Perfect Day

Today was a great day.

I got to wake up to a man I care about deeply. I went to lunch with an amazing woman I'm proud to call a friend, and see an old coworker who is doing so well for himself. My lady friend and I got to indulge our inner children and watch a musical that meant the world to us. I treated myself to a fantastic dinner that was helmed by another former coworker who has done wonders for himself and his new family. And I got to cap my evening off with a dear old friend, his wife, and new friends. I'm walking home now, full and full of love and a tad tipsy, and all I can think about is just how lucky I am. Lucky to live in such a fashion that has introduced me to all of these wonderful people, and to work in such an industry where I can walk into two totally different establishments and feel like I've stepped into my own Cheers. The restaurant industry is hard. So very, very hard. But days like today make it beyond worth it, and I can't wait to create this kind of a day for someone else. The kind of day where you can walk around with ramen broth all over your shirt and not give any fucks. Where you can eat until you hurt, not because you're hungry, but because you know someone busted their ass on a dish and you know you'd regret missing it.
Restaurants are hard, but they are so full of love and passion. I'm so happy to find myself here!!!!

Guest Services

I hate the word, "customer".

This hasn't always been a thing, I used to sling the word around at work almost as often as I dropped "fuck" and "shit" in the kitchen (Restaurants are wonderfully lenient,  vocabulary-wise). For the longest time, people who came to where I worked were just faceless annoyances that helped keep me employed.

And then I started reading about fine dining restaurants in magazines. I visited a couple, to see what the big deal was. I thought of myself as a customer. But setting foot into those establishments, heinously underdressed in some instances? I was shocked. Not by the portion to price ratio, I expected that, but by how... welcomed I felt. I fully expected to be greeted with disdain, pretentious attitudes, annoyance. It's what I would have done back then, had I been in my server's shoes. I was always dining solo, my tip certainly wasn't going to make any significant difference in their earnings. I never got that blowback. Every time, I was greeted with grace, friendliness, and dignity. They took what could have been an awkward, stiff experience, and made me feel like I had been a regular for years. The sensation stuck with me. I wondered, how did they accomplish that and I couldn't? How were our restaurants so different?

I had to know. I had knowledge, and I was sick of working shitty sports bars. I needed to know I could do better. I wound up working at a Spanish wine bar with a service manager named Sean.

Sean is a larger than life personality, with a laugh to match and more blue checked shirts than is really reasonable. And he is the modern-day Dionysus, always ensuring anyone who encountered him had a smile. He had one steadfast rule, that anyone who crossed the restaurant threshold was a guest, NOT a customer. He felt that thinking of a person as a customer was too impersonal, and we were here to curate an experience for people. We were told to treat every table as if they were, in fact, guests in our home.

It brings a whole new aspect to people-watching thinking that way. And it turns what could be a very rote experience and makes it far more enjoyable. Guests become more accessible, more approachable from the server's perspective. And they pick up on that sentiment, and respond in kind. It creates a more jovial atmosphere all around, and it is the entire reason I have yet to get bored with my current job. I no longer work with Sean, but he did me a huge favor helping me adjust my mindset.

Study Hard!

Clarity is one of the greatest gifts a person can be given. It's such a fluid notion, that when you can actually get a handle on it, it feels magical. It took me years, but within the past few years I knew I wanted a career in the restaurant industry. It definitely wasn't my life goal as a child, but a passion I grew into. And even more recently, I managed to narrow it down even further. That is big for me- after 25 years of putzing around, I finally have a direction to truly pursue. While I have been saying I want to own a brewpub, I always assumed it would be in a chef/owner role. Something recently occurred to me.

I am a solid cook. I'm not the best chef, nor do I have any desire to be a top chef. The time and sheer energy required behind the line is not something I honestly want to pursue. I love reading my cookbooks, learning about foods and technique, but at the end the day? I am way more interested in creating and running a successful establishment. I won't be Top Chef, but I can damn sure be a Top Restauranteur!

To accomplish that, I'm devoting my next few months earning certifications to improve my job chances in the restaurant field. I'm going for my Cicerone (for beer), WSET (for wine and spirits), and CSW (for wine exclusively). Hopefully I can parlay that into a bar position, and if not, I'll go to school for business management classes. It'll be strange, decreasing my hours working, and spending time studying. I haven't done that since... Hell, I didn't even actually study in high school.

