Birds of a Feather : Cooks vs Pastry Cooks

There are two kinds of people in this world: those who divide the world into two kinds of people, and those who don't.

I would normally put myself into the latter category, but for the sake of this literary piece, I have succumbed into creating a segregation. Allow me to rephrase.

There are two kinds of people in the culinary world: cooks and pastry cooks. We are, in fact, poles apart, and if you really think about what we do, it makes perfect sense.

Cooks are creatures of habit and instinct. When a dish needs more seasoning or a sauce needs to be reduced some more, we just 'know'. We thrive in organized chaos and need the adrenalin rush of a busy dinner service to keep us going through the night.

Fishy Debate: Fresh vs Frozen

With an increasing awareness about the dangers that lurk within the meaty abyss, more people are now leaning towards the leaner, supposedly, healthier choice. But the perceived 'freshness' of fish raises many more eyebrows than its red fleshed counterpart does. In that regard, the debate over which is a better choice for fish-- fresh or frozen-- is a long drawn out one.

Let us first put some definitions on the plate. Fresh fish is that which has never EVER been frozen, right from the time it is caught to the time it reaches the table for eating. Frozen fish falls in the opposite category and has braved the cold in the freezer at some point.

The most important factor that affects the quality of fish is time. The fish our purveyors call 'fresh' has usually spent several lonely days (and nights) on ice before we get to buy it at the supermarket or fish supplier. Though this fish may technically be fresh, in all honesty, it may not pass the 'freshness' test.

To tell if a whole fish is fresh (a.k.a, has not spent a lot of time outside water and will taste good), you will have to get down and dirty with the fellow. Here are a few tips to help you decide.

Kitchen Jargon Demystified

The professional kitchen is an entirely different world with its own set of rules. It also has its own language-- one with strange references and hard-to-understand phrases. Here, I'm uncovering just a few of those many terms used almost daily in the kitchen.

Mees
Short for the french term 'mise-en-place' which means 'everything in place' a.k.a perfectly organized. It doesn't just refer to the actual prep but also having your utensils, plates, sauces and such on hand and in the right place positioned according to the perfect laws of ergonomics. The better the mise en place, the better the night will be. Every professional cook in the world will agree to that.

Oui
French word for "Yes" often used in response to Chef's instructions. The opposite, No, is seldom used.

Shoemaker
Sometimes confused with the dirtbag, this is someone who takes the shortcut route to preparing something, that usually ends up being a lower quality product.

Dirtbag
Someone who's personal hygiene is questionable or maintains a messy work environment around him.

Push/Rush
What the kitchen team needs to do to ensure a smooth service when the restaurant is really busy and orders are pouring in. A busy restaurant has several small pushes but also one big push during the busiest time of the night. Focus, organization, speed, and mad skills are critical in ensuring a particular station or the entire kitchen avoids being in the shits.

In the shits/going down
When a particular station or the entire kitchen (a nightmare!) fails to be able to cope with the orders coming in from the dining room. This could be due to several factors like poor leadership, bad organization, lack of focus etc.

The End of a Day in the Life of a Professional Cook

...Continued from Previous Post.

Not all Michelin-starred restaurants in New York City open their doors for dinner at 5 pm. What this means however is that on a busy Saturday night, I'll be constantly on the move for seven hours straight--chopping, sautéing, seasoning, tasting, and getting hundreds of plates in and out of the oven. On a busy Saturday night like tonight, that is.

That inner voice of mine speaks to me again. "Pace yourself Thomas, and keep your cool." That's critical to stay energized throughout the night.

As the orders start pouring in, the kitchen turns into an anthill of organized chaos, vividly resembling the inner workings of a well-oiled machine. Any loose ends or worn out pieces in this elaborate jigsaw puzzle will only render the finished product noticeably incomplete.

"Order, fire, pick up two market salad, one gazpacho, two salmon tartar, two beef carpaccio. On hold, three filet, two white tuna, one duck, one red snapper. Let's go!" "OUI, CHEF!" "New order. Pick up one bouillabaisse, two salmon, one lobster, two pappardelle. That's a direct order. I want that on the fly!" "OUI, CHEF!" "Order, fire, pick up one beet salad, one market salad! On hold, one roasted pumpkin ravioli, one spaghetti aglio olio. Busy now!" "OUI, CHEF" "Order, fire, pick up two lobster bisque, one veg. terrine, one smoked salmon..."

Chef's scruffy voice swallows the entire room; his commands are strong, clear, and efficient in discharge. His jargon is tailored to minimize chances of miscommunication and wrongly executed orders which could throw the entire kitchen into turmoil. The cooks always respond in amazingly coordinated unison and the energy in the room gets upped tenfold with every spontaneous "Oui, Chef!”

A Day in the Life of a Professional Cook Continues...

...Continued from previous post.

First things first. I quickly whip up a timeline. Like any good cook who has worked long enough in restaurant kitchens, I know that spending a few minutes getting organized and planning out the work will save me an eternity of chaos and disarray. Besides, knowing that I know what needs to be done and when also puts me at ease. The last thing I want to do is run around the kitchen like a headless chicken at crunch time.

A prep list is also quickly conjured up. Although it seems incredibly long, that feeling of being able to tick tasks off as they are completed is almost therapeutic.

Now onto the work itself. I start with the things that take the longest to get done. This seems obvious enough but if I pay no heed to this simple principle, it will bite me in the ass later.

A Day in the Life of a Professional Line Cook

BEEP! BEEP! BEEP!!!       BEEP! BEEP! BEEP!!!      BEEP! BEEP! BEEP!!!

Shit! It's 9:30 a.m. and I have just about half an hour to make it to work. Mustering up the little energy I have left after last night's rush, I convince myself to get out of bed. However, the task of waking up is only half complete; my mind is still predominantly asleep. A hot cup of coffee can do wonders for a sleepy soul and I quickly brew myself one. Off into the loo I go, grabbing the morning paper on the way.

This has become something of a ritual over the years as it must be for millions of people all over the world, I presume. Any deviation to this plan--say, if I run out of milk or the newspaper isn't delivered on time--and my day suddenly feels like it's been turned upside down.

It's winter in New York City and painfully cold at that. I slip into my only piece of warm clothing, a thick black leather jacket, and step outside. The restaurant is only six blocks away, a brisk ten minute walk, but I have only 12 minutes to get my butt inside the kitchen in full uniform. So I haul a cab and go the expensive route, which has lately become something of a habit that I'm not very proud of.

Ten Ingredients I Couldn't Live Without

Picture Tom Hanks in the movie 'Castaway' except I, Tom Zac, play the lead, and it's real life.

It is highly unlikely that I'd be stranded on a deserted island in my short lifetime. Considering the irratic climatic changes and economic hurdles that plague the world today, the chances of drastic food shortage in the near future appear to be much greater. But let's imagine that I do get marooned somehow.

I'm a lot fatter than Tom was at the start of the movie but I hopefully will go through the same weight loss program he did. I wake up not remembering how I got washed ashore this rather strange looking land. All I know is that I'm alone, I see no signs of civilization anywhere around, and my iPhone doesn't work. Uh oh.

Here's a Tip

You're dining at that fancy restaurant you've been dying to visit for months. The meal is fabulous and that time at the end of the meal is upon you, that dreaded time when your waiter places the black folder where your plate once sat.

Inside lies the bill for everything you've consumed so abashedly. The total is higher than you expected it to be (strangely enough, it almost always is) and you instantly scan it for monetary errors, or the thieving work of a cunning, money-hungry waiter; you fail to find either. Instead you notice, in fine print at the bottom, the 10 % service charge levied to you as restaurant policy.