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...