#006/// Behind the Kitchen Doors

A book has recently been published that challenges my way of life. On the surface, one would think that it champions the cause and cries for restaurant staff nationwide to rise up and unify under the banner of fair wages, non-hostile workplaces and health insurance. However, it calls for changing the basic tenant of what a true restaurant lifer clings to.
Chaos.
In Behind The Kitchen Door Saru Jayaraman hits some of the most obvious problems facing the restaurant business and breaks her book up by issue by issue: defining sustainable food, paid sick leave, the federal tipped wage, racism and sexism in restaurants, and ways to implement changes.
Sustainable food is the concept of well cared for product without the use of pesticides and employing fair trade practices.  Jayaraman would also like to add the welfare of the restaurant folk who deal with this well cared for product. A worthy goal and concept, one I can get behind. I wonder what she would think of the broken bones I've suffered at the hands of my mentor from one too many raps on the knuckles over missteps in the kitchen or that the idea of calling in on a Friday night is absurd to me, regardless of how sick I may be. That state of mind is proof I am product of a system that is flawed. We all get sick and none of us deserve to be punished for it. I have worked my fingers to the bone in various states of wellness for free to gain knowledge and experience, but that was my choice. Since those days, I feel I have been vastly underpaid every second I've been on the clock, but isn't that human nature? Every second is a second closer to death, in that Sylvia Plath sense, and therefor priceless. We all deserve a million dollars an hour, full benefits, sick days, paid vacation, 401K and toilets made of solid gold.
I just don't think its in the cards.
The independent restaurateurs who employ the most passionate among us aren't exactly flush,  for the most part. Why would anyone want something from their employer that might break the business? If you don't love what you do for a living you are a sucker and I'm sorry you're stuck with that choice you made. I ended up doing something that I love and I'm willing to trade that happiness for a few dollars an hour or benefits that my employer cannot afford. What is worse: the employer who takes advantage of their employees or the employee who takes advantage of their employer? One simply needs to look towards the automotive industry or the state of the education system to answer that question. I have worked for my fair share of assholes in my day. There is a reason restaurateurs are demonized by most of their staffs, but isn't that true of any boss, for the most part? Are restaurateurs more exploitative than the CEOs of banks? I think not.
The discussion of the federal tipped wage is a no-brainer. I mean, really, $2.13 an hour?!? No one can live off of that wage and the fact that people agree to it is absurd. I learned there are some states, that under the right financial circumstances, don't actually have to pay employees anything and the employee lives entirely off of tips! Restaurant workers make the lowest average salary of all industries and include 7 of 11 of the lowest paying jobs nationwide. That's disgusting. The loopholes discussed regarding tips, tip sharing and claiming tips are theft, flat out, and very much exist on a wide-scale level. So much so that I believed them to be legal industry standards carried out by some kind hearted folk I know and love. Needless to say, I am letting them know about this book the moment I stop writing this essay. The truth is that anyone making less than minimum wage is doing it in under the table work, otherwise the IRS can and will catch up to the employer. Working untaxed is a decision made to avoid many possible things - child support is the reason I've seen the most in my career, yet Behind The Kitchen Door never mentions that. Once anyone agrees to exploiting the rules every decision made afterwards is going to be exploitative.
Simple as that.
I love the views of sustainable kitchens as well as product. Some of the things I read will forever change who I am as a chef. I am proud that despite the figure that 6.1% of dishwashers nationwide are  caucasian that I, personally, have had more sous chefs of color than dishwashers. I am proud that my kitchen's average salary is almost five dollars an hour over the national average. I am proud we are a teaching kitchen and that as long as you show progress we advance from within - and if there is no room to move up (simply due to the guy prior to you not wanting to go anywhere) I actively place those  talented enough past what my kitchen can offer in other restaurants regionally I feel would be a good fit or accredited universities to continue a more formal education than I can provide in my tiny, well-loved kitchen. I love my cooks and servers. I am personally connected to their happiness. However, if they fuck up - and we all fuck up from time to time - how am I to let them know without yelling? I agree that workplaces should be friendly and safe places, free of hostility and fear - but if you fuck up hundreds of dollars worth of product is it better to be fired or simply dressed down? Kitchens are a bastardization of the military and we always build you back up after breaking you down. We don't fire, at least not in my kitchen. You get fired in your first few months for sheer incompetence, after that you don't get fired unless you steal. I believe whole heartily that the independent kitchens nationwide are built on that same principle and would agree with me. Yelling is an old tradition of kitchens since the beginning of restaurants. I am not one to stand on tradition for tradition's sake, but we are talking about kitchens here, not board rooms. Decisions are made on the fly. Mistakes mean grease fires and lost fingers. When you have five saute pans each with twenty dollars worth of proteins all searing away, not one but two timers chiming to remind you about the other hundred bucks worth in the convection oven that are overcooking, another three hundred dollars worth of shit on your grill, along with three tickets from tables you've yet to call out and start, how else are you supposed to react when the guy next to you - who you love and respect as a brother, who has been working for you for years and years, whose kids you babysit on the weekend - grinds everything to a halt by not starting the fucking risotto ten minutes ago and simply says, "Oh, shoot." FUCKING WHAT THE FUCK? YOU'RE BETTER THAN THAT, GOD DAMNED IT?!? I say things three times, first is nice, second not so nice and third I'm a dick. Being nice doesn't help anyone in any industry when there is a job to do and people are fucking up.  I see the point, though, that verbal abuse should not be something one is proud to call a cornerstone of their industry, but what is verbal abuse? I feel its natural to fear the reaction of your boss, in any line of work, when you waste his time and money. Isn't that a type of respect, actually?
The best excerpt from this book was the very first paragraph of the foreword written by Eric Schlossler of Fast Food Nation fame. He starts the entire book with, "A powerful movement has begun in the United States, challenging industrial agriculture, questioning the American diet, and calling for fundamental changes in how we grow, process, and think about our food. Organic production has soared, and the need for 'sustainability' has become so widely accepted that even companies like McDonald's and Coca-Cola now pay lip service to that worthy goal. The mistreatment of livestock at factory farms has gained enormous attention as consumers express revulsion at the cruelties routinely inflicted to obtain cheap meat. Free range poultry, cage-free hens, grass-fed cattle, hogs allowed to wander outdoors and wallow in the mud have all been championed as crucial elements of a healthier, more human food system. But the food movement thus far has shown a much greater interest in assuring animal welfare than in protecting human rights. You would think that, at the very least, the people who feed us deserve as much attention and compassion as what we're being fed."
Fascinating, powerful shit.
I love love love that.
That paragraph makes me want to raise the flag for my peoples and protest out front of every national chain I know who have some dicey practices. I want to go on a hunger strike until my comrades all have health insurance and a living wage. Very rarely, though, are things that simple.