Beyond the pursuit of knowledge, I will admit I am seriously motivated by a hefty dose of spite. It's not healthy, but I'm definitely still harboring a lot of anger over what happened on my trip out here last year. But is it really so bad, when I'm finally finding a healthy way to focus that anger? I just want to be more successful than I originally thought I could be. And if that means hella nerding out for a year or two? I'll do it. I'm pretty certain I can get my level one CSW months sooner than I anticipated originally. I've already got a much better understanding of the Bordeaux and Burgundy regions of France than I thought.

Spite. God it makes me happy.

How to Win My Restaurant Loyalty

It is always a pleasure when I get to walk into restaurants that I've been eyeing for a while, and get exactly the experience I'm looking for. It's even better when a place surpasses my expectations!  Cue the Salt Yard.

I moved about two blocks away from this place back in February. I pass it nearly every other day when I head to CVS, the dry cleaners, or the liquor store. I have frequently told myself I needed to stop in, just never seemed to have the opportunity to do so. Well, yesterday I was having a bit of a lonely day, so I decided to haul my butt away from the Law & Order: SVU reruns that had commanded my day and get on with my night.

Entering the Salt Yard, it looked very similar to many of my favorite rustic-but-modern decor'd restaurants that have become a familiar sight here in the South. The inside of the restaurant was on the calmer side, being that it was a gorgeously warm spring night, most guests opted for patio seating. I slid into a plush leather-cushioned bar seat and perused the menu.

This is where I got really excited. The wine list was accessible, the beers were an excellent grouping of choices designed to transition people to craft beer, and the cocktail list was short and simple- making my normally overwhelming drink decision MUCH easier (Whether the bartender, Brett, believes it or not- I still spent a good 8 minutes deciding! ).

Even more exciting to me was the food menu.  My former boss, Richard, always used to joke that I "ate like a bird", and he's quite right. I prefer tasting around a bunch of different dishes rather than trying to inhale a massive entrée. Salt Yard specializes in small plates! They had 5 different sections of the menu devoted to different varieties of tapas-sized plates, with influences across the culinary spectrum, but they all fit together in a way that made sense. They also had a small entrée segment, but it was clear they wanted people to try a variety of what they were capable of. 

Over the course of my adventure there, I tried their stuffed piquillo peppers, grilled octopus, deviled eggs, and 'shrooms on toast. Nothing disappointed me at all, though the grilled octopus was easily my favorite- it was served with arugula and roasted potatoes, and lightly dressed with a citrusy vinaigrette. Even better, the octopus itself was TENDER. I was hooked immediately.

The personnel also has me hooked. Brett was entertaining and engaging, and then a gentleman who I thought was a manager, Christian, was kind enough to buy me a beer. After a bit of post-visit research, it occurs to me that he may have been the owner. Even their expediter (possibly/probably the chef?) kept checking on me. I love attention, so I had a grand time.

Ultimately, the Salt Yard has easily won my business. They took what was originally a sad night for me and turned it around in the best way. I can't wait to go back, especially as they mentioned that the menu is changing next week!

Http://www.saltyardatlanta.com

Succulence, Spice, and Spirit(s)

What a crazy few weeks it's been! I have been in a pissy mood the past couple of weeks, and thank god Mom taught me, "if you haven't got anything nice to say, don't say anything at all!"; otherwise this blog would have been exceptionally bitter for a minute. Thankfully, I have hit my stride, things are in an upward-mobile direction, and I am ready to kick some ass!

So, what have I been up to? Well, for starters,  club life and I most decidedly did NOT work out. Between differences in opinion between the upper management and I,  and the truly awful people that actually attended the club, it was far better for me to part ways. I now focus more on freelance film production stuff, and I'm going to start waiting tables again at a local bar to guarantee bills get paid.

