've been working since I was 13. Since my parents are also entrepreneurs, they put me to work on the first day of summer vacation after I finished 7th grade. I still remember where I was when my mom picked me up from school. drove me to 12 Oaks Mall, and told me in the parking lot that I would start working in their office as an administrative assistant (she said, 'secretary') the next day. I was completely appalled. Summer was OVER and it hadn't even started yet.
I started working, and though it wasn't my dream job, it was an important starting point for me. Because I didn't like the work I was doing, I applied for other jobs and learned from those. I worked those jobs, went to school, and still worked for my parents. When I graduated from high school, I notified my parents that I was quitting, wrote my letter of resignation, and went off to culinary school.
I started working in the industry, and going to school full-time. A morbid combination of ambitious and conscientious, I never took time off, never went on a vacation, and plowed through, thinking, "I'll take a trip when I'm done with school...." I graduated from culinary school - and postponed my vacation again, "I'll take a vacation when I finish under-grad...".
I finished under-grad in the spring of 2002. 2 more years went by before I hit the wall and, on a whim, planned a trip to Vancouver and Alaska. I have very fond memories of that trip, even though I traveled with nearly a perfect stranger - someone I knew very casually, and then never kept in touch with after we came home.
Back to work, nose to the grindstone. I began the next phase of my career and never looked up. 7 years later, I quit my job to start my companies, and have a wonderful man to share everything with. He's all about working hard, but he understands that fun, relaxation, enjoying life, are important compliments to hard work.
Tomorrow, we are going on a mini-vacation, and I can't believe how much I am looking forward to it. It's not a major trip like Alaska, but it's major to me right now - since it's been almost a decade since I've taken the time to relax and enjoy my life, instead of obsessing about my career, and worried that there will be a punishing workload and email inbox awaiting me when I return.
All of that being said, this recovering workaholic will be taking my laptop with me, checking email, responding to clients and writing blogs, BUT, it sure beats the type of work that kept me tied to a building with clients coming in and out of its doors, and employees who needed a lot of direction.
For those of you who shop the Plymouth Farmers' Market for your weekly granola fix - I'm sorry to inform you that you'll have to jones for another week, as I do not have someone to work the market for me on Saturday. I will miss seeing all of my regulars, but promise to return fresh-faced, relaxed and excited to see you next week.
Take some time for yourself, wherever you can find it. Vacation, stay-cation, or some other type of adventure...don't wait! The summer, and more importantly, life, is too short!
Friday, July 29, 2011
Thursday, June 30, 2011
The High Price of Cheap Food & The Big Box Response
For several years, I was a vegetarian, and one of those years, I was vegan. Being vegetarian, especially a vegan vegetarian is a serious commitment, when following the lifestyle in a healthy way (getting enough protein, etc.) As a chef, it isn't only taste that concerns me, but the origin of the foods I eat. Now, I'm a vegetarian who fell off the wagon, so to speak, although, I'm not enjoying meat with wild abandon.
My years spent as a vegetarian were also spent educating myself on the black abyss known as Agribusiness. Voraciously reading journals, articles, books as well as viewing documentaries such as Food Inc., helped me to understand the origin of much of the food we eat in America.
Agribusiness is a complex issue, fraught with contention and mis-information. I'm a blogger and editorial writer, not an author of books, so I'll try to be succinct with this post. Did you know that 5 agribusiness conglomerates control the majority of the foods we eat in this country? That's, right - 5! From fresh food to processed food, most of whatever ends up on your table has been shepherded there by companies like ConAgra and their ilk are literally planting the seeds and watching them grow, with the help of lobbyists and lawmakers.
What I learned as I transitioned back to carnivore, after munching on greenery and lentils is that I wanted to be in touch with the story of the food I was putting in my body for my health, but also for the well-being of the animals that would pay the ultimate price for my indulgence.
Chefs love food, it's sort of a pre-requisite, so the idea of singling certain food groups out of our diets can be counter-intuitive. Of course, taste is high on our priority list, so eating food we enjoy is also something not to be discounted. As I began to eat meat, I made the decision that I would do so only consciously, which meant that I would not knowingly and thoughtlessly buy meat from companies that do not practice safe or humane handling and processing, I would not eat meat that I knew had been cooked thoughtlessly and without care, and I would not knowingly contribute to the neglect or mistreatment of livestock by purchasing dairy products (milk, cheese, eggs) from companies who did not ensure the welfare of their animals.
I subscribe to newsletters and participate in forums via advocacy groups like Slow Food and Food Inc. Today I learned that Costco is sourcing pork from a company in Iowa who is being investigated for brutal livestock handling practices, see the link here:
http://www.time.com/time/nation/article/0,8599,2080546,00.html
Kroger, Safeway, and another retailer are conducting investigations and Kroger has gone so far as to suspend purchases from Iowa Select until their investigation has concluded. I was discouraged to read that Costco is investigating, but will continue to do business with Iowa Select because "cutting off business with one particular farm in such a large industry would be ineffective."
I was appalled and horrified to learn that a chain as large as Costco, with the power of millions of members standing behind them, do not think that pulling the plug on Iowa Select would be an "effective way" to address the horrific practices perpetrated by factory farms.
I called Costco Customer Service to ask what their response is to the Time article and the representative then read (dispassionately) a statement issued by Costco's PR department, indicating that Costco was, in fact, still purchasing pork from Iowa Select.
I always feel like I'm about to jump out of my skin when someone says, "but I'm only one person, what difference could I make?" I want to shout at them, "A BIG FREAKING DIFFERENCE"!!! If everyone subscribed to that defeated manner of thinking, nothing would ever change. As the saying goes, "out of many, there is one". No cause is too big or issue impossible if all of the "ones" would make their convictions known. Think of all of the huge social issues and laws that were affected because a collection of "one" came together to influence change - slavery, the civil rights movement, sufferige, even freedom and independence from oppressive government. We will celebrate the 4th of July Monday because individual men and women knew that there was a better way to live.
Before you discount my argument as melodramatic or an overstatement, consider what we have at stake. Without higher standards in the processing of our food, with lobbyists making our choices for us, our bodies and overall health are subject to the special interests of very ignorant people. Those lobbying lawmakers are not doctors, nurses, scientists, or dietitians. Those who make the decisions about what we eat are woefully ignorant on the subject. They must think that because they EAT food, it makes them an EXPERT on food and nutrition, as well as ecology and animal welfare.
The great news is that people are waking up and making better choices, in spite of the garbage (literally and figuratively) being shoved down their throats by people who are the least qualified to dictate what we should and should not be eating. Farmer's Markets are booming, local food companies are gaining traction, publications like Edible Wow are being shared with enthusiasm.
From a PR perspective, Costco really blew it on this one. Who would have thought Kroger would have outsmarted the soccer-mom friendly superstore, Costco? Instead of setting a trend and taking a stand (even if it were all a carefully calculated PR move), Costco could have shown that Big Box could Think Big, and have a Big Heart. Unfortunately for them, Big Box made a Big Mistake.
Call Costco (800-774-2678) and tell them that their unwillingness to take a stand on behalf of their members is shameful. Even better, write a letter. Better than that - send this and the Time Magazine article to as many people you know, because out of many, there is one.
My years spent as a vegetarian were also spent educating myself on the black abyss known as Agribusiness. Voraciously reading journals, articles, books as well as viewing documentaries such as Food Inc., helped me to understand the origin of much of the food we eat in America.
Agribusiness is a complex issue, fraught with contention and mis-information. I'm a blogger and editorial writer, not an author of books, so I'll try to be succinct with this post. Did you know that 5 agribusiness conglomerates control the majority of the foods we eat in this country? That's, right - 5! From fresh food to processed food, most of whatever ends up on your table has been shepherded there by companies like ConAgra and their ilk are literally planting the seeds and watching them grow, with the help of lobbyists and lawmakers.
What I learned as I transitioned back to carnivore, after munching on greenery and lentils is that I wanted to be in touch with the story of the food I was putting in my body for my health, but also for the well-being of the animals that would pay the ultimate price for my indulgence.