And whats with the cover? I get it. The statistics are hard to overlook: Only 20% of restaurant jobs pay a livable wage and those jobs are primarily given to caucasian males. But c'mon now: Here's whitey, leering over his staff who have to wear hair nets that are oversized to demean the unpaid worker of color. Meanwhile  he has no head wear what so ever despite serve safe standards. I know, I know. Being a white male myself I am used to this. I am not supposed to be able to complain about this either I guess. However, I am a college dropout product of abuse and divorce. Being a suburban white kid does not make this trade easier for me. This trade is defined by one thing: work. If you can produce more faster then you have the job. Again, racism, sexism, and ageism exist in all of us to some degree and maybe the restaurant industry at large is worse than other industries regarding integration of both race and sex. I just feel that this cover is a little over the top.
We all want to live in a fairyland of happiness. The basic injustices of humanity have existed since the beginning of time. I would like to think that with each generation these behaviors are becoming less prevalent  but only marginally so. Slow changes. These problems will almost never disappear, though, and as much as I wish they would, racism, sexism, physical and verbal abuse, starvation, poverty, war, famine, plague, pestilence and the music of Nickleback will continue to exist. What we can do is small decisions everyday to make our area of influence marginally better.
Christ, this started as a book report.
So to bring it back to the book, Behind the Kitchen Door is a must read that provides no real, practical answers for any of these questions. What it does is rephrases already existing problems in our nation through the filter of restaurants. We can take that information and use it to slowly make some changes in the spheres of influence we have. It is well written, full of must-know statistics and stories that are inspiring and enlightening. It will forever change me as an employer and worker. It brought to light both good and bad decisions along my career and has redefined my idea of sustainability in relation to food. The paragraphs prior to this one may make it sound otherwise, but I feel my job is to focus on the bullshit we feed ourselves regarding this industry.



Linecooks, go read something. Many of the cooks I know - who are hodgepodge of mismatched geniuses, eclectics, artisans, musicians, artists, comedians, human calculators and walking encyclopedias on any topic ranging from the factory specs of the entire Ford line from '57-'62 to the argument of nature and nurture based psychology -  claim not to, "be readers." Start with this book.

Pawl Kane
Chef & Bookworm



One last thought: Who gives a shit about what Danny Glover has got to say about the restaurant business? Why is his blurb on the cover and not someone who might be in the biz? Fucking actors.

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So LCFL is growing nicely and in the next few weeks we will see more articles from Ian, Kleb and Nick who we all know. Also, Matt will make an appearance and a mystery, an enigma, an anonymous piece! The Bitter Salesman, purveyor of foodstuffs, will drop his first ransom note to the industry and give us an insiders perspective into what it takes to get food into our walk-ins and thus onto your plates.

