Bar Story #2

It's hot. It's hot and narrow and slippery. You get messy. The trash can is filled with remnants of uneaten meals, and you find yourself judging faceless, nameless people by the amount and type of waste they send back. (The pork chop comes with kale and succotash. Apparently, you just wanted the pork chop. This is why you are fat. You're probably fat. Or at least have a high chance of heart disease in the future.)

I've concluded that this may be the least glamorous thing one can do in a kitchen. But also an important part of the organization, the flow, that keeps the whole system moving. You can't cook unless you've got enough pans, right? Dishwasher.

A full house, 40 person reso (that's reservation, for you non-restaurant folk), and a sick dishwasher meant I spent my evening last night in the smallest kitchen in the world, working alongside my husband and his sous chef. Doing dishes.

I'm lazy, and spoiled with a job that means I pretty much do what I am doing right now all day (sitting on my ass, typing things), so I kind of like stepping out of my normality every once and awhile. And I enjoy watching the dance in a more intimate way, and hope I don't screw it all up.

The dance is this:

The tickets come in. The sound that haunts cooks in their dreams, that old school printer sound, one after another after another. Orders are read, loudly, and the tickets put on the rail. Everyone moves. I move out of the way.

"Behind!"

"Open Oven!"

"Hot Pan!"

"On Your Left!"

"Four, All Day!"

"Dropping Fries!"

You need to be aware in a kitchen, any kitchen. You need to know what everyone is doing, at all times. A good team knows each others' nuances, their movements and strides, what they will do and how they will do it. A good team can effortlessly dodge each other and any obstacles in the way.

A good team learns their kitchen. Each has it's own quirks and eccentricities:

-The health inspector says we have to have the drain just so, but it's a crappy drain and if you change the sani-water (Sanitizer sink, takes care of any yucky germs), and don't remember to check the drain, you'll be mopping up gallons of spilled liquid in the middle of dinner service, and everyone will hate you.

-This kitchen is so tight on space that everything needs to be exactly where it is, at all times. Don't mess up the organization because it works better for you. It's not about you.

A good team also has a mix of Pandora or Spotify stations constantly blaring that are in turns annoying, loud, hilarious or a combination of the three.

After the 1st rush and I burn my hand on a hot pan because I'm an idiot (and spend the rest of my evening alternately washing dishes and plunging my scalded flesh into a bucket of ice water so I can then ignore the pain when I stick my hand back into super hot and soapy water to finish my job), three shots of delicious house-infused liquor appear, which we all take two seconds to toast and chug before the printer starts up again.

I am gross and disgusting at the end of the evening, but all the Front of House girls say I am the cutest dishwasher that's ever worked there and they like me the most.


So, there's that.