I did break things off with J. I weighed the pros and cons, and then I re-read, 'He's Just Not That Into You'. And then it hit me that he did not, in fact, like me as much as I do him. It might seem silly to take a book to heart like that, but it is the only relationship book that has ever told the blunt, unshakeable truth. So I trust it a hell of a lot more than anyone or any other book that insists that relationships are based on analyzation of the other person. So I  the end, sure, I still have feelings for him, but I'm not waiting or wasting the fabulousness that is myself on a pipedream. I'm ready to put my energy and emotions into a relationship that is actually reciprocated.

On a happier note, my garden hasn't died yet! I've even added more to it. It's got kale, lavender, and dill now; and I'm attempting to start some carrot, pumpkin, and baby cucumber seeds before the weather gets really cold. Hopefully they turn out- So far everything else has been doing great, and the tomatoes keep producing more buds! I'm feeling optimistic, despite the naysayers in the hardware store garden department.  :)

Lastly,  I have been lucky enough to taste a plethora of new foods I have never tried before! And happily enough, 2 of 3 places are suuuper local, and suuuuper cheap! Jamaican, Croatian, and Ethiopian- I'm so lucky I live in such a diverse city! The corner store by my house has started selling Jamaican meat patties- tasty savory pastries filled with rich, spicy meats. It's the healthiest, home-made Hot Pocket I've ever had. The dude who makes them is super-chill too, I really want to chat with him more about the patties. In a food truck park about a mile away? Croatian food truck, run by 2 brothers who are using recipes taught to them all their lives. And let me tell you,  the whatever they gave me? Oooooh, man. I need to go back there to get a more detailed explanation of whatever I ate. It was succulent,  savory, and the meat just melted apart in my mouth. Just talking about it gets me drooling!  The Ethiopian place is a bit further away, in the outer perimeter area of the city, but the style of food was awesome. It was also spicy, similar to the Jamaican but a bit more rustic,  and more importantly- I got to eat with my hands! I read up on the etiquette afterwards and apparently I probably offended a lot of people by using both hands (in Ethiopia,  you are only supposed to use the right). I'll have to practice for the future.

I'm excited for what's ahead.  For the few steps back I took, I am sure that what's ahead is going to reap rewards!

Wahoo! WaHo!

My wallet may be in danger. As well as my arteries.

This new job of mine is creating some crazy changes in my life. It's a 9-5 job, for starters.  The kicker? Nine at night until five in the morning. Sleeping in until 3pm is no longer a luxury,  but necessary,  and I love it. These hours actually allow me to spend time with my dogs and friends, something I have been sorely lacking in the past 6 months. The downside? Work is within 2 minutes of my favorite place to eat, Proof & Provision; next to an Arby's,  and a half a block from a Waffle House- two other restaurants I will go to town at. If I have any weakness, it is food. So having these options so excruciatingly close? It is going to take everything in me to exercise control. Especially as I have already been to the fast food joints a few times in the past week, and P&P once as well... and am intending on going back there tonight (J is coming tonight, I have a good reason GODDAMMIT DON'T JUDGE ME!!!).
If I haven't mentioned it before, P&P is everything I could ever want from a restaurant- great food, incredible cocktails, warm staff, cozy atmosphere, and a flow of clientele that doesn't get crazy-busy until I get to work anyway. I adore it, love it, and cannot recommend it enough. Getting to go back after months of going without was the best treat I could give myself! Nate Shuman,  one of the South's best bartenders and mixologist extraordinaire was there- he has taken care of me since the first time I ever stepped foot in P&P, and getting to catch up with him was a lot of fun. Everyone needs to find a bar like this for themselves... but if you're in the metro Atlanta area,  I guess I can share mine...

Proof & Provision
Open Tuesdays through Saturdays
Dinner Only
(404) 897-1991
Www.proofandprovision.com

Returning to an earlier point, J is coming tonight!!!!!

Through a stroke of serendipity last week, he and I got to spend a day in New York City together (story for another day), and it had been about a month prior to that that I had seen him before,  so I'm feeling pretty spoiled right now, haha! I get the feeling it's going to be a good visit this time, too. I mean, it's usually a good one, but we were talking on the phone the other night and he made a few comments that gave me the idea that this relationship is progressing in a positive way.  Cannot WAIT to see him!!! <3

WWID? (What Will I Do?)