Jake just hit us with a bunch of new photos from a Friday service that are up on the Linecook For Life Facebook page - go and like us right meow!

Finally, the Linecook For Life Podcast is in the can! We are setting everything up online and seem to be on schedule for a July 1st release. After that it should be an every two week release. we will be up on iTunes, so go subscribe and download then.

Apprentice Anonymous #02: Tunnel Vision

  It goes without saying that those of us that thrive in the kitchen habitat have a few screws loose. More often than not everyone on the line, and the dishdog - especially the dishdog - suffer from some breed of social or psychological malfunction. I say malfunction because you can't catch them from the neighborhood tramp behind the nearest Dollar Tree. Whether it be mild to chronic depression (not the glorified television version - Zoloft is a sugar pill for attention whores), bi-polar disorder, or in some extreme cases mild schizophrenia, almost every line cook I've met leads their lives dealing with these ailments. I say especially the dishdog because we all know the first person to go postal and blow the joint up by adding Lime-Away to the Chloraid is that quiet little bastard.
  Why is this so often the case? Are we like this as a product of our workplace? Or is this our workplace as a product of our lives outside of it? While I have no doubt that the kitchen is the cause of some people's insanity, I find more often than not that people like us end up here because of life's experiences leading up to our employment in the kitchen. I did enough whining about that in my last article, and I don't need to tell y'all what happened to you either. This is about one of the many reasons we come to work everyday and strain ourselves to the point of exhaustion both mentally and physically. This, this is about therapy.
  Any self-respecting person in this business suffering from the aforementioned conditions has far too much pride to take numbing pills or lay on an oddly-shapen couch crying to a stranger about our bullshit. We keep all the pain and stress and self-loathing inside (most of the time anyway, we do tend to be the heavy drinking sort after all). But nobody can live that way without an outlet. As much as I'd like to say drinking is a good outlet for stress, I must admit it's an absolutely terrible one. Numbing the senses is not the same as working out the frustration through sweat and blood and tears.
  For the past 12 years or so I found that my outlet was rollerblading. But after so many years of wear-and-tear on my body, a number of serious injuries, and a whole shitload of permanently implanted surgical steel, I can't do that anymore at the level I used to. After I destroyed my ankle, depression absolutely ruled my life for over a year until I fell into this cooking gig. I found a new outlet; one just as self-destructive and self-gratifying as what I had previously used to cope with my issues. I found "Tunnel Vision."

  The thing that's drawn me into blading, for over half my life now, is Tunnel Vision. When you're so focused on every miniscule movement your body is making during any particular trick, you completely forget about everything outside of that individual moment that you were worried about before. That's Tunnel Vision. That's Friday night service when the thirty-five open covers you just had all came through the printer at once. Everything you'd been staring at your feet about on the way to work  - your bike just got stolen, your mother's sick, the girl you like just ain't that into you, and/or the liquor store wasn't open yet and you won't be out in time to get to it - none of it is as bad coming out as it was going in. It's that "I just laced the shit out of that very difficult, very physically hazardous situation (read 'trick'), fuck all that other bullshit, I rule" feeling.
  It needs to be self-destructive before it can become self-gratifying. Sometimes you just have to get lost in what you're doing, to the point that you're running more on instinct than conscious decisions and you just go, go, go. When you're focused on making the twenty-five top pre-fix menu identical while your fellow garde-mangier or sous is handling the other ten to fifteen a la minute customers by him - or her - self, painstakingly aware that this isn't a turn-'em-and-burn-'em establishment. This isn't Chili's. We must take pride in presentation under any amount of pressure. And when you come out of the tunnel on top and the servers are reporting smiling faces, all the other shit on the outside that's got you down is long gone. You've been redeemed by your own hard work and the support of those around you that understand the way your mind works.
  Reassurance about life's problems from a "normal" friend and from a friend who lives in the same mindset is a very different thing. It just means more somehow when coming from people that know the way you really think, deep inside, without ever really being able to express it properly in words. We hold each other up in this business. 
  I can come into the kitchen feeling as grim and morose as ever, overthinking the outside world and taking it all too hard like our type so often do, and I can keep being miserable if I want. I just burry my face in my prep, cutting vegetables, or, more recently as apprentice, braising short ribs and pork shanks, and I don't have to put on a happy face for nobody. That's why we're in the kitchen not the FOH. There's a reason we don't work retail or office jobs, we're not content "faking it til' we make it." We're a "no-bullshit" breed of people, and I think that's something to be proud of. (Certainly no offense to FOH, more power to you for being able to put a smile on everyday to make that paper).
  Likewise, everyone suffering from their own brand of psychosis in the back of the house never tends to be on the same cycle. So when you're down, somebody else is up, and you can't help but snicker under your breath and through your commitment to your own depression at the antics and comedy of your fellow line cooks. By the end of service they've got you laughing, relieved, and generally optimistic even.
  On my days off I often find I'd rather be in the kitchen, at home with my new family. Even on slow days - and there is a certain zen to be found in just doing prep all day, or cleaning grease traps, rather than much plating - I've found I always come out feeling much more relaxed and optimistic about the outside world. I wonder if a Bhudda ever cleaned a grease trap.
  So please, embrace the Tunnel Vision, it is the single greatest therapy available to our kind of miscreants. And guess what, you're getting paid to go to it.