Chefs love food, it's sort of a pre-requisite, so the idea of singling certain food groups out of our diets can be counter-intuitive. Of course, taste is high on our priority list, so eating food we enjoy is also something not to be discounted. As I began to eat meat, I made the decision that I would do so only consciously, which meant that I would not knowingly and thoughtlessly buy meat from companies that do not practice safe or humane handling and processing, I would not eat meat that I knew had been cooked thoughtlessly and without care, and I would not knowingly contribute to the neglect or mistreatment of livestock by purchasing dairy products (milk, cheese, eggs) from companies who did not ensure the welfare of their animals.
I subscribe to newsletters and participate in forums via advocacy groups like Slow Food and Food Inc. Today I learned that Costco is sourcing pork from a company in Iowa who is being investigated for brutal livestock handling practices, see the link here:
http://www.time.com/time/nation/article/0,8599,2080546,00.html
Kroger, Safeway, and another retailer are conducting investigations and Kroger has gone so far as to suspend purchases from Iowa Select until their investigation has concluded. I was discouraged to read that Costco is investigating, but will continue to do business with Iowa Select because "cutting off business with one particular farm in such a large industry would be ineffective."
I was appalled and horrified to learn that a chain as large as Costco, with the power of millions of members standing behind them, do not think that pulling the plug on Iowa Select would be an "effective way" to address the horrific practices perpetrated by factory farms.
I called Costco Customer Service to ask what their response is to the Time article and the representative then read (dispassionately) a statement issued by Costco's PR department, indicating that Costco was, in fact, still purchasing pork from Iowa Select.
I always feel like I'm about to jump out of my skin when someone says, "but I'm only one person, what difference could I make?" I want to shout at them, "A BIG FREAKING DIFFERENCE"!!! If everyone subscribed to that defeated manner of thinking, nothing would ever change. As the saying goes, "out of many, there is one". No cause is too big or issue impossible if all of the "ones" would make their convictions known. Think of all of the huge social issues and laws that were affected because a collection of "one" came together to influence change - slavery, the civil rights movement, sufferige, even freedom and independence from oppressive government. We will celebrate the 4th of July Monday because individual men and women knew that there was a better way to live.
Before you discount my argument as melodramatic or an overstatement, consider what we have at stake. Without higher standards in the processing of our food, with lobbyists making our choices for us, our bodies and overall health are subject to the special interests of very ignorant people. Those lobbying lawmakers are not doctors, nurses, scientists, or dietitians. Those who make the decisions about what we eat are woefully ignorant on the subject. They must think that because they EAT food, it makes them an EXPERT on food and nutrition, as well as ecology and animal welfare.
The great news is that people are waking up and making better choices, in spite of the garbage (literally and figuratively) being shoved down their throats by people who are the least qualified to dictate what we should and should not be eating. Farmer's Markets are booming, local food companies are gaining traction, publications like Edible Wow are being shared with enthusiasm.
From a PR perspective, Costco really blew it on this one. Who would have thought Kroger would have outsmarted the soccer-mom friendly superstore, Costco? Instead of setting a trend and taking a stand (even if it were all a carefully calculated PR move), Costco could have shown that Big Box could Think Big, and have a Big Heart. Unfortunately for them, Big Box made a Big Mistake.
Call Costco (800-774-2678) and tell them that their unwillingness to take a stand on behalf of their members is shameful. Even better, write a letter. Better than that - send this and the Time Magazine article to as many people you know, because out of many, there is one.
Sunday, October 24, 2010
Mirepoix - a Love Letter
How the hell did I get here?
When I met Tom Violante about 4 years ago, I had no idea that the person I was talking with was going to give me the opportunity of a lifetime, and, worse, that I was too dense to realize it. As we sat in his office, we discussed the “opportunity” and the conversation came to a close. Tom addressed me from across the desk and said, “So, what do you think?” I said, “About what?” “The job,” he said. “What job? I don’t know what you’re asking me to do. I don’t know what the job is.”
Without hesitation, Tom said, “Well, what do you want to do?” I was stunned. “what the hell does that mean?” I thought. I gave some kind of rambling answer. I was completely uncomfortable with this very general and open-ended kind of negotiating, and then silently vowed to stay away from Tom Violante and his mystery project.
See, I am a very specific person. I like lots of rules and boundaries and routine and expectations. I hate surprises and hate mistakes even more. My communication style is clear (should read, “sometimes abrupt”), and I like to know everything. EVERYTHING. Every detail, every nuance, everything newsworthy, every movement of every person essential to maintaining order in my universe (and even those not so critical), every potential liability and every potential loophole.
Tom, on the other hand, is very open. Tom is open to ideas in ways that I am not. Tom is open to business in ways I am not. Moreover, though, Tom is open to relationships and people in ways that I am not.
Tom likes to say, “yes”. I like to say, “convince me.”
His mind is open to everything. Because Tom is open to everything, Tom views situations in a light that is very, very different than mine. Mirepoix is an example of Tom’s openness, but more importantly, Tom’s intelligence. Mirepoix is past its infancy, and moving past “toddlerhood”. We’ve had the proverbial “growing pains”, and all of the ups and downs that come with operating a new business.
When Mirepoix opened its doors, there was nothing like it. There is still nothing like it. Mirepoix is like a beautiful, classic, timeless dish that pushes boundaries but still appeals to those looking for warmth and comfort. In that way, Mirepoix is a portrait of its owner. I wish I could say that I instinctively knew all of these things about Tom before I accepted the job, but as I stated earlier, I was way too dense to realize what Tom was actually proposing.
It took me a long time to understand Tom’s leadership and management style (about 2.5 years). Working from my framework of experience, I was used to being micro-managed. Since I a terminal over-achiever, nothing drives me harder than to demonstrate my value to my boss, because my career is the most important thing to me. I’ve been used to working with people who demand that you prove your worth. I’ve been conditioned to hoop-jumping, moving targets, and sometimes, overtly antagonistic managers.
For a long time, I ran myself in circles, trying to demonstrate my worth to Tom so that he would trust me and come to see that I was competent and talented. After every attempt to showcase my abilities, I came away with a really disappointing feeling and could never figure out why.
In time I learned that I never needed to do that; Tom didn’t want the details because he knew I was doing what needed to be done. He had the big picture, and my job was to make it happen. He didn’t expect a daily update, he just expected and trusted that his vision for Mirepoix would come into existence.
What makes Tom different is that he starts with the fundamental belief that people are capable and good. He doesn’t treat people like they can’t be trusted; trust is given freely. He doesn’t punish people or penalize them for mistakes (or even outright poor performance); he works with them to try to correct the problem. Even more amazing, he doesn’t expect them to make the same mistakes all over again!
I am a complete and total pain in the ass. I don’t shy away from it, I don’t even deny it or try to spin it. I KNOW what a pain I am, and most of the time, I don’t care. Historically, my respect has to be earned (hey, I didn’t start at the Tom Violante School of Leadership), and I trust almost no one. There are very few people I admire, and even fewer people that I will go out of my way to accommodate.
Tom has earned my respect in so many ways and has become “one of my favorite people” (small club). Even though he might not ever believe it, there are many times that I will have a reaction to something that I know Tom would find disappointing, and I take a moment to stop and think about how he would want me to act. Or, I consider how my reaction might create major waves in Tom’s pond, waste his time, or generally annoy him, and I try to tone it down.
I’ve told more than three people that I would “crawl on broken glass” for him, and I mean it. Tom’s brand of leadership is kind, open, humorous, insightful, generous and quietly strong. As much as Tom’s willingness to overlook the faults and egregious actions of others can sometimes annoy, anger and mystify me, I know I have benefitted greatly from his mercy and compassion.
I came to Mirepoix almost 4 years ago after working in professional kitchens as a garde manger, pastry chef, and apprentice at Schoolcraft for Joe Decker, CMPC, Kevin Gawronski, CMC, (International Cuisine) and Dan Hugelier (a la carte, restaurant operations).
In culinary school, I was yelled at by one of my chefs a total of 4times: Twice by Chef Decker (once for using the wrong tool to stir something, and once on an unrelated personal matter), once by Polcyn (for interrupting him during a butchery announcement about some lobsters that we needed for restaurant ops), and once by Gabriel for over-cooking some green beans.
As a 17 year old culinary student, needing order in my life, I was drawn to what Anthony Bourdain refers to as “the absolutes” of the business. Culinary school and the restaurant industry, though rife with its own type of chaos, debauchery and outrageous antics brought a sense of order, pride and direction into my young life. I made it my priority to learn everything anyone had to teach me, ask as many questions as possible, and WATCH EVERYTHING AND EVERYONE. The detail obsessed over-achiever in me was determined to be one step ahead of absolutely everyone.
