lol... that was a great peek into the average restaurant kitchen. I often
wonder what our profession would be like, had the table dote menu survived.
Ala carte is just about the only kind of service a restaurant considers any
more.

"Bob (this one)" > wrote in message
...
E F wrote:

>
> I agree with Peter and George. You have so much to learn before
> opening an eating establishment. Good luck to you!
>

A column I wrote a while back...

You don't really want to open a restaurant
There is this notion abroad that, because you can cook a good dinner
at home for some friends, you can operate a restaurant. Let me say
this clearly. Unmistakably. With no room for misinterpretation. You're
crazy to even entertain the notion.
Seems a bit harsh, wouldn't you say? I mean, we're reasonably bright
people and we should be able to deal with something as simple as a
restaurant. It isn't rocket science, exactly. How difficult can it be?
This from George Orwell in his novel, “Down and Out in Paris and London:”
"... would be the fearful noise and disorder during rush hours. It is
something so different from the steady work in a shop or a factory
that it looks at first sight like mere bad management. But it is
really quite unavoidable ... by its nature it comes in rushes and
cannot be economized. You cannot, for instance, grill a steak two
hours before it is wanted; you have to wait till the last moment, by
which time a mass of other work has accumulated, and then do it all
together, in frantic haste. The result is that at meal times everyone
is doing two men's work, which is impossible without noise and
quarreling. Indeed, the quarrels are a necessary part of the process,
for the pace would never be kept up if everyone did not accuse
everyone else of idling. It was for this reason that during the rush
hour the whole staff cursed like demons."
Got it? Restaurants are no place for civilized people to work in.
Let's paint a small picture here. It's based on the past few weeks in
a kitchen where I'm the chef and a couple decades that qualified me to
be doing it. (Chef, in classic terminology means he's the guy who runs
the kitchen - the head cook, final culinary authority, and the person
who manages the operation. Nowadays, it too often means someone who
only cooks and, while that's certainly an honorable profession I've
spent a good portion of my life doing, it isn't the full meaning.) .
In the kitchen, every kitchen, a kind of system develops based on the
needs of the kind of business it is. People come to restaurants and
clubs to dine. That assumes they want their food soon. Along with
everyone else who just walked through the door. The servers cruise
serenely through the dining room (the good ones) and attend to the
diners while the kitchen staff takes raw and partially-cooked foods to
the final state for delivery to customers.
Step with me through the swinging doors to the kitchen. The first
thing you notice is the noise. Kitchens are loud because of the
velocity everyone moves at. Pans bang against stovetops, spoons
against pot walls. Dish machines hiss and splash and steam up
eyeglasses. Empty sauté pans thrown into the metal bucket for the
dishwasher to come pick up. Whisks beating a kind of musical time to
the soprano notes from the deep fryer and the kerchunk as the ice
machine drops another hundred cubes. There's a rhythm to it all and
it's a fast, hard, loud one. Cooks and prep people barking orders to
each other.
Then the wall of heat hits you. Kitchens are very hot. In the middle
of a meal service time, it can get over 100F back there. You stand
facing a deep fryer with 50 pounds of fat at 365 degrees Fahrenheit.
Next to that is the charbroiler and the surface grates can get up near
800F. The flattop grill is cooler, just 350F. The burners on the stove
- 8 of them - for sauté pans to finish the vegetables and entrees. Odd
double boilers with hot sauces and broths, steam softly hissing out of
the bottom pan. The overhead range hood roars as it tries to suck hot
air away from the cook line faster than it can be heated.
There's little small talk. People are telling each other what needs
to be done and they offer status reports. It doesn't sound polite.
Everyone speaks loudly because of the background noise and they
usually sound angry because they're almost shouting. If you don't have
a well-developed sense of urgency, the whole process looks like
anarchy. In fact, it's more like a raucous ballet on a wet, slippery
floor.
Tickets are coming in faster than they can call them. As each
arrives, the cook calls out to the others what's on the ticket so they
can do their parts. What kind of salad. Which appetizer - “app” in the
trade. Soup? Entree? Accompaniments? Special requests or needs? Got
it. Next ticket.
The language is abrupt and without the social lubricants. No pleases
and thank yous in the heat of battle. You won't hear, “Bob, may I
please have two New York strips medium rare, a baby filet medium well
and three ribeyes medium. I also need two snapper specials and would
appreciate the four pasta carbonaras as soon as you can get to them.
Thank you.”
“Certainly, Gary. And the grilled portobello mushrooms are nearing
completion and should be done in less than five minutes.”
What you hear is this machine gun shout, “ two newyorks midrare...
baby filet midwell... three ribs mid... two snappers... four
carbonaras.” Forty-three words compressed to thirteen. And so it
goes. “Gary; ports in 5.” Nineteen words to 4. And it shows no sign of
letting up since there are a bunch of checks hanging up to be done.
But in the meantime, a server just rang in three tables within two
minutes. Since he couldn't take the orders that fast, it's obvious
he's been holding them and is counting on the kitchen to cooperate in
getting the earlier tickets done so they could ship them first. He's
screaming for aps on a ticket with a time stamp barely two minutes old.
It's too, too easy to get caught up in the frenzy of the moment. The
biggest trick is to know when to sprint and when to stop to regroup.
Taking that small second's pit stop to make sure everything is
covered. Doing it all on the fly, the passion carrying the process.
Shouts and seeming rudeness the hallmark of the moment. And when it's
past, to revert to the normal discourse respectful of the others that
made the process a team exercise. The smiles that say “We did it again
and we did it well.”
Anyone who belongs in the kitchen will learn those lessons. Everyone
else needs to content themselves with enjoying the results of the
process.
So, this restaurant you want to open...

Pastorio