Mother's Day
Today I worked 14 hours. It's the only day of the year that we're open for lunch, and as I stumbled in at 9, it looked pretty insurmountable. Especially when I was informed that the tartar sauce I'd made at 11 pm on Saturday had sat out all night, and I needed to repeat the entire process.
I've worked ten-hour days most Sundays, coming in to bake bread at noon and then working my normal station, and as a server, doubles were a way of life, especially on busy days, and especially especially during the Christmas season. When I spent a week at Scotty's, I'd come in at ten and work lunch and dinner. But of course servers usually get a break, and at 29 South I usually got an hour or so between service. But not today. We had about 250 on the books, an intimidating number to cooks who are used to 100 or so reservations on weekends. Plus, spring has sprung. This means beautiful spring vegetables (the carrots are particularly nice), wild salmon, softshell crab, and for good measure, chef put wood-roasted prime rib and his ridiculously tasty crab cakes (featured, as best I can tell, once a year) on the menu. In short: wildly popular dishes, and lots of people. I for one, was scared.
It all went better than I'd imagine. both services were well-paced, and though all the cooks were worried about double-shift-related fatigue, judicious amounts of caffeine, banh mi sandwiches and five-spice roasted duck kept us going. The most striking image of the day: between services, we were all gathered along the line, munching our sandwiches. We're a small restaurant, with a small kitchen and a small staff, but it seemed very full with all of us in there: Chef, our chef de cuisine, sous chef and pastry chef, all of the cooks, all lined up on about 20 feet of line and prep. Chef took that moment to thank us for putting in a day's hard work, and it was perfectly timed: between the quality of the sandwiches and his obvious gratitude, we weren't ones to complain.
So happy Mother's Day, moms of the world, and thanks for doing a job that I personally can't imagine as fun, although my mom is great about highlighting the really rewarding bits. My parents made a surprise visit themselves about an hour before Honey and his mom had their reservation. Dad liked his shrimp and grits, which is high praise from a man who, once he has his recipe established, rarely approves of any others. And mom ordered the crab cake that I was about to send out to her anyway. And Honey and his mom ordered spectacularly. I couldn't have been happier about having family in the restaurant.
What I've learned:
It takes me 35 minutes to grate onions, chop cornichons and capers, zest two lemons and juice several more in order to make tartar sauce. I'm pretty sure it takes less time at 10:30, when I'm motivated to go home.
I can reheat vegetables for the saute cook without screwing it up. Go fry cook!
Sometimes amateur's nights don't suck. Especially when I'm cooking, not serving.
After 14 hours, even making a fruit plate (a point of pride), will become tiresome.
My theory about small doses of caffeine sustained me. But never insult a server who's not only made you coffee, but warmed the mug, by refusing cream or the mug. Even if both are in easy reach of your station.
If one has given up refined sugar, eating two Kripy Kreme doughnuts isn't advisable. Not even a little.