Early influences include each chef who taught my classes, the lore of Milos (who we, to this day, revere as a god among men), Bourdain (and the fabled Bigfoot who remains my hero to this day – I read that chapter at least once a week) and the brilliant and under-appreciated James Beard.
In business, I’m known as a perfectionist, an obsessive, over-the-top detail freak, control fanatic, colorful, descriptive, direct and outspoken communicator, an ambitious director of projects and people. I can be demanding, with standards that have been considered to be “too high” (even by some of my employers), picky and intolerant of laziness, apathy, self-indulgence, poor-performance, and disrespect pointed towards me and my business.
Demanding as I can be, though, I will do some things that many people will not do. I will set you up for success from the beginning and let you know right off the bat, where we stand. I’m specific about my expectations, likes, dislikes, and rules. I am patient with the eager & willing to learn. I am loyal and protective of those who earn my respect.
I am constantly multi-tasking, 3 months ahead in my mind of wherever we may currently be on the calendar, and making plans for the next three months after that. I’m specific and want to know all of the information upfront. I don’t like surprises so I’m always going to try to be ready and expect you to be ready too.
I love food, I love reading about food, talking about food, and more than that, I love food theory. I love writing about food and I LOVE the food business. I love the organized chaos, mayhem, and banter. I love the angst, adrenaline and pace. I
love cooks and chefs and I love dishwashers more.
I love Mirepoix as if it were my own. I hope you love it too
When I met Tom Violante about 4 years ago, I had no idea that the person I was talking with was going to give me the opportunity of a lifetime, and, worse, that I was too dense to realize it. As we sat in his office, we discussed the “opportunity” and the conversation came to a close. Tom addressed me from across the desk and said, “So, what do you think?” I said, “About what?” “The job,” he said. “What job? I don’t know what you’re asking me to do. I don’t know what the job is.”
Without hesitation, Tom said, “Well, what do you want to do?” I was stunned. “what the hell does that mean?” I thought. I gave some kind of rambling answer. I was completely uncomfortable with this very general and open-ended kind of negotiating, and then silently vowed to stay away from Tom Violante and his mystery project.
See, I am a very specific person. I like lots of rules and boundaries and routine and expectations. I hate surprises and hate mistakes even more. My communication style is clear (should read, “sometimes abrupt”), and I like to know everything. EVERYTHING. Every detail, every nuance, everything newsworthy, every movement of every person essential to maintaining order in my universe (and even those not so critical), every potential liability and every potential loophole.
Tom, on the other hand, is very open. Tom is open to ideas in ways that I am not. Tom is open to business in ways I am not. Moreover, though, Tom is open to relationships and people in ways that I am not.
Tom likes to say, “yes”. I like to say, “convince me.”
His mind is open to everything. Because Tom is open to everything, Tom views situations in a light that is very, very different than mine. Mirepoix is an example of Tom’s openness, but more importantly, Tom’s intelligence. Mirepoix is past its infancy, and moving past “toddlerhood”. We’ve had the proverbial “growing pains”, and all of the ups and downs that come with operating a new business.
When Mirepoix opened its doors, there was nothing like it. There is still nothing like it. Mirepoix is like a beautiful, classic, timeless dish that pushes boundaries but still appeals to those looking for warmth and comfort. In that way, Mirepoix is a portrait of its owner. I wish I could say that I instinctively knew all of these things about Tom before I accepted the job, but as I stated earlier, I was way too dense to realize what Tom was actually proposing.
It took me a long time to understand Tom’s leadership and management style (about 2.5 years). Working from my framework of experience, I was used to being micro-managed. Since I a terminal over-achiever, nothing drives me harder than to demonstrate my value to my boss, because my career is the most important thing to me. I’ve been used to working with people who demand that you prove your worth. I’ve been conditioned to hoop-jumping, moving targets, and sometimes, overtly antagonistic managers.
For a long time, I ran myself in circles, trying to demonstrate my worth to Tom so that he would trust me and come to see that I was competent and talented. After every attempt to showcase my abilities, I came away with a really disappointing feeling and could never figure out why.
In time I learned that I never needed to do that; Tom didn’t want the details because he knew I was doing what needed to be done. He had the big picture, and my job was to make it happen. He didn’t expect a daily update, he just expected and trusted that his vision for Mirepoix would come into existence.
What makes Tom different is that he starts with the fundamental belief that people are capable and good. He doesn’t treat people like they can’t be trusted; trust is given freely. He doesn’t punish people or penalize them for mistakes (or even outright poor performance); he works with them to try to correct the problem. Even more amazing, he doesn’t expect them to make the same mistakes all over again!
I am a complete and total pain in the ass. I don’t shy away from it, I don’t even deny it or try to spin it. I KNOW what a pain I am, and most of the time, I don’t care. Historically, my respect has to be earned (hey, I didn’t start at the Tom Violante School of Leadership), and I trust almost no one. There are very few people I admire, and even fewer people that I will go out of my way to accommodate.
Tom has earned my respect in so many ways and has become “one of my favorite people” (small club). Even though he might not ever believe it, there are many times that I will have a reaction to something that I know Tom would find disappointing, and I take a moment to stop and think about how he would want me to act. Or, I consider how my reaction might create major waves in Tom’s pond, waste his time, or generally annoy him, and I try to tone it down.
I’ve told more than three people that I would “crawl on broken glass” for him, and I mean it. Tom’s brand of leadership is kind, open, humorous, insightful, generous and quietly strong. As much as Tom’s willingness to overlook the faults and egregious actions of others can sometimes annoy, anger and mystify me, I know I have benefitted greatly from his mercy and compassion.
I came to Mirepoix almost 4 years ago after working in professional kitchens as a garde manger, pastry chef, and apprentice at Schoolcraft for Joe Decker, CMPC, Kevin Gawronski, CMC, (International Cuisine) and Dan Hugelier (a la carte, restaurant operations).
In culinary school, I was yelled at by one of my chefs a total of 4times: Twice by Chef Decker (once for using the wrong tool to stir something, and once on an unrelated personal matter), once by Polcyn (for interrupting him during a butchery announcement about some lobsters that we needed for restaurant ops), and once by Gabriel for over-cooking some green beans.
As a 17 year old culinary student, needing order in my life, I was drawn to what Anthony Bourdain refers to as “the absolutes” of the business. Culinary school and the restaurant industry, though rife with its own type of chaos, debauchery and outrageous antics brought a sense of order, pride and direction into my young life. I made it my priority to learn everything anyone had to teach me, ask as many questions as possible, and WATCH EVERYTHING AND EVERYONE. The detail obsessed over-achiever in me was determined to be one step ahead of absolutely everyone.
Early influences include each chef who taught my classes, the lore of Milos (who we, to this day, revere as a god among men), Bourdain (and the fabled Bigfoot who remains my hero to this day – I read that chapter at least once a week) and the brilliant and under-appreciated James Beard.
In business, I’m known as a perfectionist, an obsessive, over-the-top detail freak, control fanatic, colorful, descriptive, direct and outspoken communicator, an ambitious director of projects and people. I can be demanding, with standards that have been considered to be “too high” (even by some of my employers), picky and intolerant of laziness, apathy, self-indulgence, poor-performance, and disrespect pointed towards me and my business.
Demanding as I can be, though, I will do some things that many people will not do. I will set you up for success from the beginning and let you know right off the bat, where we stand. I’m specific about my expectations, likes, dislikes, and rules. I am patient with the eager & willing to learn. I am loyal and protective of those who earn my respect.
I am constantly multi-tasking, 3 months ahead in my mind of wherever we may currently be on the calendar, and making plans for the next three months after that. I’m specific and want to know all of the information upfront. I don’t like surprises so I’m always going to try to be ready and expect you to be ready too.
I love food, I love reading about food, talking about food, and more than that, I love food theory. I love writing about food and I LOVE the food business. I love the organized chaos, mayhem, and banter. I love the angst, adrenaline and pace. I
love cooks and chefs and I love dishwashers more.