I hope this makes sense in the morning,
Kleb Tuckkett

p.s. Upon further slightly more sober review, and some confusion about the title the first time around, this column will henceforth be known simply as "Apprentice Anonymous." I'll still be drunk every time I write though. Cheers you heathens.

#005///A Cook's Patois: An Incomplete Glossary

#005///A Cook's Patois: An Incomplete Glossary

Sometimes I attempt to stand back, to be apart from the rest of the kitchen and try to experience it from the perspective of some regular person lucky enough to have some job not involving grease traps and gratuity, who has just been dropped into our little world unexpectedly. An out of clogs experience I like to call it. In these moments, I am often surprised by the everyday minutia of our trade. For example, on any given day any of the following phrases come out of my mouth, sometimes ad naseum:
"Is seven's third on fire? Put it up on the flip once you give that plate a rim-job."
-or-
"I'm throwing the birds in to flash for the deuce then I'm going to go bail out the pit, he's totally wooded."
-or-
"I need a runner and a follow, food is dying in the window! Stab your dupes, ladies! I need you to walk on sunshine!"
The patois of any craft is interesting. The chit language and shorthand spoken among cooks is a peek into the transient nature of the line cook as well as the variety of the people who have worked together over the years. One could follow a cook's career path in a strange sociological study just backtracking the terminology he leaves in his wake. I first heard the term "Kaboyah" in 1997 in Buffalo, N.Y. and have since helped spread the philosophy of Kaboyah throughout the country until in 2009 I saw it in print from a cook-turned-food-critic based in Austin, TX. As far as I know, a catering sous chef named George from the west side of Buffalo invented that shit.
For the sake of posterity, I have started a list of food service jargon so the lay folk can cross reference this with any shop talk they may come across to help better understand the service class.

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Top - Shorthand referring to number of people in a party ("We have a nine-top seating.")

Open Count - Referring to open menus in the dining room, meaning the number of guests perusing menus in the restaurant currently whose orders will be coming into the kitchen soon.

Heads - Guests in the restaurant; Could be used regarding individual tables ("There are four heads at table seven.") or  at large ("We have forty heads milling about the bar.")

Covers - Same as heads, guest count, but for some reason only used in the past tense ("We did a hundred covers tonight.")

Resibooks - Shorthand for 'reservation books.' These pages, be they digital or physical paper, are the closest thing we in service have to a crystal ball. Considerate diners want to have the best evening possible so they call ahead to the restaurant, regardless of the evening or the time they wish to dine, and let their hosts know they will be coming so they can be expected and therefore entertained well.

On the Fly - As fast as humanly possible.

On the Flip - Same as on the fly, but faster.

Fire - Firing is the term used when the guest is ready for the next course of their meal ('Fire course three, table 14.')

Straight Fire - a term signifying that a table is not getting appetizers and that their entrees are to be cooked immediately  when coursing out tables, the hope is that there will be one or two courses before the entrees, which take longest to prepare. That way the guest can get food without any seeming wait, as salads and appetizers generally are items that are quick preparations. When a table comes in and wants a well done strip steak 'straight fire' that table will be tapping it's proverbial toe while they wait for that sumbitch to get done.

Coats - Chefs; Cooks generally wear chef coats, simple enough.

Shirts - Servers; Servers don't wear coats designed in eighteenth century France.

FOH - Abbreviation for 'Front Of the House'; waitstaff or the dining room they work in; generally one of the two divisions of labor in restaurants; those who work for the maitre d' or dining room manager.

BOH - Back of the House; cooks or the kitchen they work in; generally one of the two divisions of labor in restaurants; those who work for the chef or kitchen manager.

In The Weeds, Weeded - A cook has more to do than he can manage

In the Woods, Wooded, Woodered - A cook who has more to do than he can manage and is shutting down due to over-whatever, thus making matters worse.

Slider Course - When one guy at a table decides to order an additional course than the other guests at his table. This results in an oddly timed course and it is generally agreed that this guy is going to get about three minutes to enjoy his additional course before the next course goes out.

