What Gets Me

What Gets Me

Okay, okay so what gets me? Well, I can live with the cuts, the burns, the long hours, bad customers that change my menus, poor service from distributors, staff that have trouble with etiquette, all the cleaning and when a recipe goes wrong.

I should explain each more thoroughly. 

Being cut on the job is never a good thing, not just because it hurts but because it happens at your own hand. To this end and why it doesn’t “get” me is that very fact. If you cut yourself, it is your fault! Insert laugh here. Luckily, I am good with a knife and rarely (1 every 3 years) cut myself! But, it’s part of the gig when you wield a knife for 8 hours a day.

Pans spit when working a good sear on a protein, that’s it! Many times the proteins have a pocket of water or moisture within them and the heat forces it out; when it hits the cooking substance it rockets out … usually towards you! Just part of the gig!

If you want to succeed, create the new, improve the past, you must work hard at your craft.  That’s a fact I feel sometimes is not practiced anymore. You must practice that craft with great vigor. Me, I usually cater to high proteins, caffeine and or music stimulants! Alas, it’s part of the gig!

Bad customers, ah where to begin? If you are late for your reservation without notification, you are a bad customers. If you change the menu without bound or understanding of the complexities of acids in relation to proteins in each dish, you are a bad customer. Sauce on the side is just plain foolish.  But again, it’s part of the gig! People always think they know everything they like.

 

I think you are getting the point now so I will conclude.  These things listed are parts of conversations with fellow in the biz, and what makes them want to stop producing great food.  But, they are not “What Gets Me” . for me it’s simple, it’s the odor of cooked food on my clothes at the end of the night. Sounds stupid probably but when I am done for the night and want to enjoy a cocktail, tall pint or lovely glass of wine; I don’t want to smell the Halibut Buerre Blanc!