I love Mirepoix as if it were my own. I hope you love it too
A Pirate's Life for Me
As I sit at my desk, preparing for tonight's Famous Local Restaurants class at Mirepoix, I run through all of the recipes I want to feature in our recipe packet. When I reflect on my time at The Golden Mushroom, I can't help but smile when I reminisce about the completely unreasonable state of the kitchens, the hilarious and varied cast of characters, the everyday stresses of working in a professional kitchen(which were exponentially increased by the spontaneous and unexplainable defrosting of our walk-in freezer) or the time I got so stressed out, I broke out in hives and had to run out to the drug store in the middle of my shift(funny - now the former site of the Golden Mushroom is a CVS). Good times. Really.
Though I have a true fondness for restaurants and their never-ending outrageous pace, many people ask me if I want to own my own restaurant, and my answer has always been (without hesitation) "NO!". My little nook in the food industry here at Mirepoix is my dream; I'm doing what I always wanted to do but could never quantify until I got here. Still, sometimes, I miss the frenzy, chaos, mayhem, and pirate ship mentality of a working kitchen.
Restaurant life is not for everyone. My father owned a Ram’s Horn restaurant in the 70’s and hated “the business” so much, he sold his interest to his partner for a dollar. He went on to pursue other opportunities and refers to the two happiest days of his life as, “the day he bought the restaurant and the day he sold it” (I’m sure his marriage to my mother and the birth of each of his children, are implied, though not enumerated).
Just over 20 years later, I announced that I would be attending culinary school and quitting the family business. My parents, certain that I would never actually quit, my ignored my formal and written resignation, and after I finished my 2 week’s notice, everyone was amazed when I really did stop coming into work.
Culinary school was a revelation. After graduation, my career in “the business” began. 5 Lake Grill, Café Bon Homme, Gravity Bar & Grill, and The Golden Mushroom were all ports on my tour of duty. Each place had its special little brand of "crazy".
Sadly, after the 90’s drew to a close, and “The Big 3” and other major players (advertising execs, law firms, etc.) put the crack-down on expense accounts, fine dining (what little of it we actually had) in Metro Detroit took a major, and unfortunately, almost fatal hit.
Famous Local Restaurants is our way of acknowledging and paying tribute to the places where many Metro-Detroiters celebrated life’s accomplishments, anniversaries, birthdays and other special occasions. It’s our way of celebrating the chefs who taught us so much, such as Brian Polcyn, and of course, “The Godfather”, Milos Cihelka (just to name a couple). Real chefs, real trend-setters, and most importantly, real mentors.
We offer this class a couple of times a year. Should you ever decide to take it, I hope you enjoy it as much we enjoyed working in 100 degree kitchens at a break-neck pace with the chef breathing down our necks, loud cursing in the background and no end in sight; you have my word we won’t yell at you and it's significantly cooler in our kitchen.
Though I have a true fondness for restaurants and their never-ending outrageous pace, many people ask me if I want to own my own restaurant, and my answer has always been (without hesitation) "NO!". My little nook in the food industry here at Mirepoix is my dream; I'm doing what I always wanted to do but could never quantify until I got here. Still, sometimes, I miss the frenzy, chaos, mayhem, and pirate ship mentality of a working kitchen.
Restaurant life is not for everyone. My father owned a Ram’s Horn restaurant in the 70’s and hated “the business” so much, he sold his interest to his partner for a dollar. He went on to pursue other opportunities and refers to the two happiest days of his life as, “the day he bought the restaurant and the day he sold it” (I’m sure his marriage to my mother and the birth of each of his children, are implied, though not enumerated).
Just over 20 years later, I announced that I would be attending culinary school and quitting the family business. My parents, certain that I would never actually quit, my ignored my formal and written resignation, and after I finished my 2 week’s notice, everyone was amazed when I really did stop coming into work.
Culinary school was a revelation. After graduation, my career in “the business” began. 5 Lake Grill, Café Bon Homme, Gravity Bar & Grill, and The Golden Mushroom were all ports on my tour of duty. Each place had its special little brand of "crazy".
Sadly, after the 90’s drew to a close, and “The Big 3” and other major players (advertising execs, law firms, etc.) put the crack-down on expense accounts, fine dining (what little of it we actually had) in Metro Detroit took a major, and unfortunately, almost fatal hit.
Famous Local Restaurants is our way of acknowledging and paying tribute to the places where many Metro-Detroiters celebrated life’s accomplishments, anniversaries, birthdays and other special occasions. It’s our way of celebrating the chefs who taught us so much, such as Brian Polcyn, and of course, “The Godfather”, Milos Cihelka (just to name a couple). Real chefs, real trend-setters, and most importantly, real mentors.
We offer this class a couple of times a year. Should you ever decide to take it, I hope you enjoy it as much we enjoyed working in 100 degree kitchens at a break-neck pace with the chef breathing down our necks, loud cursing in the background and no end in sight; you have my word we won’t yell at you and it's significantly cooler in our kitchen.
Work for the Willing - How the Latino Workforce Props up the Biz
This column is bound to piss someone off. In fact, it’s bound to piss a lot of people off. If you find yourself in the camp of those who want to see a bunch of Latinos corralled and carted off to their homeland, with a big “adios” and a giant middle finger salute, you will probably never want to read another one of my columns again.
Worse, I might end up on some kind of watchlist for this one, but, my vocal disdain for the ever-expanding federal government has probably already been registered on the grid somewhere, so, what the hell...
Perhaps you are one who likes to voice your never-ending discontent that you, like many other Americanos, are unemployed. Licking your wounds while putting in a full day on Facebook with your couch permanently dented, you say things like, “I can’t find a job.” Or, “there’s no work for me.” or, my favorite, “I’ve looked everywhere; there’s nothing.”
While the Sean Hannity’s and Frank Beckman’s of the world bemoan the plague known as “the illegal”, millions of other Americans recite the refrain from the same right-wing hymnal (I wonder how many more days I will be allowed to serve as a precinct delegate in the Republican party after this hits the net…). The problem with this is that not only do these people only know one verse, they’re tone deaf too.
I know I probably don’t have to spend a lot of time convincing some of the people in my industry (especially those in kitchens in LA, NYC, Miami, Chicago, etc.) that our amigos in the Hispanic culture are the backbone of our savage little skeleton. For those of you who are unfamiliar with the fact that Latinos are literally our unseen and very effective army, all I can say to you is, “wake up”.
Now, before you get the wrong idea, I need to put to bed the much repeated, seldom verified, and not-often-proven notion that all of these people are here illegally and that their status is suspect. Many of these men and women are here legally and the assertion that they are not, is not only insulting, but embarrassing, not to them, but to those of you who make those assertions (and for those of us other white people who get lumped in with you and your ignorant claims).
Now, before I continue, I will make a series of qualified statements so as not to offend some of the very solid, talented and ambitious Americans with whom I have worked. Generally speaking, I have had the pleasure of working alongside some tremendous men and women who are not of the Latino persuasion. You know who you are; you were/are great – so don’t email me. But this column isn’t to praise you; we have 24 hour programming on the Food Network to do that. This column is about bringing to light the nasty little topic that no one really wants to seriously discuss: The Latino & the American payroll.
I also know that jobs are not in surplus right now, so I'm not suggesting that if you are currently without one, you are a schmuck. We all know the difference between the people who actually want to work from those who don't. I overheard a conversation about 3 months ago between two women who were sitting at the table next to me while I was out to dinner. The one woman was really upset and her friend asked her why. She explained that she had just been laid off. Without missing a beat, her friend exclaimed, “I wish I could get laid off! I hate my job! I could collect unemployment and relax for once!”. I couldn’t believe what I had just heard. I nearly jumped out of my seat and yelled at her.
I love to hire Hispanic people because of their enthusiasm, passion, work ethic, ambition, and sense of appreciation and their noticeable lack of a sense of entitlement where promotion and hourly rate are concerned. Routinely, mi amigos run circles around their American counterparts. While the Caucasian dishwashers stand around the stereo listening to Eminem, Metallica & Jay Z, talking about their fantasy football league, Juan, Jose, Angel and Jesus are diligently scrubbing the grout behind the pot racks. While Jim and Christian are outside having a smoke, the south-of-the-border army is taking the unruly wheel off a kitchen cart with a screwdriver and giving it the WD-40 treatment so that it runs right again.