Dishpit - The area of the kitchen where the dishwasher and, hopefully, the dish machine are located.

Dishdogs, Pit Rats - Terms of endearment for the dishwasher.

The Line - The part of the kitchen where service is executed; named for the gas line running to all of the equipment and also because most kitchens are long narrow affairs the cooks stand in a line.

Walk In - A room sized cooler that cooks walk into to get the items needed for prep or service, or just to have a moment to themselves to cool off.

The Stoop - Where cooks take their breaks, whether it is a break room in the basement, a loading dock or just the area near the dumpster its called the stoop.

Stoopin' It - Going to have a cigarette on the stoop.

Uppie - The term used when an order is 'up' or ready to be taken to the appropriate table, as in, "Table three - Uppie!"

The Floor - The dining room.

Flash - A quick reheat after something has been prepared right before it gets plated.

The Tiles - A term for the kitchen; Kitchens are traditionally floored with cheap terracotta tile in order to promote cracked flooring, broken glassware and injuries as a result of slipping.

Non-slips - The preferred tread of any kitchen footwear; Work shoes. Traditionally cooks wear clogs with slip resistant soles.

Slinging Kegs - The unfortunate act of putting away a beer delivery. Dreaded by most linecooks and dishwashers.

Dupes - Short for 'duplicate tickets;' When an order is rung into the kitchen they print on duplicate, sometimes triplicate tickets, in white, pink and yellow so multiple cooks/stations can work the same ticket

Tickets/Checks/Dupes - The physical paper the order the customer placed is written on.

FIFO - First In First Out; Shorthand reminder to use the oldest product first and to rotate product when putting away inventory.

Rim-Job - After plating a dish, a linecook wipes the plate to ensure that all crumbs, drips, herbs, leaves, juices or any other items that are supposed to be in very specific places are removed from the other places meant to be bare ceramic. This is how cooks achieve that magazine quality look the food presentation, a final wipe and polish of the plate and it's rim. Yet another example of the inappropriate double-entandres that litter cook-speak.

Follow - A second person who assists in bringing items to a table.

Heard - The LCFL approved way of answering any request; multiple meanings, primarily "Yes, I did in fact hear you and I will get to your request at the first available moment."

Behind You - A term for letting those around you with hot pans, sharp knives, etc. know that you yourself are behind them and unarmed; also "On your right/left," "Left/Right side," "Reaching."

Coming Hot - Similar to behind, but this time allowing those around you know that this time you are armed; also "Knife," "Pan," "Gun," "Look Out."

Cornering - A term used to let people who may be around a corner or doorway know you are coming in that direction and to be on the lookout just in case one of you are armed with a knife or hot pan.

Hot Open - Another term used as a warning, this time against burning those around you when you open a hot oven door. 

Canadian - Term for any customers who don't tip. It is widely accepted that Canadians don't tip as a culture except in extreme cases of excellent service.

Gave me a stiffy - Not getting tipped at a table. From the common phrase, 'Get stiffed,' and spun into inappropriateness by sophomoric restaurant folk.

Corkage - The fee charged when customers bring their own wine, a practice beloved in restaurants but often not free - we have wine. Not gonna buy any? Fine. Wanna open your own in our establishment? Sure, but we need to see something for the glasses, time, wine we don't sell you.

Cutting Fee - Similar to corkage, but regarding any food you may bring into the establishment, most often cake or dessert. Cutting is usually a fraction of the average dessert cost.

The Cage - Where all liquor is kept from the sticky hands of staff, usually an actual cage. The best I ever saw was a four-by-six cage for some kind of smaller mammalia, maybe a ferret or a marmot, converted into a liquor cage for the high end liquor.

Key - Restaurant terminology for what laymen refer to a corkscrew.

Tony Time - When linecooks decide its time to acquire a buzz, whatever that buzz may be, be it on the clock or not. This practice is completely unacceptable however completely existent. Tony was a legendary heroine addict yet functional linecook in New York State at a reputable prime steakhouse. This is what his coworkers called the moments he would disappear, whether it would be ten minutes during a rush or two weeks during a binge. The term has evolved in going out drinking after work as a crew as well.

Swanyay - A complete bastardization by American cooks trying to use the French for 'swan like' and loosely translated to 'better-than-fucking-perfect.' The actual term its going after is 'soigner' which means 'to look after.' Every linecook will tell you that every table gets the same thing and that nobody is special because he already gives his best. Bullshit. Where it may be close to true, one turns it up a notch when your future in-laws are in. Generally used as a way for the chef to express quickly he will be extra picky about that table and what they get ("Gentlemen, I want that table swanyay - seat one at it has a black card. We want him back in here, heard?")