Days like today I get restless. It's rainy and gross, and the kitchen at the lounge is excruciatingly slow. My mind wanders, and I wind up thinking about everything from Anne Frank to my future. Whatever lies ahead vis-a-vis J and I aside, I am planning on opening a pub of my own. A German-style affair, but not the kitschy Oktoberfest nonsense most people think of. I desperately want to make this idea come to fruition, and I have most of the details planned for. Currently, the only things holding me back are financing the beast, and myself thinking there's still something I need to learn. Like some sort of entrepreneurial secret I haven't unlocked yet. I can't figure out what, though... I know about the myriad of licenses, fees, trademarking, costs, Point-of-sale machines, scheduling, how to cook, and that I don't know nearly enough about payroll so I should probably hire someone else to do that. I learned about inventory and invoices through retail, too. From an intellectual standpoint, I've got this in the bag.

However, I am purposefully holding back from seeking finances to learn... Something. What could I possibly be waiting for? Really, I should work on finding people to back me so I can just... Start. Leap in. Lots of chef-owner memoirs I've read have said that ignorance starting out was their greatest strength. But am I too informed at this point? Maybe my stalling is merely fear manifesting itself in a way I'm not understanding. Hm. I should start networking a bit more, meet some people who could help me get more motivated...


So, Internet, if you know anyone with a few thousand bucks to loan out, lemme know, k? Hahaha!

Mystery Solved

So it looks like I am probably getting sick. WONDERFUL. Still feeling sluggish and achy. Granted, I'll still be going to work- I'll just be plugging as much citrus and water as my body can contain at any given time. It'll pass in a couple of days.

Welcome to the reality of working in kitchens! I absolutely adore what I do for a living, but sadly it doesn't pay enough to justify taking a day off to sleep. Luckily, even with my new second job, I still get one whole day to myself- Wednesday! Woo! Just need to get through half a week, and I'll be golden. Cheers!

My Meals vs Your Meals

The weirdest thing about working in and dating someone in kitchens for me is probably the fact that I rarely, RARELY, cook anymore. Nor does J. In fact, I have never tried J's cooking- I've eaten at his restaurant, but he wasn't in the kitchen that day. His line cooks did an excellent job, though.

I've got stuff I can cook with at home- nothing compared to the culinary playground that a commercial kitchen is, but a decent, serviceable work area and ingredients. The biggest trouble is, after cooking and caring for 8+ hours, followed by clean-up, I am too tired to give a shit. I shop and buy food that I specifically don't have to cook. Another guy I work with told me that, outside of family meal, he subsists on chips and pizza rolls.

"Never trust a skinny cook"- what a load of crap that is. We're whippet-thin by virtue of the fact that, while we eat, it is never enough to support our high-energy lifestyle. And we usually supplement our diets with beer- liquid bread. It worked for monks, so it's gotta be a halfway decent idea, non?

Anytime J and I are together, we always end up going to at least one restaurant, if not 2 or 3 (depends on how many meals we end up sharing). It's been awesome- while we have our favorites, we also manage to try a lot of cool places! The trickiest part of our evenings is usually trying to figure out where to go- it's always, "What do you feel like eating?" "Oh, I'm not picky. Anything is fine. Are you in the mood for anything?" "Nah- where's a good place?" "...hm... Well, there's x-and-such, restaurant x, blah-blah-blah..." And it always takes almost 15 minutes of that on repeat to figure anything out. Why don't we cook together? Because our time together is far too short to be bothered with dishes. Would it be amazing to get a home-cooked meal from him once? God yes, but to be fair, it would make my day to get *any* home cooked meal. Don't underestimate the power that a regular dinner has over a cook- can we cook better than you? Probably. However, none of us are picky, and frankly none of us want to cook post-shift. The way to our hearts is through our stomachs- just so long as our meats aren't burnt leather hockey pucks. Cheers~

Walk the Line

It's the oldest opening question when you're at a bar- "What do you do?" A general inquiry to suss out what you've chosen to do with your life. It also provides insight as to where your mental situation may be, and future prospects. After all, if you're in the dating game, you wouldn't want to saddle yourself with an unemployed bum, right?

I am a line cook. Generally, that means I need to explain a bit more to the random people I meet. The layman doesn't realize that cooking professionally is more complex than just, "make food". There's catering, private cooking, cooking instructors, chefs, etc.

