I'm going to kill everyone in my kitchen...

I work in two very different food service establishments.

I have over twenty years in the industry, but except for the past two months, all of it front of the house. Throughout those twenty years I watched the tribes in back, amazed, sometimes in awe- at the skill, the sweat, the sheer insanity-of pumping out meal after quality meal to an often snotty, unappreciative and pretentously indifferent public.

I know. I served them.

I heard the comments. I took the orders. And the sheer frustrated wrath of  overworked Chefs, line cooks and sauciers, because Mrs. "Don't you know who I think I am," simply had to have the scallops when we were on a scaled down holiday menu, and the scallops, well lady, they were not freaking available.

But I digress.

I began in the kitchens two months ago, as a commis, the one willing to peel and scrape, clean and carry, and to cook, little by little.

In both jobs I have been promoted, by hard work, attitude and sheer determination from day prep-cook to night line-cook, part of the "big dogs"  on the line in an upscale American Grill and the other, filling the void left by a disgruntled executive Chef and friend, and being commissioned as Kitchen Coordinator/acting Chef in an upscale Health Food/Catering kitchen and Cafe.

It is this kitchen I am willing to blow apart and bring in my own crew  to run it professionally.

The crew that I have been placed in charge of, are, in a word, useless.

Perhaps it is me, as I am not a natural leader. But I am a doer.

And the kitchen is filled with sharp German steel, and blunt heavy objects abound.

I am passionate, and far from stable...