Kitchen Work

After a half-necessary and half-desired vacation from sweating through the nights as a line cook, I wasn’t sure I’d ever go back to that sort of work.

It’s more an endurance test than a sprint, and I’m more of a sprinter. Even so, it’s one of the most realistic, accessible jobs I’ve found that also completely matches my interests. Even before I could cook, I thought of it as a sort of way to produce edible art – and while learning to do it has mellowed my opinion somewhat, I still believe cooking is one of the most interesting and engaging past-times (and necessities) in the world.

Since working in the back of a restaurant always appealed to me growing up, I figured I’d give it a try at a local comfort food pub around four and a half years ago. I’d managed to figure out decent knife skills and understanding of different flavors and spices with Google and experimentation (though I’d wanted to go to culinary school for quite some time). I got the job at the non-scratch kitchen, meaning most of the food was pre-prepared – which is certainly more demoralizing to cook and plate, but is by no means bad for a certainty.

That restaurant closed rather soon after I got there, though it gave me enough of a glimpse of kitchen work that I was interested without being deterred. I’d go through a trial by fire of sorts in the next couple of jobs I found at a steakhouse and then an extremely-competent hole-in-the-wall pub. They, unlike my cushiony first job, were scratch-kitchens. So for the first time in my pursuit of kitchen work, I was peeling and mashing potatoes, slowly drizzling oil into clunky blenders for a certain butter sauce, cleaning a line and preparing it, working for six- to eight-hour shifts, cleaning and wrapping up the line, only to repeat it all again through the next two days.

It taught me a lot about cooking – most of which I would’ve never learned without it. It also wouldn’t have been possible without the head chef giving me a chance, quite frankly. My credentials were lacking, but I might’ve had a certain passion that gave me an edge. I’d like to believe that, over the restaurants simply being a tad desperate for workers in time for their customers’ arrival. Either way, though, my employment at the places that I stressed over so endlessly on my days off was nothing short of a lucky break, even though it didn’t feel it at the time. There’s something nice to be said for reliable days off, though.

I‘m happy to report I feel very consciously aware of my luck in the job I’ve recently started. I’m confident in my footing in a kitchen environment, and have rightfully been criticized in some aspects while seemingly handling others just fine. For once I’m not constantly questioning myself or seeking help on tasks that most competent cooks could probably handle alone. If I’m assigned a task that’s a little daunting, I’m comfortable asking just enough to figure it out myself. In the same vein, if it’s an area I know I’m simply not proficient in (see dough-making), I’ll not kid myself – I need a lot of guidance. Luckily, the cooks at my new workplace aren’t afraid to give guidance when I need it.

I feel very fortunate to have found a workplace which makes me comfortable. Preparing food is a process I find extremely tiring but more so satisfying. This felt like the thing to write about at this moment – but writing about writing should probably be my go-to in the future.