Line cooking is what happens in restaurant kitchens- it's a team effort to put together meals for the guests. There's generally different stations to focus on different plates- it's just about impossible for one person to put together hundreds of plates together by themselves in a night.

I love line cooking. In a good restaurant, it's fast-paced, challenging, and keeps me on my toes. And when I have the opportunity to get a bit more creative, it's ludicrously fun.

At the end of a good night, I am exhausted. I would have been on my feet for at least 8 hours, in constant motion. Lifting, chopping, wiping, reaching into fridges. I'm sweating from the heat and the pressure, and my focus is laser-sharp. It's a tough environment, but it's never boring. It's perfect for my short attention spam, constantly evolving and changing. My hands are marred with burns, scars, and calluses. My nails are short out of necessity, and never polished. My hair is pulled back and tucked under a skull cap, making me look like an adolescent boy if it weren't for the eyeliner I wear.

Women on the line is a rarity- for whatever reason, they aren't as prevalent in professional kitchens. Many that ate, though, feel the need to overcompensate with an excessively macho attitude. I did that myself for the first half of my career. I wish that there weren't any gender distinction in kitchens, that we could just gain respect as just cooks instead of male vs female cooks. However, at the moment it's an unavoidable divide, and I'd rather celebrate the fact that I *am* a girl, and I *am* kicking ass at what I do. It's tough, but worth every ass-kicking night!

I wonder why the stereotype even exists? The "pro cooks=men/home cooks=women" one? Honestly, I would think moms would make the best professional cooks- they're used to being on their feet long hours, multitasking all the time, and to be frank, used to a lot of whining. Thoughts, everyone?

Stockholm Syndrome

I have been in some facet of the hospitality industry since I was 14. Restaurants, mostly, but I did a small 2-year stint in alcohol retail as well. In that time, I've referred to it as a form of Stockholm Syndrome for a majority of it. Much of the time, I also treated it as just a job. So why have I bothered staying?
It's not the pay. Restaurant wages are among the worst I've earned. It's not the hours, either- who willingly gives up weekends and holidays? And it's DEFINITELY not the glamour- don't believe what you see in the media, restaurant work isn't remotely pretty when you're elbows-deep in shrimp shit and shells.
Part of it could be I don't feel qualified to do anything else. I mean, when you spend so much time doing one thing, it doesn't matter what other talents you may have, it's hard to convince yourself that other people would pay you for that. Or, that's been my experience, at least.
Ultimately, I guess it boiled down to passion for me. A passion I didn't realize I had, to be honest. Which is a bit funny to admit, as I am one of the first people to tell my friends to follow theirs.
It turned out I had developed a love of German food without realizing it. When I was in high school, I spent years both volunteering and working in a German restaurant in Brunswick, Maine. Back then, I didn't have any vested interest in food, and actually was a rather annoyingly picky eater. But, when you're a growing adolescent and haven't eaten in hours, sauerkraut gets incredibly tempting-smelling.
That restaurant, Richard's, was one of the first and few places I worked in where they insisted on doing things by a set standard. More importantly, it was a standard maintained on a surprising amount of common sense. It was a method I wound up taking for granted, especially considering some of the places I worked in later years.
Anyway, while I was there, I developed a taste for German food. I proceeded to then work in a few other restaurants that were more concerned with volume and relaxed feel- decidedly not fine dining establishments. I moved to Atlanta, gained an appreciation for eating well, and then got gobsmacked and disillusioned with the dining scene here. I got burnt out. I gave up, and went into alcohol retail. It was fun for a while, but I got restless. Then I worked a special Oktoberfest event.
My company had provided the beer for the event, and I was on hand to help explain what was there to the guests. A catering company had been hired to recreate authentic German food. I was looking forward to seeing what they did, and even offered to consult with the chef at the catering company.

It was the biggest travesty toward German cooking I had ever seen. I was furious. Atlanta barely has passable European cuisine anyway, and to try to pass this off as "authentic"?! I was offended to the core. I had been toying with the idea of starting my own German pub, and this was the final nail in the coffin. I was going to make it happen one way or the other.

