In
Scott Hass' book Back of the House: The Secret Life of a Restaurant he
recounts his time spent with Chef Tony Maws and his crew at Craigie on Main,
delving into the dynamic intermingling of personalities that inevitably arises
within the unique environment of a restaurant. Hass focuses upon specific
character traits that allow for Chef Maws to manage the disparate personalities
within his employ, but inevitably the author relates the narrative of a
familial institution with the Chef established in a patriarchal role. The book
becomes a story of many personal struggles, with each individual attempting to
survive and flourish within the unique environment of the restaurant, while
reconciling their own desire to enter into the world of professional cookery
with the realities of that decision.

Within
my own inherited family, we recently embarked upon the companies annual retreat
to our owner's farm just north of the Catskills. The retreat is a great sigh of
relief following the hardships of an erratic Summer, and a deep breath before
the plunge into a decidedly busy holiday season. Pig, whiskey and wood smoke
abound in this communal moment defined by a spirit of conviviality. But it is
also an intersection of identities, with this display of the individual self in
the context of one's restaurant family. We revert to our defined roles, with
cooks cleaning the kitchen, building the fires, and preparing the food, while
the FOH busies themselves with preparing the dining space, handing out beers,
and ensuring that each attendee is enjoying themselves to the fullest. It is a
conscious acceptance of duties, confirming the strength of the architecture to
which we have submitted in pursuit of a goal that is greater than any of our
individual aspirations; however, it becomes something else considering the
presence of the individual self of the employee within the context of the
restaurant family. Plaid and boots have replaced our whites and clogs, but our
roles remain fixed while in the presence of our unrestricted personalities.
Upon
our return to a more familiar setting we bring with us a heightened awareness
of our compatriots, a more nuanced discernment for the personalities that
comprise the restaurant family. Waking to find a handwritten accounting of the
past night's events tucked within the tents and sleeping bags of those
encircling a dying fire, while witnessing the spectacle of a crew emerging from
an impromptu, drunken cheese bombardment will often promote such an
appreciation for character. With this, those defining facets of our identities
are masked to a lesser extent by the uniformity of our attire, the costume of
our craft, while our appreciation for the opportunity that our roles present is
similarly more evident. This retreat not only provides perspective, but
seemingly effects the balance of our selves. Great kitchens are often comprised
of an assemblage of well greased and assembled cogs, but for the sake of those
employed within these machines we must find cohesion between our association
with a restaurant and our individual self. A great employer will never require
the submission of our identities for the sake of the product, as food without
the encroachment of personality will never please the customer so much as the
chill residing upon a sterile plate that is above technical reproach. Bearing a
heightened awareness of this collision, I seek to embrace my identity within
the context of my commitment to a restaurant and those within its employ, in an
attempt to balance the personal and professional self and my dedication to
these families, both real and imagined. Line Cook For Life.
Ian
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