Rush, Push, Turn - A term used for a busy period during a service. The three terms are almost interchangeable, but strange rules regarding tense and quantities are adhered as to which is used in very specific moments. A rush is general and could be a quick 10 minute pop in business and could be over as quickly as it began. Rushes also are about to happen most of the time, ("You guys are about to get a rush..."). A rush is usually, at least to an extent, unexpected, whereas a push is predictable. The reservation books are a key insight into this, but history plays a huge part of it, too. You work at a diner? The push is Sunday mornings, ten to two. Work a deli counter? You're gonna be balls deep in pickup orders at one Monday through Thursday. Turns are very specific moments where the dining room fill up seemingly at once and it seems every diner has the same timing. They eventually leave together, clearing space for the next turn. A turn is a push that starts and drastically. Usually due to another event being in town, a concert or show requiring twenty thousand people in an area to show up at one specific time, those twenty thousand descend upon the surrounding restaurants serving them at once.

Turn & Burn v. Wine & Dine - Theories of service, chiefly the competing concepts of "Do we seat them fast, serve them fast, and turn over their table multiple times in an evening and make money that way?" or "Do we seat them and wow them with an experience in the hopes that they stay and spend, spend, spend?" The two ideas have about the same success rate on a national level. It just depends what kind of experience you want to give the guest. Everything, though, begins with this question when designing a restaurant. Which are you going to be? Menu, employees, even operating hours are determined by which of these philosophies you adhere to.

Add On - Anything a customer may order after they have placed their order. That side of mashed potatoes you forgot to tell your server about until the food arrives? Thats an add on.

Busboy Buffet - Any half eaten yet seemingly untouched food that comes back from a table. If you've only finished half your ribeye & decided not to box it up some busboy is going to stare long and hard at it trying to determine whether to chance hepatitis or not based on how 'touched' the food appears and the customer's physical appearance. Rule of thumb: If you'd go down on the customer you can eat their leftovers.

Eighty-Six - An item that is out of stock for whatever reason. The stories involving the etymology of this phrase are multiple and far reaching. Though no one really knows where it began it has come to mean the end of anything within restaurants. If we are out of calamari, the Fried Calamari appetizer is eighty-sixed. If a company fucks an order up for the third time they are eighty-sixed and we will take our business elsewhere. If the waitress broke up with her boyfriend she eighty-sixed his broke ass.

Shelf to Sheet - A term for representing the order of an inventory guide with the physical order of the shelves and the inventory organization by which those shelves are kept.

Reggae - Shorthand for 'regular,' as in the way an item is one the menu; usually used on an item that has special request often ("I need two Caesar salads, one SOS and one reggae.")

Rubes - An affectionate term for the customers.

Mods - Any modification that must be made for a guest from what is printed on the menu. Need a different dressing? Are you gluten free? No food touching and on separate plates? Those are mods.

SOS, DOS - The most popular mod; Short for 'Sauce On Side' and 'Dressing On Side,' respectively. On a side note, if you get your salad DOS, most people end up putting more dressing on their salad that way. Oddly, most Sauce On Siders want the sauce separate to limit the amount of high-calorie sauce used on their meals, but the cups and boats used for the sauce ends up giving the customer more that the few spoonfuls used in the standard plating. Its counter-intuitive.

Shoe Leather - This is the term when a guest orders a nice piece of meat well done. Well done is a nightmare for cooks because it throws off the timing of the meal as well done steaks take forever to cook. I have seen some shit done in an effort to get a steak to be well done quickly, from pounding tit into submission to create a thin cutlet to just chucking it into the deep fryer. If you care about your meat you should want it juicy and pink, in most cases at least.

Kaboyah - The state of mind a cook must attain to accomplish the execution of a flawless and seemingly effortless service. It's a feeling of preparedness mixed with experience that forges an experienced linecook into a tool, a weapon, a cuisine machine made to make the masses smile. When kaboyah is achieved there is nothing that with shake the linecook in question and he will lift those around into new heights of culinary execution. You know the feeling Popeye seemed to get after downing some spinach? Yeah, that. The usage, however, is an exclamation, more often than not braggadocio or victory cry ("I'm fucking ready to roll, Chef. Kaboyah!")

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The language spoken within our craft percolates down through the rest of our lives. We cannot exist in the world at large without these phrases and most of us wish the rest of the populace would join in these practices - especially saying 'Behind You' in any circumstance where you are, in fact, walking behind somebody in closeish proximity. In fact, I often get called out by those in the know when I do it inadvertently at the market or a bar. Its a tell, so to speak. Though I am certain that there are several key phrases and terms I have forgotten to mention I feel that this is a good list to begin with. We here at LCFL are interested to hear more suggestions for this glossary. Please send all suggestions to linecookforlife@gmail.com and I will post them immediately. As usual, check us out on Facebook at Line Cook For Life and 'Like' us if you do. This will allow us to keep you better updated on the happenings of our growing community.
Keep bangin'.