I proceeded to call my old boss, Richard, and set up a stage (apprenticeship) back in his kitchen. It had been at least five years since I had worked there, and I wanted to refresh my memory. I went back to Maine for a couple of weeks at the end of January and got to work. It was rejuvenating! I had forgotten how nice it was to work someplace with high standards. I felt at home. And I realized how much I still needed to learn.
I returned to Atlanta, determined to find a good cooking job. No more retail, no more waiting tables, and no more half-assed over-hyped mediocre burger-slinging. It was tough- a lot of places that were hiring were the terrible TGI knockoffs I wanted to avoid. Then, one morning during a 3am bout of insomnia, I found a Craigslist ad for a line cook position at a place I had heard good things about. J had even recommended I apply there months ago, before the Oktoberfest fiasco. I sent in my résumé, and passed out.
Chef called me that afternoon to schedule an interview. I was over the moon! A couple days later, I went in for it. There was another applicant there. I got nervous- he was dressed in his chef whites, while I looked more as though I was going for a hostess position. My nerves continued to get rattled the longer we waited for Chef to arrive. Finally, it was time. And I had the longest, most intense interview of my life. I left feeling completely rattled, but also... Intrigued. I needed to work there, I could tell. They had standards! A good reputation! An more importantly, I could *learn* there. For the first time in my life, I began praying I could get the job.
Three excruciatingly long days later, Chef called me back for a one night stage to see if I'd fit. I went in the very next night... And proceeded to completely fuck up a simple hummus recipe. Then they put me on the line, an figuring I had nothing to lose, I threw myself into learning what I could. The whole while, I was mentally swearing at myself, sure I had blown it.
Closing time rolled around, and that's when Chef gave me some of the best news of my career- I got the job. I skipped home that night. Been damn near skipping ever since, too. I still get the jitters- it's a level of cooking I've never performed at, and some days I feel like I can't keep up. But ultimately, I'm finding myself happy that I'm getting my ass kicked every weekend. I'm getting a perverse thrill from the challenge, and it's doing wonders for my faith in the skills I had picked up in prior arenas. My hands will never be pretty and flawless again- but they will reflect my love for this industry, for the strength it gives me, and the lengths I'll go to for all of my goals- kitchen or otherwise.
So why do I stay in this industry? I guess I'm just that special kind of crazy. Cheers!

Sober St. Patrick's Day- an Introduction

For the first time in years, I am spending St. Patrick's day sober. Not intentionally, but crap happens. Today was supposed to be a gorgeous day, perfect for going outside and enjoying sunshine with my dogs. Instead, I have been granted clouds and brisk breezes, which has led to accidentally literally making myself ill with boredom. Which led to me starting a blog. Clearly a recipe for success! Well, here we are anyway.
They say to write what you know, so I suppose I should decide what that is.

Food.

I know about food. I'm a cook, and a total food nerd. I have shelves of cook books, chef memoirs, even cook comic books ('Get Jiro', anyone?). I get more excited about restaurants and industry news than I do about pop culture.

I also know a lot about dating. Specifically, long periods of shitty dating before finally meeting someone who meshes with me incredibly well. Extra-specifically, dating a chef. So I guess, by default, this blog will wind up being about my love affairs with food and, well, actual love affairs. Following still?

Now for our cast of characters- aside from myself, there will be at least two other people I can see myself writing about most frequently. The first is the guy I'm currently seeing, a fantastic chef who has been earning quite a bit of notoriety over the past two years (though I've only known him five months). The other is my boss, another excellent chef with a healthy heap of accolades. ...can you tell I like to surround myself with people with taste? For their privacy, I will refer to my guy as J, and my boss as Chef. It will just keep things simpler in the long run.

Aside from boredom, why am I bothering to start a blog? Well, I have been reading chef-related stuff all day, including the blog Desperate Chef Wives (http://www.desperatechefswives.com). Excellent material, all of it, but I was having a harder time relating. See, since I work in the industry, I wanted to find other women who could relate to my experiences- sharing similar hours, goals, ideology, and that sort of thing.

So, this is a perfectly selfish, self-serving blog. I want to find other lady line cooks like myself who happen to be dating "within the ranks", as Anthony Bourdain might say. So, here's to us, chickadees, wherever we may be hiding! And to the industry and fellow cooks we love so much.