At 4 o’clock, as prep cooks and even some sous chefs are bitching about how “busy” they are, and how “tired” they are while setting up the line for dinner service, after rolling out of bed 45 minutes ago, the Fuerzas Especiales, are walking in after finishing lunch service at another restaurant, ready to start the second shift of their 16 hour day.
I will hire, train, promote and protect anyone who will give me their 100% effort. I will go to the ends of the earth to assist and support someone who has the passion and commitment to learn, better themselves, promote my business, and look out for my professional interests.
For a select few (and I DO mean “select”) I will go significantly out of my way to set them up for success. Need help getting a car? I can do that. Need a letter of reference for a new place to rent? I can do that too. Need to find a class to increase your knowledge and improve your chances for promotion in our industry? I’ll look online and point you in the right direction. Want to borrow a book or need a few tools that will help you get the job done? Come see me. Ready to move on? I’ll make some calls.
What I love about my current employee, Jose, is that he knows exactly what I want before I have to tell him I want it. I THINK IT and HE DOES IT. This, this my friend, is exactly how kitchens should run. Jose watches carefully and whatever he doesn’t speak or understand in English, he can correctly translate the concept. His skills of anticipation, observation, and sheer speed and efficiency will make him a success in our industry, long after he works for me.
What also makes him unique and has caused him to earn my respect is his sense of loyalty and gratitude. Jose is truly thankful to come to work everyday. He’s truly appreciative of every hour he is scheduled, and he gives all of his effort, no matter how tired he is, or how much he misses his family. He is never late, never lazy, never distracted and never off-point. I never wonder where he is or when he’s coming back. I don’t worry that he’s doing something embarrassing or obnoxious.
The other thing that makes him and many other people like him unique is their willingness to do ANY job. They aren’t too good to sweep, mop floors, clean a grease trap, fix a garbage disposal, or work in a stifling kitchen. They plow fields, pick produce, process animal carcasses, serve fast food, cut lawns, dig ditches, and clean bathrooms. And, they do it for significantly less money than many Americans are willing to even consider getting out of bed in the morning for.
They pay taxes, (even the illegal ones who've somehow acquired a SS number), to the tune of multiple millions of dollars each year, and they prop up the economy in other ways. By no means am I suggesting that I am a proponent of illegally entering and living in the United States. What I am suggesting is that this issue is more of a lightning rod than anything else. I am also suggesting that there are further-reaching consequences to marginalizing this demographic to suit our political tastes. The world is far too complex for all of the partisan talking points.
Instead of benefitting from the double-standard we’ve established in this country, and wringing our hands in fraudulent and shallow disdain, it would be refreshing to see an honest dialog. Instead of dismissive statements and platitudes, we owe it to ourselves to face some really uncomfortable realities. Until we are able to face the changing landscape of the economic conditions we find ourselves in, and work to solve the problem, (not capitalize on it or manipulate it for our gain), we'll solve nothing and keep complaining all the way to the nearest rally.
Worse, I might end up on some kind of watchlist for this one, but, my vocal disdain for the ever-expanding federal government has probably already been registered on the grid somewhere, so, what the hell...
Perhaps you are one who likes to voice your never-ending discontent that you, like many other Americanos, are unemployed. Licking your wounds while putting in a full day on Facebook with your couch permanently dented, you say things like, “I can’t find a job.” Or, “there’s no work for me.” or, my favorite, “I’ve looked everywhere; there’s nothing.”
While the Sean Hannity’s and Frank Beckman’s of the world bemoan the plague known as “the illegal”, millions of other Americans recite the refrain from the same right-wing hymnal (I wonder how many more days I will be allowed to serve as a precinct delegate in the Republican party after this hits the net…). The problem with this is that not only do these people only know one verse, they’re tone deaf too.
I know I probably don’t have to spend a lot of time convincing some of the people in my industry (especially those in kitchens in LA, NYC, Miami, Chicago, etc.) that our amigos in the Hispanic culture are the backbone of our savage little skeleton. For those of you who are unfamiliar with the fact that Latinos are literally our unseen and very effective army, all I can say to you is, “wake up”.
Now, before you get the wrong idea, I need to put to bed the much repeated, seldom verified, and not-often-proven notion that all of these people are here illegally and that their status is suspect. Many of these men and women are here legally and the assertion that they are not, is not only insulting, but embarrassing, not to them, but to those of you who make those assertions (and for those of us other white people who get lumped in with you and your ignorant claims).
Now, before I continue, I will make a series of qualified statements so as not to offend some of the very solid, talented and ambitious Americans with whom I have worked. Generally speaking, I have had the pleasure of working alongside some tremendous men and women who are not of the Latino persuasion. You know who you are; you were/are great – so don’t email me. But this column isn’t to praise you; we have 24 hour programming on the Food Network to do that. This column is about bringing to light the nasty little topic that no one really wants to seriously discuss: The Latino & the American payroll.
I also know that jobs are not in surplus right now, so I'm not suggesting that if you are currently without one, you are a schmuck. We all know the difference between the people who actually want to work from those who don't. I overheard a conversation about 3 months ago between two women who were sitting at the table next to me while I was out to dinner. The one woman was really upset and her friend asked her why. She explained that she had just been laid off. Without missing a beat, her friend exclaimed, “I wish I could get laid off! I hate my job! I could collect unemployment and relax for once!”. I couldn’t believe what I had just heard. I nearly jumped out of my seat and yelled at her.
I love to hire Hispanic people because of their enthusiasm, passion, work ethic, ambition, and sense of appreciation and their noticeable lack of a sense of entitlement where promotion and hourly rate are concerned. Routinely, mi amigos run circles around their American counterparts. While the Caucasian dishwashers stand around the stereo listening to Eminem, Metallica & Jay Z, talking about their fantasy football league, Juan, Jose, Angel and Jesus are diligently scrubbing the grout behind the pot racks. While Jim and Christian are outside having a smoke, the south-of-the-border army is taking the unruly wheel off a kitchen cart with a screwdriver and giving it the WD-40 treatment so that it runs right again.
At 4 o’clock, as prep cooks and even some sous chefs are bitching about how “busy” they are, and how “tired” they are while setting up the line for dinner service, after rolling out of bed 45 minutes ago, the Fuerzas Especiales, are walking in after finishing lunch service at another restaurant, ready to start the second shift of their 16 hour day.
I will hire, train, promote and protect anyone who will give me their 100% effort. I will go to the ends of the earth to assist and support someone who has the passion and commitment to learn, better themselves, promote my business, and look out for my professional interests.
For a select few (and I DO mean “select”) I will go significantly out of my way to set them up for success. Need help getting a car? I can do that. Need a letter of reference for a new place to rent? I can do that too. Need to find a class to increase your knowledge and improve your chances for promotion in our industry? I’ll look online and point you in the right direction. Want to borrow a book or need a few tools that will help you get the job done? Come see me. Ready to move on? I’ll make some calls.
What I love about my current employee, Jose, is that he knows exactly what I want before I have to tell him I want it. I THINK IT and HE DOES IT. This, this my friend, is exactly how kitchens should run. Jose watches carefully and whatever he doesn’t speak or understand in English, he can correctly translate the concept. His skills of anticipation, observation, and sheer speed and efficiency will make him a success in our industry, long after he works for me.
What also makes him unique and has caused him to earn my respect is his sense of loyalty and gratitude. Jose is truly thankful to come to work everyday. He’s truly appreciative of every hour he is scheduled, and he gives all of his effort, no matter how tired he is, or how much he misses his family. He is never late, never lazy, never distracted and never off-point. I never wonder where he is or when he’s coming back. I don’t worry that he’s doing something embarrassing or obnoxious.
The other thing that makes him and many other people like him unique is their willingness to do ANY job. They aren’t too good to sweep, mop floors, clean a grease trap, fix a garbage disposal, or work in a stifling kitchen. They plow fields, pick produce, process animal carcasses, serve fast food, cut lawns, dig ditches, and clean bathrooms. And, they do it for significantly less money than many Americans are willing to even consider getting out of bed in the morning for.
They pay taxes, (even the illegal ones who've somehow acquired a SS number), to the tune of multiple millions of dollars each year, and they prop up the economy in other ways. By no means am I suggesting that I am a proponent of illegally entering and living in the United States. What I am suggesting is that this issue is more of a lightning rod than anything else. I am also suggesting that there are further-reaching consequences to marginalizing this demographic to suit our political tastes. The world is far too complex for all of the partisan talking points.
