a love letter to line cooking
i used to be a line cook, a relative loose term because i was very unserious. it was an ends to a means, mostly supporting this writer thing. i didn’t have technique - like some of my culinary school friends - and it took a lot for me to get consistent.
what i lacked in technique and ease in consistency, i made up for in incisive decision making, understanding of food (flavor profile and science), and an undying will to learn. i understood that iteration will always be my best friend and that dealing with frustrated, easily angry man chefs is my least favorite thing on this planet.
after i got laid off by every restaurant i’ve worked at, i’ve made the unmoving decision to never return to a restaurant but at least i learned something about the world and myself.
lessons as follows:
make your fuck-up serviceable. no matter what. even if the corner of the bread wasn’t cut perfect in one, make damn sure it looks better on the second cut. think fast on solution. hangry customers are at stake.
when someone throws chopsticks past your head while you’re in the shits, as long as you’re hustling, it’s not your fault. they’ll try to demoralize you as a way to instill fear to make sure you don’t fuck up but really just keep it moving. you aren’t responsible for their lack of emotional regulation.
if you aren’t set up for success (self-started or training), then you fail. just get better.
hang out with your co-workers outside of work. they are some of the smartest, funniest, liveliest people. ain’t nothing tighter than a trauma bond formed in a restaurant kitchen.
burn cream, neosporin, bandaids, and vitamin e won’t save you from that gnarly scar from scorching your skin on an espresso machine.
cooking is as tough a job as anything else. i will never agree that being a lawyer or nurse or doctor or banker is “better” or “harder” or “more challenging.” the goal is the same - we serve the people. i’ve had a friend make me feel like being a writer/creative and working as a cook or nanny is “less than” work. disrespectfully, they’re wrong.
anyway, i will never discourage any younger person to try being a line cook out but it’s not an easy job to get and then to keep. i was lucky that someone trusted me to learn how to get good enough to keep the line moving. i won’t take that for granted. like, ever.