James Pawl Kane
Chef & Keeper of the Secret Language of the Line

The House That Escoffier Built: The Network of Accountability

     As established by Auguste Escoffier (1846-1935), the kitchen functions as a brigade with a very specific delineation of responsibilities that serve to create an efficient environment. As a member of the brigade, one must trust in his or her compatriots to complete the assigned tasks of the day for the kitchen to run as intended. We are held accountable to one another, to the chef, to the owner and to the diner most of all. But as anyone who has ever worked in restaurants will attest, mistakes will be made and the responsibilities of a line cook often fall victim to the challenges of the restaurant itself. It is the response to these mishaps that is perhaps the most telling sign of a seasoned line cook, as there is rarely a day where restaurants do not experience problems of execution. A novice cook will attempt to ignore the problem and pray it goes undiscovered, or react as if the absent minded under prepping of a garnish will surely destroy the very foundations of the restaurant, bringing the walls crashing in around him and his lack of croutons. A seasoned veteran of the line will quickly inform the necessary parties and rectify the problem calmly, with precision and speed. These problems will arise, cooks must address them, and you may lose some sleep over the past, present and potential issues that will inevitably develop at inopportune moments over the course of a normal day on the line. 

     Working to subvert the inevitable, the line cook plans his or her day through a series of rehearsed actions with the goal of completing a very specific list of quantifiable tasks. That is, the line cook is responsible for his or her prep list, as this piece of paper contains all the answers we seek in order to achieve the ideal service. To ignore this list is to damn yourself and your compatriots to a night filled with a la minute prep work and curses both shouted and whispered. You will emerge from a grotesquely long service as a shell of your former self, questioning your skills, your chosen profession and your (G)god(s). The prep list is the means by which a cook attends to his or her responsibilities, filling their role within the network of accountability. 

     

     The concept of accountability must be a lesson acquired through lived experience, as nothing has the same permanence as one's memory of failure. I write this piece thinking only of a moment where I committed a sin against these tenants and consciously neglected to write a prep list. A hastily made decision informed by a lack of experience and wealth of concern for the busy day ahead of me. There was much shouting, ticket times were unacceptable, and the handle of a small saute pan was forcibly removed through several beatings on an already damaged red tile floor. I was confident I had lost my job. Though my errors were not so grievous as to warrant termination, it was impressed upon me that such transgressions simply cannot occur or else the brigade fails. Prep lists are our way to ensure we address our responsibilities and maintain the integrity of system. 

     Having moved to a larger kitchen that possesses the novelty of designated prep cooks, I now feel the necessity of this network more than ever before. We cannot hope to achieve the task of line cookery alone, but must work in tandem with others towards a single goal. When our faith and reliance in others is punished due to the shirked responsibilities and oversights of those around us, we must remain vigilant to the system in place. Only time will prove which of us can adapt and prove themselves to be accountable, and those who simply have no place within the brigade. At a time when cooks are being heralded as great individual creators, there has never been a more pressing need to remind ourselves that we must still function as a team. Through this network of accountability, the kitchen has the potential to thrive and achieve greatness as one while embracing the vision of the brigade leader himself, Auguste Escoffier. 

   

Ian Auger

#004///Fellas, could you turn it down?

Line Cook for Life #004

The doors open at five and it's twenty-to. You're actually looking solid. Prep is mostly done, just have to wait for the braise to come out in fifteen minutes, then pack it up and process the sauce - ten minute gig at most. Mise en place? Fresh to def, son. You look down at garde mangier and he's not flipping out, chopping romaine at the perfect quick-but-not-hurrying pace. A glance at the pit tells you that's not buried and his absence means he's probably sorting the bottles in the basement - a sign in itself that he must have been bored for a half-second. You're kitchen is set up for bear and feelin' it.
Kabuyah! You're in to win.
Right at that moment the radio plays THAT song...