Instead of benefitting from the double-standard we’ve established in this country, and wringing our hands in fraudulent and shallow disdain, it would be refreshing to see an honest dialog. Instead of dismissive statements and platitudes, we owe it to ourselves to face some really uncomfortable realities. Until we are able to face the changing landscape of the economic conditions we find ourselves in, and work to solve the problem, (not capitalize on it or manipulate it for our gain), we'll solve nothing and keep complaining all the way to the nearest rally.
Monday, July 5, 2010
Target
My first mistake was trying to go to Target on Saturday. Have you ever been to Target on Saturday? I apologize if that seems to be a stupid question, but in my line of work, Saturday errand running is not exactly an option.
As soon as I drove into the parking lot, I should have known, and should’ve promptly turned around. It seemed like hundreds of cars were zooming around the parking lot, slamming on the brakes and inching along as they stalked the closest parking spot. Like a cheetah hunting a gazelle, Windstar minivans slowly crept through the tight aisles until they SLAMMED on the gas to whip into the spot just vacated by another vehicle.
Mothers and children were ambling through the rows of cars, haphazardly making their way to the entrance. “She should really put a leash on that one; it’s dangerous out here….” I thought to myself. ‘If I had one of those, it would totally be on a leash….”
Inside, I was amazed by the swarms of people, and all of them, and I mean ALL of them, seeming not to have anywhere else in the world that they needed to be after they collected their Rubbermade tubs, hula hoops, flash drives and Vicks Vapo-Rub.
I, on the other hand, had lots of places to be after I snatched up my Coke Zero, Post-it Notes, binder clips, bathing suit, and birthday card. It didn’t take long to notice that I was the only person walking quickly and in a straight line. Post-it Notes, check. Bathing suit, check. Binder Clips, yes. Birthday card…check. ‘Zero’! It’s on sale!
As I zoomed over to where the ‘Zero’ was, I came upon a woman who had parked her shopping cart diagonally in the aisle. Her screaming toddler’s wailing was going, apparently, unnoticed (by her), as he flailed about in the enormous red basket. Annoyed that she would assume that she is the only person who may have a need for granola bars, I barked out a pointed, but clear, “BEHIND YOU”.
Oh my god.
The look.
We were like an explorer and a native of some lost tribe, discovering the other, and then staring quizzically, perplexed by this mysterious person staring right back.
It was in that moment that I remembered that “on the outside”, people say, “excuse me”. I was not wielding a chef’s knife or a hot roasting pan…I was just tying to get to the ‘Zero’. The problem is this; civilians are not accustomed to being notified by your nearness with an abrupt announcement. They are much more comfortable with such niceties like, “pardon me”, or, “I’m sorry; could I just sneak past you?” all uttered in a very sheepish tenor, with eyes fixated on the floor.
There is generally nothing ‘sheepish’ about me, and nothing sheepish about any other chefs I know. Proud, assertive, hurried, and confident, we have places to go and not very much time to get there. Time wasting, dawdling, and moseying about is not tolerated in a professional kitchen. Wandering is an indicator of uselessness and inferiority. A cook who casually strolls to and fro in your kitchen has about a 3 day expiration date before the pack forces him out.
Likewise, in a kitchen, you would never sprawl out everywhere, with all of your tools, ingredients, and recipes strewn about. Being able to work in a tight, sometimes unreasonably small space is the mark of flexibility, efficiency, and resourcefulness. A chef would never park his or her shopping cart diagonally in the aisle of any store.
Nor would a chef walk around, seemingly unaware of their whereabouts, and the proximity of other people around them, looking genuinely surprised when another person crossed their path; and by ‘path’, I mean, their transverse meandering through a common walkway, pushing a shopping cart and looking everywhere except straight ahead.
So, there we were, staring at each other, almost daring the other to push this just a little further. The woman snapped up her Nutrigrain bars and pushed her cart, as I passed silent judgment on her for buying such inferior, chemically-laced foodstuffs made in some factory by someone wearing a hairnet and lab coat. She muttered something under her breath as she continued her shopping elsewhere in the aisles of the bustling store.
Judgment reciprocated.
Her toddler was still screaming. I could sense that she had moved over to the electronics, based on the dullness of his shrill cries. Maybe she will buy a GPS to show her where she was going, and objects surrounding her. Jeez, do they make those like a pedometer – something she could strap to her shoe? That would be nice… I wondered if he screamed at such a decibel that she was unable to hear, much like dogs have that heightened sense of hearing on the opposite end of the spectrum.
I strolled up to the Zero, shaking my head. I wondered what it was like to be this unaware, this isolated. My god, what a gift that would be… the ability to totally zone out and go through life unfettered by the various incidents and people around you. Total and complete ignorance, aware only of what it right in front of you at any moment. I can’t even conceive of it.
Intensity is a trait I’ve long possessed. As I child I was quite focused. As an adult I persist in my tightly wound ways. Deliberate actions, effort guided by thought, I move through life with a sense of high-strung ambition. There is an annoyingly strong pull about my energy, as well as an annoyingly strong resistance to the flow of those lesser intense people around me.
“See, Stac - your standards are just too high…” or my other favorite, “you think too much”. Two, count them, TWO of my former employers have said those unthinkable words to me. And I thought I was coasting. Shit.
Contemplation. Thought. Effort. Painstaking measures. There is always a reason for absolutely everything that I do. Nothing that I do is arbitrary, nothing is an afterthought. Relentless. Driven. Always chasing something. Nothing is good enough. Ever. Even this column has taken me 3 months to finish, and, it still isn’t right.
To be a chef, you have to be a risk taker. You have to be confident. You have to be bold. You have to be your own unstoppable force. There has to be something that throbs deep inside you, the pulsating creativity and brilliance of making beautiful order out of total chaos.
It might seem a little extreme, and, maybe it is. But I don’t find it to be all that uncommon. The chef as a professional is the embodiment of passion. Some people were wired to be engineers, born with the critical thinking skills that make them successful at solving the riddles of the modern world. Others seem to have been born with the language skills of the great orators of the ages. Sometimes, you just can’t separate yourself from who you really are, even if you’re at Target.
As soon as I drove into the parking lot, I should have known, and should’ve promptly turned around. It seemed like hundreds of cars were zooming around the parking lot, slamming on the brakes and inching along as they stalked the closest parking spot. Like a cheetah hunting a gazelle, Windstar minivans slowly crept through the tight aisles until they SLAMMED on the gas to whip into the spot just vacated by another vehicle.
Mothers and children were ambling through the rows of cars, haphazardly making their way to the entrance. “She should really put a leash on that one; it’s dangerous out here….” I thought to myself. ‘If I had one of those, it would totally be on a leash….”
Inside, I was amazed by the swarms of people, and all of them, and I mean ALL of them, seeming not to have anywhere else in the world that they needed to be after they collected their Rubbermade tubs, hula hoops, flash drives and Vicks Vapo-Rub.
I, on the other hand, had lots of places to be after I snatched up my Coke Zero, Post-it Notes, binder clips, bathing suit, and birthday card. It didn’t take long to notice that I was the only person walking quickly and in a straight line. Post-it Notes, check. Bathing suit, check. Binder Clips, yes. Birthday card…check. ‘Zero’! It’s on sale!
As I zoomed over to where the ‘Zero’ was, I came upon a woman who had parked her shopping cart diagonally in the aisle. Her screaming toddler’s wailing was going, apparently, unnoticed (by her), as he flailed about in the enormous red basket. Annoyed that she would assume that she is the only person who may have a need for granola bars, I barked out a pointed, but clear, “BEHIND YOU”.
Oh my god.
The look.
We were like an explorer and a native of some lost tribe, discovering the other, and then staring quizzically, perplexed by this mysterious person staring right back.
It was in that moment that I remembered that “on the outside”, people say, “excuse me”. I was not wielding a chef’s knife or a hot roasting pan…I was just tying to get to the ‘Zero’. The problem is this; civilians are not accustomed to being notified by your nearness with an abrupt announcement. They are much more comfortable with such niceties like, “pardon me”, or, “I’m sorry; could I just sneak past you?” all uttered in a very sheepish tenor, with eyes fixated on the floor.
