a few weeks in a bakery? How come they don't know basic information about seasonal produce, or better yet: how not to waste food?!

I think culinary schools are somehow teaching their students that all they have to do to get an education is to pay for it. And that once they start getting paid themselves, education will just arrive on a conveyor belt and they won't have to work for it or stoop down to pick it up or wait patiently or do thousands of hours of repetitive tasks. They think that with that school certificate they will be the foreman before being the apprentice.

I've seen cooks fired for shrugging their shoulders and blaming their commis, their prep staff, even their sous chefs, for their fucked up mis en place. When did personal responsibility become a thing of the past? If it's "always someone else's fault," when will you challenge yourself to become better, cleaner, faster?

In New York City most line cooks walk into a line that is fully prepped for them. They do not butcher their own protein, they do not peel their own fava beans, they do not wash their own stoves, they do not wash their own tools, they show up at their call time and punch out and drink a staff drink and

if they think that the chefs and sous chefs and prep cooks

who do all that prep for them, every day, who know

how to butcher, how to make charcuterie, how to bake bread, how to cure a ham or make marmalade or roll out a really tender pate brisee, how to prep their own fucking station-- from start to finish,

are going are to

invite

them to learn,

they are in for a big surprise. Because no fucking invitation will be written for them.

And the craft will be diluted

by those who think the fast track is a school an education few people can afford.

Kelly Choi, Shuna Lydon, Peels Spicy Ginger Cake & Pastrylandia on TV, NYC

It's not every day someone famous calls you up and asks you if you'll be on TV with them to talk about one of  your favorite recipes.

For this I, and my nervous system, are eternally grateful.

It was great fun, don't get me wrong, once the lights were on and my sharp, beautiful, smart, funny, adept gracious director, Kelly Choi, was telling me what to do and getting me to talk about food and spices and why gingerbread and ginger cake should be spicy, not flat, all was well in the world. We even really baked one together! And really ate it! Not just on TV.

And not just any TV, but on the little televisions now in every New York City yellow cab. On Thanksgiving.

If you watch it yourself you'll also get to have a peek into Pastrylandia! It's my pet name for my not-so-diminuitive pastry/bakery station/production area below sea level on Joey Ramone place and 2nd street, on the Bowery: home of Peels, my new home.

 

 

Pie Off Winter X Games 2010, Bay Area, CA

you might remember when I was a Pielebrity, aka a Pie Contest Judge for this fantastic fellow in 2008... Just in case you can make it to 2010~

friends,

in these final weeks of fine-tuning our recipes for the upcoming gala, it becomes necessary that we review some of the basic event parameters.  in so doing, we provide competitors and spectators alike the appropriate amount of time to compose complaint letters, construct picket signs and so on. 

as many of you know already, pie off adheres to a strict discipline of rules and regulations.  we are nothing as a pie society if not civilized.  and we gladly accept the rigid guidelines that govern us.  for example, we understand that pies are made in a round pie plate, at least nine inches in diameter.  we too recognize that pies, by definition, have a bottom homemade crust.

these are not matters for debate.  as a civilized pie society, we revel in the celebration of a well-crafted, baked good.  what is subject for reflection and clarification this year is the appropriate ingredients for pie filling.  a bedrock principle of pie offs past has been fruit-based dessert pies only.  no exceptions.  ohhhhh, many a baker has fallen prey to these strictures in years past.  wielders of rhubarb, chocolate, and sweet potato alike have all met the swift, uncompromising hand of disqualification.

but friends, it is a new day.  and with the advent of pie off 2010 - winter x games we have reached a watershed moment in the event's evolution.  and so, it is not without some reluctance that i announce, on behalf of the pie off steering committee, and its intercontinental advisory board, that this year, ALL manner of dessert pies may enter the pie off hall of champions.

...as you may imagine, the writing of this email has been as exhausting and boring as i am sure the reading of it has been.  so i retire now to the kitchen, where many variations of crust and filling await my consideration.  in time, more event details shall be revealed -- time, place, entry fee, security measures.  but for now, we must rest.  and plan.

and dream.


dr. rainbow (for the pie off steering committee, p.o.s.c.)

pie off winter x games
december 4, 2010
bay area

~

Dear Pie Off Community,

 Our chairperson Dr. Rainbow has asked us to release this year’s RFJ – Request for Judges.  If you or someone you know would like to judge Pie Off Winter X Games, please take a moment to complete our brief Pie Judge Personality Inventory.  Rate your answers on a scale of 1 (strongly agree) to 5 (strongly disagree).

 A Pie Off Steering Committee representative will be in touch with you regarding your answers. Thank you.

 

THE PIE OFF CORPORATION

Division of Pie Engineering

Personality Inventory

 

1. I have often had a friendly relationship with pie.

2. I like to read pie cookbooks.

3. Sometimes I dream about filling.

4. I believe I was a rolling pin in a past life.

5. My stomach hurts.

6. Cake makes me nervous.

7. I once ate an entire pie by myself.

8. Store-bought crust is delicious.

9. Sometimes strange men follow me.

10. I have never made a pie.

~ THE GATA

opening a restaurant: the essentials

accountability

malleability

problem solving aka solution oriented

communication

ego deflating aka humility

delegating

sharing

support

teamwork

initiative

self care

teaching

empathy

compassion

go gettedness

flow going

quick decision making

~

what else y'all?

what does one need in their toolbox, in their mental mis en place, in order to be strong enough to open a restaurant?