This exists everywhere, I understand, we're no different. The same thing happens though: Everyone gets a bounce to their step - that is if they are also prepared, otherwise they become more irritated. A chef or manager can use this almost as a barometer as to who is and who is not ready. When a good crew is together they don't need to ask for help, its understood. They don't have to talk. Body language is sufficient. A kitchen works in an almost animalistic way, depending a lot on interpersonal relationships - almost as much as knowledge and skill. As with all tribal cultures, kitchens need a level of trust and interdependance.
Once you add a song, it becomes rhythmic.
It becomes a dance.
Its odd how one moves through a kitchen. Tight quarters involve a lot of hip swinging to avoid one another or corners of countertops, avoiding the cracked tile with a stutter step. Opening a cooler, grabbing product from the bottom shelf and closing the cooler door in one elevator-like spin is a slick move and is practiced by any linecook trying to impress a waitress.
It is a dance... within it's own rights.
Ive found that there is a direct relationship to the size of the kitchen and the prevelance of music. Big kitchens equal less music. Something to add to the divisiveness of the crew and can be easily avoided. The largest kitchen I ever worked in we had thirty-some cooks in the kitchen - eight on garmo alone. This kitchen had an oddball intercom system so the music was piped in during prep at an extremely low volume, just enough to hear it, not enough to distract. Mostly instrumental stuff to the liking of the chef, jazz and samba. That shit was was turned off at twenty to five. There were at least ten different nationalities on line every night. We were not trained to converse. Our services were in a near silence, yet we all still had the same rhythms installed by our chef in our heads. We moved to the same beat all night - gracefully due to the design of the kitchen. For six hours a night we would be perfect soldiers. The second the last table went out the radio came back on. The selection of music went to the closing sous who would crank it the second Chef hung up his coat and went home. For the first time since punching in personalities appear. People called each other their names instead of "chef" or - even worse - your station name (grill, sauce, expo, etc.) The music brought back the humanity to a room full of what had just been tools for the chef: human spatulas and tongs. Breakdown involved laughter, arguments. Life.
Small kitchens allowed more music to be played since there were fewer coworkers to piss off. Here a radio is played all day, everyday. In these kitchens music is essential. It becomes a rallying cry. Anthemic. The thing that unifies the crew instead of divides. I've seen some small kitchens. Once a bar with a "galley kitchen" where the wall was so close to the stoves the oven doors almost could open all the way. I worked in a Hawaiian fushion joint with a massive Samoan chef in a kitchen that was about ten by twelve. Postage stamp. Tight quarters. In another kitchen, when interviewing with the chef he would inquire as to your waist-size, not for uniform pants as he claimed but rather to determine whether you could fit around his butcher block. The basement kitchen where you were or were not hired based on height. In these places a radio becomes the thing that fills the silences, preventing the awkward need for conversation when there are only two to four people in a room together for six hours plus - when the same people are bumping into each other all day a song can relieve tension.

...and when THAT song comes on, chatter in the kitchen goes down, everyone is tying up the loose ends that need tightening, double-checking. You're doing the exact same thing. Bottles of oil are being topped off, boiling pots of salty-like-the-sea water are being lowered to simmers, grill-tops are being brushed-and-oiled-and-wiped, the dishpit is getting dry-mopped. Then the hook of the song comes in and the bartender cutting lemons picks up a little head nod. Someone turns it up a little. Servers carrying glassware out to the front do almost-pirouettes around each other in their efforts, in near perfect time with the song, balancing handfuls of stemware delicately as they turn. Oven doors close on the down beat. The pounding of the chicken cutlets is following the snare. Everyone has a little crooked smile. Someone starts to sing along, now a small chorus. Grill and saute are alternating lines. The dishwasher comes upstairs into this scene and starts laughing and clinking recyclables in time. The new barback, who used to be a drummer - but now does meth - picks up his cue, grabs some soup spoons and starts doing paradiddles on countertops and stacks of plates. The feeling of confidence and camaraderie is experienced by everyone and we all are prepared for anything...
That's when it all comes back to reality.
Someone in the front of the house - regardless of restaurant, place or time - pokes their head through the door.
"Fellas, could you turn it down? We have customers..."
Dammit.
Let's get back to work...

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At Line Cook for Life we strive to understand all angles of linecookery. Everyone has different paths. Send us pictures of your beat-up, flour covered radios. Send us recommendations of good kitchen music and prep playlists at linecookforlife@gmail.com .
A buddy of mine who was a part of a catering group that travelled a bunch claims to have a ten year or so running survey of the most widely accepted album in kitchens. I checked in with him recently and after cooking with cooks in seven countries and thirty-eight states evidence shows that Cyprus Hills' "Black Sunday" is currently at the top, closely followed by Led Zepplin "II." Though he was not taking official notes for these statistics, I inquired what the most hated and most divisive musicians were. Nickleback and Dave Matthews, respectively. He said The Arcade Fire were the most upwardly moving group. add your voice to the vote. Whose the group your crew digs the most? Whose banned from your kitchen? Banned from mine: Radiohead.
Surprise!
Personally I'm the guy who listens to the Deftones when I'm crazy busy, LTJ Bukem when prepping, and Kanye during breakdown. If you haven't heard about Nujabes then google that shit like now. 

As usual, I ask you check us out on facebook. Podcast coming June first if the planets align.

Until then keep bangin'.

James Pawl Kane

Head Chef and Huge Gorillaz Fan