There is generally nothing ‘sheepish’ about me, and nothing sheepish about any other chefs I know. Proud, assertive, hurried, and confident, we have places to go and not very much time to get there. Time wasting, dawdling, and moseying about is not tolerated in a professional kitchen. Wandering is an indicator of uselessness and inferiority. A cook who casually strolls to and fro in your kitchen has about a 3 day expiration date before the pack forces him out.
Likewise, in a kitchen, you would never sprawl out everywhere, with all of your tools, ingredients, and recipes strewn about. Being able to work in a tight, sometimes unreasonably small space is the mark of flexibility, efficiency, and resourcefulness. A chef would never park his or her shopping cart diagonally in the aisle of any store.
Nor would a chef walk around, seemingly unaware of their whereabouts, and the proximity of other people around them, looking genuinely surprised when another person crossed their path; and by ‘path’, I mean, their transverse meandering through a common walkway, pushing a shopping cart and looking everywhere except straight ahead.
So, there we were, staring at each other, almost daring the other to push this just a little further. The woman snapped up her Nutrigrain bars and pushed her cart, as I passed silent judgment on her for buying such inferior, chemically-laced foodstuffs made in some factory by someone wearing a hairnet and lab coat. She muttered something under her breath as she continued her shopping elsewhere in the aisles of the bustling store.
Judgment reciprocated.
Her toddler was still screaming. I could sense that she had moved over to the electronics, based on the dullness of his shrill cries. Maybe she will buy a GPS to show her where she was going, and objects surrounding her. Jeez, do they make those like a pedometer – something she could strap to her shoe? That would be nice… I wondered if he screamed at such a decibel that she was unable to hear, much like dogs have that heightened sense of hearing on the opposite end of the spectrum.
I strolled up to the Zero, shaking my head. I wondered what it was like to be this unaware, this isolated. My god, what a gift that would be… the ability to totally zone out and go through life unfettered by the various incidents and people around you. Total and complete ignorance, aware only of what it right in front of you at any moment. I can’t even conceive of it.
Intensity is a trait I’ve long possessed. As I child I was quite focused. As an adult I persist in my tightly wound ways. Deliberate actions, effort guided by thought, I move through life with a sense of high-strung ambition. There is an annoyingly strong pull about my energy, as well as an annoyingly strong resistance to the flow of those lesser intense people around me.
“See, Stac - your standards are just too high…” or my other favorite, “you think too much”. Two, count them, TWO of my former employers have said those unthinkable words to me. And I thought I was coasting. Shit.
Contemplation. Thought. Effort. Painstaking measures. There is always a reason for absolutely everything that I do. Nothing that I do is arbitrary, nothing is an afterthought. Relentless. Driven. Always chasing something. Nothing is good enough. Ever. Even this column has taken me 3 months to finish, and, it still isn’t right.
To be a chef, you have to be a risk taker. You have to be confident. You have to be bold. You have to be your own unstoppable force. There has to be something that throbs deep inside you, the pulsating creativity and brilliance of making beautiful order out of total chaos.
It might seem a little extreme, and, maybe it is. But I don’t find it to be all that uncommon. The chef as a professional is the embodiment of passion. Some people were wired to be engineers, born with the critical thinking skills that make them successful at solving the riddles of the modern world. Others seem to have been born with the language skills of the great orators of the ages. Sometimes, you just can’t separate yourself from who you really are, even if you’re at Target.
The Next Food Network Star
Brace yourselves – I just got cable. I know, I’m, like, 20 years late, but with the impending switch from analog to digital, I went kicking and screaming from my 13” television, complete with VCR to a 42” plasma with digital cable. Big step. Sloanvision is a thing of the past, an era gone by.
While I had watched cable while visiting the homes of some of my friends & family, I had really seen very little. I’d viewed the Food Network a handful of times, which, turned out to be plenty, but had no first-hand, ‘carnal’ knowledge of it. Until now.
I started with episodes of Good Eats, since Alton Brown seems to know a thing or two about food, unlike many of his wildly celebrated FN colleagues. Once or twice, I bumped into Giada. Not bad, though I recently tasted some of “her” balsamic vinegar and it was horrific. Paula Deen. Rachel Ray & the YUMMO express dinner train. Throwdown was better than I expected, seeing some little lady from Thailand kick Bobby Flay’s ass was worth the 30 minute investment. Emeril is still on here…?
In a fit of total masochistic curiosity, I watched about 9 minutes of The Next Food Network Star. This explained a lot.
Cringe-worthy; that’s for sure. As I watched, I was astounded at the enthusiasm and willingness with which the contestants whored themselves for the panel (comprised of Flay, De Laurentiis, the Senior VP of Production, and some other woman I’d never heard of). It was literally painful to watch. For me, it was as disturbing as watching the clips of pelicans swimming in the black oily mess now known as the Gulf of Mexico. The only difference was, the pelicans didn’t volunteer themselves for their unfortunate and certain demise.
As the panel discussed the performance of each contestant, it became clear that the criteria to become “The Next Food Network Star” was not experience, cooking technique, talent or good taste. It wasn’t about knowledge or professionalism or expertise. “The Next Food Network Star” is supposed to have, quite simply, “star power”. Apparently cooking technique can be faked, but “star power” cannot. After a few minutes of deliberation, I gave up. I had reached my limit.
The other day, I received a call from a woman asking whether or not I was hiring new chef instructors. She also let me know that she had really great class ideas that she wanted to bring to Mirepoix, all featuring things that we were apparently lacking. I inquired as to whether or not she had any teaching experience or had worked as a chef (neither question had an affirmative answer). I was also curious to know whether or not she had been to one of our classes, or knew what we were all about.
Eventually after many qualified statements, long-winded ramblings, and shameless self-adulation, all of her answers to the questions I asked ended with a fatigued “no". Shortly after, she mentioned she had just tried out for The Next Food Network Star.
Conversation over. At least in my mind it was.
On this topic alone, I could turn this column into a book, but let me narrow it all down to a few key points.
I remember when becoming a chef was tantamount to becoming a janitor, just a step up from garbage collector. I remember how my parents pled with me to reconsider my career path. I remember people treating me as if I had some type of mental defect, nodding patronizingly at me when I announced that I would be attending culinary school and not the University of Michigan or Purdue, or Harvard, like some of my high school classmates.
As if it had happened yesterday, I recall how hard culinary school was, how demanding the instructors, how exhausting the schedule. I remember dragging myself out of bed at 4 am in order to make it on time (and if you’re a really good culinary student, you show up early!) to baking, and after, taking a short nap in the student lounge just before my next class. I remember making two mistakes that brought me public shame and humiliation (a topic for another blog entry). I remember being completely humbled by the men who expected better than “doing your best”.
Just recently, a group of wealthy private school parents came to Mirepoix for a private cooking class. As it sometimes happens, some of them treated my staff and me as if we were uneducated, unsophisticated “help”. The next day, I was at brunch with my parents who belong to a local country club. As I entered the dining room, my presence was noted by one of the men who had been at the event the night before.
Incredulous, his face indicated puzzlement; how “someone like me” could be at the prestigious Oakland Hills??? Or, maybe, he thought I was there to collect – since he, a real class act, had ducked out on his bar tab at the end of the night.
My point is that I’m used to people viewing my profession as something that needs to be qualified, justified, or explained. I’m used to being treated as if I am completely uncultured, unsophisticated, and ignorant of the nuances of world around me. I’m used to people assuming that I’m poor, or that I drive some kind of rattletrap car, or that I can’t make my house payment.
I’m used to the assumptions that I’m a drug addict, or alcoholic. I’m familiar with the presumption that I wouldn’t know how to use a computer or read at an eighth-grade level. It doesn’t surprise me when people think my education stopped after culinary school, or when they display abject amazement that I am a published author.
What bothers me about the Food Network is that it has NOTHING really to do with food or with chefs. It pays no respect to the hours of grueling, and sometimes degrading toil of the professional kitchen. You can be an off-the-charts-dumbass who doesn’t know what ‘prime steak’ is, and, you, too, can be on television. Because of the Food Network, I have people who ask me about what I would do with a mystery basket filled with popcorn, hot dogs, wheat grass, and lyche nuts, and they’re serious.
The problem with the Food Network (and “reality” TV in general) is that we, as a society, have agreed to reward morons, idiots and talentless people for doing… nothing. We, as a society, have decided that achievement needn’t be measured, that you don’t have to hold yourself to any type of standard, or that you don’t have to WORK at your craft.
Being a chef isn’t about money or fame or appearances. Being a chef is a centuries-honored tradition. Being a chef is about excellence and commitment. It’s about teaching and learning and sharing and passion. The people who come to Mirepoix come to us because they trust us. They trust that we will treat them with respect, that we will share our knowledge and our passion. The people who come to Mirepoix come here because they know that THEY are our focus, and that we aren’t using them as “test audience” for our impending debut on the next hottest cooking show.
When we first opened, I had a staff of people who were only focused on themselves, their careers, and their illusions of greatness. After 3 long years, I was finally able to cut out the cancer that ate away at our integrity and rebuild.
Amongst my current staff, I am universally known for being demanding and extraordinarily difficult. The pushing never stops. My staff knows that I expect excellence and nothing less. They know we don’t let things slide, we don’t blow things off. They know nothing is an afterthought and no detail is too small. They know our vision, where we’ve been and why we’re never, ever, EVER going there again.
They know that we are chefs and they know, in no uncertain terms, what exactly that entails. Because we are treated like we are less, we will be committed to being more. Because so little is expected of us, we will over-deliver.
The Food Network has been both a blessing and a curse. It’s elevated our industry from a high school drop-out’s only hope to a housewife’s dinner party come true. But with its popularity, it hasn’t brought honor or tradition; that’s the job of the chef and the teacher. My mom used to tell me that “character is who you are when you think no one is watching”. I can’t think of a better standard for a chef.
So, if you’re looking for a great recipe for the pantry surprise, watch an episode of Chopped and you’ll learn the secret to bad cooking – the improper and appalling combination of ingredients that should never be combined. But if you’re looking for inspiration and professionalism, don’t look for them on TV.
While I had watched cable while visiting the homes of some of my friends & family, I had really seen very little. I’d viewed the Food Network a handful of times, which, turned out to be plenty, but had no first-hand, ‘carnal’ knowledge of it. Until now.
I started with episodes of Good Eats, since Alton Brown seems to know a thing or two about food, unlike many of his wildly celebrated FN colleagues. Once or twice, I bumped into Giada. Not bad, though I recently tasted some of “her” balsamic vinegar and it was horrific. Paula Deen. Rachel Ray & the YUMMO express dinner train. Throwdown was better than I expected, seeing some little lady from Thailand kick Bobby Flay’s ass was worth the 30 minute investment. Emeril is still on here…?
In a fit of total masochistic curiosity, I watched about 9 minutes of The Next Food Network Star. This explained a lot.
Cringe-worthy; that’s for sure. As I watched, I was astounded at the enthusiasm and willingness with which the contestants whored themselves for the panel (comprised of Flay, De Laurentiis, the Senior VP of Production, and some other woman I’d never heard of). It was literally painful to watch. For me, it was as disturbing as watching the clips of pelicans swimming in the black oily mess now known as the Gulf of Mexico. The only difference was, the pelicans didn’t volunteer themselves for their unfortunate and certain demise.
As the panel discussed the performance of each contestant, it became clear that the criteria to become “The Next Food Network Star” was not experience, cooking technique, talent or good taste. It wasn’t about knowledge or professionalism or expertise. “The Next Food Network Star” is supposed to have, quite simply, “star power”. Apparently cooking technique can be faked, but “star power” cannot. After a few minutes of deliberation, I gave up. I had reached my limit.
The other day, I received a call from a woman asking whether or not I was hiring new chef instructors. She also let me know that she had really great class ideas that she wanted to bring to Mirepoix, all featuring things that we were apparently lacking. I inquired as to whether or not she had any teaching experience or had worked as a chef (neither question had an affirmative answer). I was also curious to know whether or not she had been to one of our classes, or knew what we were all about.
Eventually after many qualified statements, long-winded ramblings, and shameless self-adulation, all of her answers to the questions I asked ended with a fatigued “no". Shortly after, she mentioned she had just tried out for The Next Food Network Star.
Conversation over. At least in my mind it was.
On this topic alone, I could turn this column into a book, but let me narrow it all down to a few key points.
I remember when becoming a chef was tantamount to becoming a janitor, just a step up from garbage collector. I remember how my parents pled with me to reconsider my career path. I remember people treating me as if I had some type of mental defect, nodding patronizingly at me when I announced that I would be attending culinary school and not the University of Michigan or Purdue, or Harvard, like some of my high school classmates.
As if it had happened yesterday, I recall how hard culinary school was, how demanding the instructors, how exhausting the schedule. I remember dragging myself out of bed at 4 am in order to make it on time (and if you’re a really good culinary student, you show up early!) to baking, and after, taking a short nap in the student lounge just before my next class. I remember making two mistakes that brought me public shame and humiliation (a topic for another blog entry). I remember being completely humbled by the men who expected better than “doing your best”.
Just recently, a group of wealthy private school parents came to Mirepoix for a private cooking class. As it sometimes happens, some of them treated my staff and me as if we were uneducated, unsophisticated “help”. The next day, I was at brunch with my parents who belong to a local country club. As I entered the dining room, my presence was noted by one of the men who had been at the event the night before.
Incredulous, his face indicated puzzlement; how “someone like me” could be at the prestigious Oakland Hills??? Or, maybe, he thought I was there to collect – since he, a real class act, had ducked out on his bar tab at the end of the night.
My point is that I’m used to people viewing my profession as something that needs to be qualified, justified, or explained. I’m used to being treated as if I am completely uncultured, unsophisticated, and ignorant of the nuances of world around me. I’m used to people assuming that I’m poor, or that I drive some kind of rattletrap car, or that I can’t make my house payment.
I’m used to the assumptions that I’m a drug addict, or alcoholic. I’m familiar with the presumption that I wouldn’t know how to use a computer or read at an eighth-grade level. It doesn’t surprise me when people think my education stopped after culinary school, or when they display abject amazement that I am a published author.
What bothers me about the Food Network is that it has NOTHING really to do with food or with chefs. It pays no respect to the hours of grueling, and sometimes degrading toil of the professional kitchen. You can be an off-the-charts-dumbass who doesn’t know what ‘prime steak’ is, and, you, too, can be on television. Because of the Food Network, I have people who ask me about what I would do with a mystery basket filled with popcorn, hot dogs, wheat grass, and lyche nuts, and they’re serious.
The problem with the Food Network (and “reality” TV in general) is that we, as a society, have agreed to reward morons, idiots and talentless people for doing… nothing. We, as a society, have decided that achievement needn’t be measured, that you don’t have to hold yourself to any type of standard, or that you don’t have to WORK at your craft.
Being a chef isn’t about money or fame or appearances. Being a chef is a centuries-honored tradition. Being a chef is about excellence and commitment. It’s about teaching and learning and sharing and passion. The people who come to Mirepoix come to us because they trust us. They trust that we will treat them with respect, that we will share our knowledge and our passion. The people who come to Mirepoix come here because they know that THEY are our focus, and that we aren’t using them as “test audience” for our impending debut on the next hottest cooking show.
When we first opened, I had a staff of people who were only focused on themselves, their careers, and their illusions of greatness. After 3 long years, I was finally able to cut out the cancer that ate away at our integrity and rebuild.
Amongst my current staff, I am universally known for being demanding and extraordinarily difficult. The pushing never stops. My staff knows that I expect excellence and nothing less. They know we don’t let things slide, we don’t blow things off. They know nothing is an afterthought and no detail is too small. They know our vision, where we’ve been and why we’re never, ever, EVER going there again.
They know that we are chefs and they know, in no uncertain terms, what exactly that entails. Because we are treated like we are less, we will be committed to being more. Because so little is expected of us, we will over-deliver.
The Food Network has been both a blessing and a curse. It’s elevated our industry from a high school drop-out’s only hope to a housewife’s dinner party come true. But with its popularity, it hasn’t brought honor or tradition; that’s the job of the chef and the teacher. My mom used to tell me that “character is who you are when you think no one is watching”. I can’t think of a better standard for a chef.
So, if you’re looking for a great recipe for the pantry surprise, watch an episode of Chopped and you’ll learn the secret to bad cooking – the improper and appalling combination of ingredients that should never be combined. But if you’re looking for inspiration and professionalism, don’t look for them on TV.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
